by P. N. Elrod
He sensed I was planning something. The angle of the gun shifted downward. “Move and I’ll blow your balls off.”
Vampire or not, that kind of threat will stop any man in his tracks.
“Hands away from the face.”
There wasn’t any choice, I’d have to play it out and see what would happen. I straightened, lowered my hands, and looked him in the eye.
He still didn’t know me right away, but then the last time he could consciously recall seeing me I’d been belly-up on a sidewalk, fully clothed and apparently dead. Now I was shirtless, disheveled, standing, and apparently alive. Small wonder the dawn came slowly.
The lids peeled back from his eyes. I kept very still, staring at him, hoping he was as unnerved as I had been. He took a backward step toward the door and kept on going until he was on the threshold.
“Run,” I whispered.
The idea must have already been in his mind. He flinched, turned, and retreated heavily down the hall.
Bobbi heard it; she was out of bed and peering past me, a few dozen questions on her face. I quickly grabbed up my discarded clothes.
“What did—”
“I can’t explain now.” I kissed her good-bye and darted out after Gordy. He was thumping down the backstairs. I pulled on the shirt without buttoning it and shrugged into the coat, not an easy thing to do while running, but I was able to keep up with him. He reached the bottom, looking indecisive, and turned for a backward glance. I ducked, dematerialized, and followed down after him.
Uncertain of his route, I hung close to his coattails and was able to stick right along with him. He went through a door into an assault of noise, and I guessed we were in the casino. Here he stopped and caught his breath. Maybe he only wanted people around him. At a more sedate pace he moved through the room and passed into a smaller and much quieter area, probably the cloak room.
“Hi, big boy, what’s up?” a girl asked him.
He didn’t answer, but pushed past her to an even smaller room where the coats were hung. I heard a click and sensed he was working at something with his hands. A little unsteadily, he began repeating a call sign. He was using some kind of short-wave radio and trying to contact the Elvira. I moved in close to hear both sides of the conversation. Unfortunately he began shivering, but it couldn’t be helped.
They had a poor connection, and I hardly made out Morelli’s voice.
“Yeah, Gordy, did you find out—”
“Boss, he was here, I saw him, I saw the kid.”
“You saw him?”
“In your room—he was real, he was alive—”
“Shut up and get out here, I’ll have the boat waiting.”
“He’s still up there with Bobbi—”
“What?”
“I caught them together, but I had to get out. Jesus, you shoulda seen his eyes.”
“You left her?”
“I couldn’t help it, I had to.”
“Then get your ass back up there and get her out, you hear me? You get her out and bring her to me. . . .”
At this point I left, groping through the back door of the cloakroom and solidifying. The long, dim hall dividing the casino from the club stretched ahead. It gave backstage access to the bandstand and led to the farther of the stairwells. I raced to the far end and had to dissolve again because of two men sitting and smoking on the steps. I re-formed in the upstairs hall, hurtled into Morelli’s room, and locked the door. Bobbi had just finished pulling on some clothes.
“Gordy just called Slick about us; he’s supposed to take you to the yacht.”
“So?”
“So I don’t think he’s going to throw you a party.”
“Don’t worry, I know how to handle it. I was more afraid that Gordy was going to shoot you just now.”
“Never mind that, I’ve got to get you out of here.”
“This place is packed with his boys. Tell me how you plan to get past them.”
“I want you out of here.”
“I know, but I’m staying put. I can handle Slick and I won’t split on you.”
“Bobbi—”
“If Gordy’s coming up you have to leave. Slick won’t hurt me, but he’ll kill you for sure. I don’t care what sort of deal you have going.”
Before I could lose my patience, Gordy was banging on the door. He wasn’t alone this time.
“Slick’s closet—get inside!” She shoved me in the right direction, I felt like I’d wandered onto the stage of a French farce.
“Bobbi, I’m opening the door now,” Gordy called.
“Keep your shirt on!” She opened it first.
For form’s sake I got in the closet just long enough to vanish and was out again, keeping close to Gordy.
“Yeah? What is it now?” she demanded. She didn’t sound at all like a woman who’d been caught doing something she shouldn’t.
“Slick wants to see you. You’re going for a boat ride.”
She didn’t ask why. While she threw on a light jacket, they searched the rooms, then hauled her downstairs to a waiting car. Invisibly, I went with them. She might have known how to handle Slick, but I didn’t have her confidence in him. All too well I remembered the guy he’d beaten to a bloody pulp with his own gun.
When we got to the docks, I had a real check to face, the free-running water of the lake. Any and all instincts I had or had recently acquired were sending out emergency alarms, and it took a lot of effort to ignore them. I clung to Gordy like a lamprey as we got into the rowboat. I didn’t care how cold it made him.
There were two men to handle the oars, but my presence aboard made it hard work for them, and they were panting from the effort by the time we drew alongside the Elvira. Bobbi was handed aboard, then Gordy followed struggling up the ladder as I hung on. I thought he was going to fall in, but he was very strong and someone lent him an obliging hand and pulled hard. We both lurched onto the deck. The craft was big enough to give me some stability, but my back hairs—if I had any in this form—were still up. The whole yacht, big as it was, had given a shudder as I came aboard.
“Wind must be kicking up,” someone remarked.
“I felt that, but there’s no wind, that was current.”
“Are they here yet?” I heard Morelli’s irritated call from a short distance. Gordy moved toward the source, herding Bobbi ahead of him. We went below.
From the size of it, we were in the main cabin. I found an unoccupied corner and settled in to listen. Things were quiet at first, I could imagine Morelli giving Bobbi a good looking over trying to read her mind.
“Who was he?”
“You know already, Slick, so why play games?”
“You tell me his name.”
“It was Fleming, the guy you sent me after the other night.”
There was a long silence.
“Well, what’s the matter? Didn’t you want me to do it? He said you sent him.”
“Shut up!” There was another long pause, his voice calmer and colder when he spoke again. “Did you screw him?”
“No.” She sounded disappointed and disgusted. “Gordy interrupted things.”
“Then get out of here. Go to my cabin.” There was movement and the door opened and shut.
Morelli sounded tired. “Gordy, tell me what you saw.”
Gordy was less excited than when he made his call. “She missed a show so I went to check on things. I heard them through the door and shot it open. He was in bed with her and got out fast. For what it’s worth, his pants were still buttoned. I didn’t know who he was at first, but then he came out and I saw it was the Fleming kid.”
“Go on.”
“I know he was dead on that sidewalk. You saw him. So how does he show up alive now? Is he twins or something?”
“Did you see how he got in?”
“No, and I don’t know how he could have got in. Secret passages, maybe?”
Morelli’s brief and obscene reply shut him up. He must have forgotten ab
out looking for such passages only a little while ago himself. “He could have bribed someone, it happens. What did he look like? Was he normal? What was he wearing?”
“Pants and shoes, I didn’t see no shirt or hat, but I wasn’t there long.”
“What was his face like?”
Gordy didn’t understand what he was after. “It was a face, just like we left him, but God, his eyes—”
“What about them?”
“I swear, they were red . . . there was no white showing at all.”
“Red? Solid red?”
“I saw him like I see you now. The light was good, better than this. I get the creeps thinking on the way he looked.”
“Well, don’t,” he snapped. They were quiet, then Morelli started again. “Look, I know there’s something weird about all this and Fleming, but there’s no sense in going chicken about it. We’ll stay on the boat for the night after we close the club, then tomorrow we’ll really look into everything.”
“Sure, boss.”
“I’ll be in my cabin.”
I followed him out. The passage was short. He found another door and went through. I found another corner near to, but not quite touching, Bobbi, who was sitting on the bed.
“Well?” he said.
“Well what?”
“Gordy saw you two together.”
“Being together doesn’t mean we slept together.”
“Maybe you didn’t have time to sleep.”
“What are you bellyaching about? It was your idea for the sleeping arrangements, not mine, and you’ve a dozen other girls up there since I moved in, and I’ve never said a word, not even when I was in the next room.”
“You’d be in the same room if I wanted two at once. You like your job too much.”
“Two at once, that’s a laugh. You can hardly keep it up for five minutes.”
“You were caught, you bitch, so start shedding and I’ll show you what kind of damage I can do in five minutes.”
“No.”
“If you can put out for a dead man—”
“What do you mean, did you kill him?”
“Yeah, I killed him. He was shot dead in the street two days ago, or didn’t he tell you that?”
“You’re crazy.”
“You can ask Gordy, he was there. You like to screw corpses?” There was a tearing of cloth and the struggling sounds of two bodies against each other. She slapped him and cursed, but he forced her back and down. His mistress or not, I felt compelled to interfere and closed around him like newspaper over a mackeral.
Seconds later he gave his first shiver. “What are you doing?” he asked. Vague as the question was, it was no surprise that she couldn’t answer. He moved off her, falling back against a cabin wall his heart going fast. “You’re here, aren’t you? Why don’t you come out? Come on, Fleming! I know you’re here!”
Bobbi sat still, probably deducing she was locked in with a dangerous lunatic. I didn’t want to push him too much, so I eased off to let him get over his chattering teeth. Neither of them moved; Morelli was listening and Bobbi was watching him.
“Are you all right?” she asked.
“He was here, I knew he was here. He didn’t want me touching you.”
“There’s no one here, Slick. No one.”
“Didn’t you feel the cold? He was here, he’s probably still here, watching.”
“You’re crazy. I’m going to my room.”
“No! You’ll stay here.”
“What for, more roughhouse?”
“If I want it, yes.”
“It’s always what you want, isn’t it?”
The argument started to build again and that’s when I saw my mistake. All the guff between them had been some sort of ritual. They were quickly working up to another knock-down-drag-out. Bobbi had been with someone else and Morelli was reasserting his claim and using his body to do it. Bobbi had said she knew how to handle him, and as for Morelli, I suppose it was none of my business how he expressed his masculinity, as long as he wasn’t really hurting her.
They were yelling now. She goaded him one step too far and then he was on her again and they got down to serious sex. I was not happy about the situation, but left them to it, exiting the cabin. No one had shown up to investigate the noise yet—apparently the crew were used to the histrionics.
Gordy was still in the main cabin, helping himself to the liquor cabinet before he dropped on a window seat to rest. He seemed to be facing out into the room, making an unobserved materialization difficult. I found my corner again, hoped it was out of his immediate line of sight, and tried to solidify.
I tried. It was like pushing a train uphill, caboose and all. I got scared, wondering if my remaining in a prolonged state of disembodiment had become a permanent thing. I tried again, harder. The train moved a little, but it was exhausting. The next time I really concentrated, visualizing each part of my body, willing it to come into being. There was weight. Arms felt like this, legs supported, eyes . . .
Like pouring cold molasses, I re-formed, the effort leaving me weak. Gordy spotted me right away, but he was surprised and it was little work to tell him to stay quiet and take a nap. He slumped over without a peep, leaving me to an undisturbed recovery.
Solid again, with my heightened senses running at full, I was immediately and urgently aware of the vast amount of water all around. Now that I had back hairs again, they were at attention from the lower spine to the top of my head. There was little I could do about the situation except to try and ignore it if possible.
The cabin was smaller than I thought, and I knew I’d been here before. My left hand, keeper of the memory, was twitching of its own accord. I tried to hold it still with the other. Outside I heard the occasional conversation of the crew, though I couldn’t tell how many were aboard. Farther away were some distinct and unmistakable thrashing noises, and from the other sounds they made, they seemed to be enjoying themselves.
A glance around the cabin revealed the bar, table, and chairs and a safe squatting against one wall. Thinking it might have a similar alarm system, I checked the small desk next to it. Almost in the same spot was the on/off switch. It was off now and though there might not be anything valuable aboard, it was worth a try while I had the chance.
It was unlikely it had the same combination as the one at the club, but for the moment I could think of nothing better to do. The tumblers were clicking at the same spots, though, until I got to the last one and had to experiment. My mind wandered between the clicks. I was worried about the difficulty I’d had materializing. The fact that I was over open water was the obvious reason for the trouble, but some illogical twinge of guilt was nagging me about the fact I’d drunk human blood for the first time. Despite my extremely happy experience with Bobbi, I wondered if it made me some sort of monster, after all. As far as the books, the movies, and even the dictionaries were concerned, I was an altogether evil parasite. There was an extraordinary amount of bad press available on vampires and I was understandably worried. All I had to refute it was my own limited experience.
I didn’t feel evil. True, I was a predator, but unlike other hunters, I left my prey alive and in one case, feeling pretty good afterward. I knew I felt better. Perhaps it was just the euphoria of lovemaking, but I did feel stronger. Maybe human blood was the perfect nourishment, it was hands down certainly more exciting and pleasurable to acquire.
The last tumbler clicked into place and the door swung open. Inside was a bundle of cash and unlabeled envelopes full of papers. This stuff looked more like Escott’s specialty and there might not be a second opportunity at it, so I folded everything up and stuffed my pockets, leaving the cash. I was a crusading reporter, not a thief.
“Don’t move,” Gordy said behind me. My attention had wandered too far, and I’d forgotten to keep an eye on him. He told me to turn around.
For the second time that night his gun was on me. He was on the window seat, but far from relaxed if I could tell any
thing about his thudding heartbeat. Still, he was remarkably calm about facing the supernatural. I doubted I would have had anywhere near the same moxie. I thought about putting him to sleep again and turned it down. It was better to wait for Morelli to come; it was time to settle things up.
He called to someone topside and told them to get Morelli. From the straining noises coming from the cabin down the way, such an interruption would not be welcome. I suppose I could have delayed things for another crucial moment, but why should one of my murderers have any fun? I listened, trying to keep a straight face as the errand runner knocked on the door. Morelli breathlessly told him to go away. The runner delivered his brief message. Morelli told him to go to hell. The runner left, his job completed and the damage done. Morelli had to work hard to get worked up and now his concentration was thoroughly broken. After a short while, he gave up and things got quiet. In another minute he came charging in, loaded for bear.
“Goddammit, Gordy! What—”
Gordy just pointed at me with his free hand.
Morelli went all white in the face. I was getting used to seeing him in that color. He was looking rumpled already, with his hair messed up and wearing only a bathrobe. I hadn’t improved things.
“Oh, God, it’s him,” he said out loud, but only to himself.
“He’s the one I saw, Slick, except his eyes aren’t red now.”
No one moved. Perhaps Morelli was afraid I’d vanish again. It was tempting, but if I failed I didn’t want to in front of them. The fewer weaknesses shown, the better.
“Look at his clothes, there’s the holes and the blood’s still there.” Gordy stood to be in a more functional position to shoot.
Morelli was indeed looking at me. He noticed the clothes; I still hadn’t buttoned my shirt and its tails hung sloppily out front. He also noticed that Escott’s makeup job was gone.
