by steve higgs
‘Vampires do not drink tea.’ he stated snippily.
‘How about a Bloody Mary?’ Big Ben called down from the next floor. Clearly Big Ben was enjoying himself.
‘Jim.’
‘Demedicus’ he snapped again.
‘Okay. Demedicus.’ I relented. ‘My name is Tempest Michaels, my colleague upstairs with your Grandmother is Ben Winter. I am going to invite him down now.’ I made it a statement rather than a question - no need to invite his opinion.
‘Ben, come on down. Demedicus is willing to let us test him to prove that he is a vampire.’ Again, it was a statement - it is happening.
‘What do these tests involve?’ Demedicus asked, eyeing the stake in my belt once again. His eyes were bugging out a bit and he was starting to sweat. To my mind the sweat had already proved that was not a vampire, but I proceeded to explain the tests anyway.
‘Nothing that will harm you in any way, Demedicus. Your Grandmother wants me to prove to her whether you are a vampire or not because she is concerned about you. As everyone knows vampires are part of the undead and therefore have no heartbeat, their body temperature is far below the human normal range and they have no breath or reflection.’ My years of studying Buffy, Charmed and True Blood were clearly put to good use. ‘My tests will merely confirm your status as positive or negative.’
His eyes were bugging out even further now and he was beginning to look quite unsettled. The prospect of having one’s ridiculous illusion exposed I assumed.
‘I’m not happy about this.’ he was half muttering to himself.
Behind me I could hear Big Ben coming down the stairs, but he clearly had someone else with him from the pattern of footfalls. I turned to see Big Ben arrive in the basement accompanied by Mrs Cambridge. Mrs Cambridge had a bible clutched to her breast and a crucifix in her left hand.
‘I cannot allow you to do these tests.’ stated Demedicus in what was a fairly authoritarian tone. ‘I am vampire and will not be subjected to ridicule by lesser mortals.’ he was still sat in the coffin, but appeared to have finally found some gumption.
‘You do as you are told, foul hell Beast.’ spat Mrs Cambridge.
Caught between Demedicus and Mrs Cambridge I found myself moving my head like I was watching tennis. ‘I thought Mrs Cambridge had gone to her neighbour, Ben.’ I pointed out with a degree of exasperation.
Mrs Cambridge then clearly decided that progress was not being made fast enough and despite her advancing years grabbed the stake sticking out of Big Ben’s belt and launched herself across the room at her Grandson.
Big Ben and I both lunged at her catching a shoulder each. She twisted and kicked, wailing that the hell spawn had to be destroyed.
Where do these people come from?
Big Ben and I had to hold on for dear life despite each of us weighing twice as much as her. Demedicus meanwhile had pulled a mobile phone from somewhere and had already connected to someone.
‘Obsidian? Obsidian, you have to help me. There are people in my crypt trying to kill me.’ he was yelling into the phone. I assumed that Obsidian was another vampire-wannabe. Do vampires have friends? I could remember Buffy and Faith taking out nests of vampires so I suppose they cohabit or something. ‘It’s my grandmother and friggin’ Van Helsing man. Get over here.’ A pause while whoever was on the other end spoke. ‘Don’t give me the daylight bollocks, man. Get over here. Get everyone and help me out before they put a stake through my chest.’ His voice a desperate squeak.
Big Ben and I had finally subdued Mrs Cambridge and had settled her onto a chair next to the stairs without popping her hip completely. ‘You must kill the beast while the sun shines.’ she ranted ‘They are weakest then. If you will not do it then I will, just hold him for me.’ She was full on bonkers at this point, eyes fixed firmly on her Grandson.
This was getting way out of hand. I needed to calm her down, grab the blood-stained clothes and leave before it got any crazier.
Big Ben was the next to move though. ‘Vampires burn in sunlight, right? So, let’s prove dipshit here is not a vampire and then maybe we can move on.’ With that he crossed the room, flipped the handle on the small window to the outside world and flung it open. The window had been painted black on the inside, but now natural sunlight flooded into the room.
‘AArrrrgghh!’ screamed Demedicus ‘Arrrrggh! I’m burning.’ He was sort of dancing around a bit flapping at his face, but then he grabbed at the velvet sheet under the coffin, gripped it in both hands and yanked it out from under the coffin which flipped over and crashed onto the floor sending up a fog of dust. He then threw the sheet over his head. I guess this was to keep the sun off, not that I was buying into the charade.
Mrs Cambridge jumped back up. Actually jumped! ‘See! I told you he was a vampire. Kill him now!’ She came at Demedicus again. Big Ben and I both moved to intercept her, which left Demedicus with a direct path up the stairs and out of the room. And that’s exactly where he went.
Still screaming and cursing he ran, flailing the velvet behind him like a cape. It was wrapped around his head though and I guess it affected his ability to see because there was an almighty thump as he ran into something upstairs.
Now what? Neither my time in the Army nor private investigation training had prepared me for situations such as this. It was all getting quite ridiculous.
‘I’ll go see to vampire boy, you take care of Mrs Cambridge.’ I yelled at Big Ben as I headed for the stairs. ‘Mrs Cambridge?’ I called to get her attention. ‘Mrs Cambridge, I want no more crazy vampire talk and attempts to kill your grandson.’ I thought it necessary to put this point across in unambiguous terms before she went ahead and stabbed him with something.
‘Jim is no more vampire than I, which should be perfectly obvious to anyone. You must calm down so that Ben and I can ask him a few questions.’ I headed up the stairs to the living room where I could hear Jim / Demedicus groaning and moving about.
Sure enough, Jim was on the floor in the living room. He appeared to have run head first into one of the oak joists supporting the upper story of the house. There was a cut to his head and blood leaking out of his hairline and down across his forehead. The oak joist would have been an odd feature in a modern house but seemed perfectly at home in the middle of the room in this quaint little cottage. My guess was that Jim had forgotten its location in his haste.
I knelt down and gently removed the velvet sheet from his semi-inert form. His skin, now exposed to daylight, was not crisping or bursting into flame, which seemed conclusive enough proof to me of his mortality.
‘Let’s get you up and into a chair, shall we?’
Please let me get this over with and get out of here with no further madness.
Jim was conscious, perhaps a little dazed, but he accepted my hand and let me help him up and into one of the chintz covered arm chairs. As he was settling back into the chair Big Ben appeared at the top of the stairs leading up from the basement.
‘Mrs Cambridge promises to behave now. Wow, what did you do to him?’ Big Ben asked as he took sight of the blood now dripping down Jim’s face.
‘I didn’t do anything. The thump we heard was Jim running blindly into the oak joist over there.’ I replied, motioning with my head. I had slipped on a pair of latex gloves, I always keep some in my pocket, and was checking the wound on Jim’s head. It was convincing enough. The skin over the scalp is thin and has a great supply of blood, so even a small cut will bleed profusely. This was not a small cut.
Mrs Cambridge promised to behave if I let her come back upstairs.’ Big Ben repeated his previous sentence. ‘She looks a little exhausted from all the excitement actually, I doubt she will give us any more bother.’
‘I sure hope so.’
‘First-aid kit?’ Big Ben asked.
‘There is one in the car.’ I advised.
‘Mrs Cambridge?’
‘Yes, Dear?’ She had taken a seat by her small dining table and although she was stil
l eyeing Jim suspiciously she appeared to have calmed down and did indeed look quite exhausted.
‘Mrs Cambridge, my associate is going to pop out to my car to fetch a first-aid kit. Jim has a nasty cut to his head and may need treatment at A&E. First though I need to do what I can to stem the bleeding. Can I expect any more trouble from you? You will observe I hope, that Jim is now in daylight and has not burst into flame and the presence of blood should further go to convince you that he is not a vampire since vampires have no heart beat and therefore do not bleed.’ I had stepped slightly to the side so that she could see Jim bleeding and not burning.
‘Yes, Dear. Sorry about before. I’m not sure what came over me. Are you alright, Jim?
‘Demedicus.’ he slurred quietly, still not quite ready to let his fantasy go.
Big Ben had been bent over next to me examining the inch long cut to Jim head. He stood up now though and moved to the door to get the first aid kit.
My back was to the door, but I sensed it opening as more light flooded into the room. Big Ben gasped quite audibly, a kind of “Hurrrrr” noise of inrushing breath followed by the sound of the door being slammed shut.
‘Tempest, we have a problem.’ he squealed. I looked up to see him bracing the door with his body, back to the door feet planted firmly on the wooden floor. ‘There is, like fifty fuckers dressed as vampires outside, man.’ His eyes were showing way too much white for my liking.
Before I could get off my knees and ask him any further questions faces started appearing at the windows. The little faces peering through the windows each wore too much eye make-up, one had a bleached flat top hair-cut, another wore his hair in back spikes, yet another was a girl with black lips and a dozen facial piercings. I scanned around the room, it had four windows positioned on two different sides. At each window, I could see more faces appearing so that now they were several deep in places. They were cupping their hands to the side of their faces like people do when they are looking into somewhere dark and need to shut out as much peripheral light as possible.
‘They’ve got Demedicus!’ I heard one of them say. ‘He’s friggin’ bleeding man!’
Oh bollocks!
The call to Obsidian that Jim made downstairs. I had totally forgotten the call for help.
Big Ben had bolted the door and was looking out the small window above it now. ‘There’s more arriving, Tempest. A whole bunch of them just got out of a van. This is really not cool. I cannot be murdered by a bunch of vampire-wannabe losers. I’m supposed to die underneath a pile of dirty slappers while celebrating my ninetieth birthday. I promised myself I would.’ Still able to think with his dick, Big Ben was looking genuinely nervous which in turn was beginning to affect my efforts to stay calm.
This was not the first time I had been in an uncomfortable situation I reminded myself. Not the first time I had been trapped in a building with hostiles outside for that matter. Panicking gets you nowhere. The only thing you can do is breath and focus. I did a mental checklist: Have we secured the premises? And that was as far as my mental checklist got because I heard the back-door open.
Big Ben and I reacted together, or rather we failed to react together. For a heartbeat, we just stood looking at each other, but then the spell was broken as vampire-wannabes began to stream in through the door leading from the kitchen through to the rest of the house.
Leading the bunch was a hefty, hairy man with black hair and a beard, wearing a full-length, black, leather coat he could have stolen from Morpheus in the matrix. He had kept with convention and was wearing a ton of black eye liner, probably mascara and a plethora of silver rings and chains. Obsidian perhaps? Let’s call him vampire-wannabe number one for now.
Vampire-wannabe number one was running. It took nanoseconds from the time he rounded the door to the time he was into the room and moving towards me. He was a lot bigger than me and had a face that meant business.
My adrenalin spiked instantly and since flight was not an option I adjusted my stance for fighting. I had fought big guys before, although I don’t make a habit of it and try to avoid fighting altogether if I can, but when they rush you it is fairly easy to convert their momentum and throw them. This was my intention, but I never got the chance because Mrs Cambridge punched him in the nuts.
Just like that.
She didn’t even get out of her chair, she just flung out a fist at his crotch as he came past her.
He folded up mid-run and crashed to the wooden floor more or less at my feet. Behind him a small sea of advancing vampire-wannabes screeched to a confused halt. In front of them Mrs Cambridge got to a wobbly, standing position from where she had been sat in muted silence during the few seconds that all this had been playing out.
‘Now just you stop all this.’ she commanded, her voice that of a grandmother admonishing some unruly children. ‘I have had quite enough nonsense for one day already.’
In the doorway that came from the back of house into the living room were rows of vampire-wannabes. Those at the front looked like they wanted to be elsewhere and were being shoved forward by those behind that could not see. From somewhere in the crowd came a voice that still felt they had a purpose here ‘We came to rescue Demedicus from those vampire hunters.’ he said aiming for forthrightness and not quite making it.
The faces I could see had all been focused on Mrs Cambridge, but as if remembering why they were invading someone else’s property they now looked across at me as one. What they saw was Big Ben and I still poised for fighting, wearing Kevlar and combat boots while behind and to our side were their fellow vampire-wannabes still pressing their faces to the window and probably trampling Mrs Cambridge’s geraniums. Just to the side of me was Demedicus still covered in blood and looking dazed.
Not good.
Crowds are stupid. It was something I had learned long ago in Bosnia, but back then a short warning burst from my armoured vehicle mounted chain gun would get their attention and split them up pretty quick. I did not have that option here.
‘Ben?’ I enquired.
‘Yeah?’ he answered.
‘Just checking.’ Time to try talking my way out of this. I dropped my ready-to-fight stance, straightened myself and attempted to combine a look of relaxed and non-threatening with absolute authority. ‘Assembled vampires,’ might as well play along with them and try not to piss them off ‘my name is Tempest Michaels and I am investigating the recent spate of murders associated with vampirism. It was reported that this man’ I pointed to Demedicus ‘may be able to assist with my enquiries. His injuries are self-inflicted and not of our doing. We intend him no harm, but now that he is injured my priority is to tend to him before continuing any line of questioning. I ask you to go about your business, but to elect one member of your party to remain here to aid Demedicus and to report back to the collective.’ I didn’t actually want any of them staying here, but this was my best shot at calming the situation and getting them dispersed.
The sea of faces were all fixed on me and no one was saying anything.
‘It’s a hive.’ came a voice from somewhere near the kitchen door.
‘What?’ I found myself forced to ask.
‘A group of vampires. It’s not a collective, it’s a hive.’ The voice advised.
‘No its not, you plonker.’ Came another voice. ‘It’s a nest.’
‘What? Whoever heard of a nest of vampires.’ from the first voice again. In the gloomy room, I could not make out which of them were speaking, but the heads were turning away from me and towards each other as the subject came under greater scrutiny.
‘In Buffy the Vampire Slayer, episode seven of series four, Faith tells Buffy that she has found a nest and they proceed to clean it out. It’s a nest.’ returned the first voice, who I could now pinpoint as a scrawny ginger vampire-wannabe with glasses and what looked like a Count from Sesame Street doll sticking out of a coat pocket.
‘Joss Whedon’s ridiculous view of vampires as aggrandising master villains wit
h plans for world domination were an insult to us all. How can you respect yourself in this company if you look to him for reference?’ The new voice was from a large woman, well probably woman, but kind of hard to tell really. She/he had purple lips and eyes, crazy black and purple hair and stood a foot taller than most of the other vampires around her/him. ‘All the greats say it is a hive of vampires and I shall give a lecture on this subject at next week’s meeting.’
The discussion was quickly turning to a fight between the vampires and I wanted to leave. It was not that I was scared necessarily, although I recognised the potential danger in my current situation, it was more that the only fight you really win is the one you do not have. The Army teach you a lot of things when you join up and there is an inevitable change to your personal characteristics, but it took me a while to realise some of the changes the experience had made to my personality. How can I explain this adequately? If you cast your mind back to school, there was probably one kid in your class whose first reaction to any situation was to just thump someone. Generally, people have a natural resistance to harming other people, they need to be wound up or motivated to actually break social boundaries and hit someone. The Army removes that natural resistance, so that like a sociopath the need to factor in the other person’s emotions and concerns is not present. At some point many years ago I realised the truth of this and recognised that I was quite able to switch from well-mannered and polite to aggressively deadly with little thought involved. Nevertheless, I would rather avoid thumping anyone today.
I looked down at Demedicus, who just shrugged up at me. He was still sat in the chair holding a rag to his head. He still looked deathly pale and was still leaking blood. I was not going to get any answers here.
‘Mrs Cambridge, I think it best if we take Jim to hospital. The cut to his head is quite deep and will need stitches. Would you like to come with us?’ I wanted to get the hell out of there before any more trouble started and I wanted to isolate Jim as the ever more unlikely murderer.
