by Clark Hays
Yes, I know, thought Sully, that’s one of the reasons Lazarus chose to turn you. That and to contribute to his pet theater project in London’s eastside. She was indeed a fine actress. Sully downed his champagne dramatically and threw his glass onto the floor, startling Mathilda when the glass shattered.
“I love doing that,” he said, giggling. “I must be off. I have to attend a church service.”
“Sully, what’s the secret?” Mathilda pouted, but his answer was lost in the slam of the door behind him.
THIRTY-FOUR
Soon, she would go, but not just yet. She wanted a little more time to look at Tucker.
He was sleeping quietly, sleep, Lizzie suspected, he desperately needed. He looked so peaceful, his face years younger, free of the recent lines of worry she had caused. She loved him more than she thought possible, more by the minute, and now wanted to remember every line, every mark on his face. She did not touch him for fear of waking him, and fear of what he might say; her hand moved just above his body, mimicking his shape, the hard edges.
She knew he would never leave her. If the thought even entered his mind, it was now gone, replaced by a certainty that would keep him beside her. Perhaps it was his sense of honor, something deeply bred in his bones having to do with cowboy codes and happy endings that prevented him from getting himself out of this mess. There would be no happy ending here, the letters made that all too clear.
At worst, she would live for all eternity like an animal. At best, after contacting Lazarus, she would let the sun have its way with her and be done with it. No matter which, Tucker deserved better and she was going to see he had it.
It was as simple as leaving him now, finding Sully and Lazarus, and then, well, whatever. Tucker could go back to LonePine, find a good woman, have a baby or two and chase off his alpacas. That was the life he was meant to live.
Should she write a note? Yes. Otherwise he might wait here for days, or worse, put himself in danger looking for her. She took the photo of her mother and Julius, scribbled on the back of it: Tucker, I love you. Please go back to LonePine. Don’t forget me but don’t wait for me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for everything.
As she moved closer to him to put the photo on his chest, she realized that he was awake, following her every move with his eyes.
“You running out on me?” he asked quietly.
“I, well, what I, I …” her voice trailed off. “Yes.”
“That ain’t an option.”
“Ain’t isn’t a word,” she sniffed. “And this ain’t a cowboy movie. You should go home, live a real life.”
“Find some new girl, you mean?”
“Yes. Someone who doesn’t drink blood and die every morning.”
“I ain’t going anywhere. End of story.”
“What if I want you to?”
“Do you? Really?” he asked.
“Yes.” She stood. “I’m going to church now to meet Sully. And I don’t want to see you again, Tucker. Ever.”
“What about Rex?” Rex wagged his tail hopefully.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Go home.” She spun around and stomped out the door, heart heavy to leave Tucker behind. He smiled and shook his head, muttering.
Outside, Lizzie walked out of the catacombs and up into the church nave. There was no sound of Tucker behind her. Good, she thought, at least he listened. Damn him for listening.
She made her way through the sparse crowd, back to the pew where she sat with her mother so long ago. Or was it the one behind? She could not quite remember. A few churchgoers eyed her suspiciously as she sat down, torn clothes, bare feet and exhausted eyes, but she ignored them and bowed her head.
“My, my, my. You look like you’ve been through the wringer,” came a familiar woman’s voice. “And I had so hoped we would never meet again.”
Lizzie turned to see Elita smiling coquettishly at her from the aisle. Before Lizzie had a chance to respond, Elita said, “The entire church is surrounded. You can’t possibly escape. But I’d be delighted if you tried. I’d love to drag you out of here by your hair. Your choice.” Her voice crackled with ferocity, but she never lost her smile.
Lizzie stood in frustrated obedience. She noticed Sully sitting demurely two pews behind. Her eyes met his and he nodded almost imperceptibly. She felt a surge of hope, then looked quickly away and let her face show resignation as Elita led her out of the church.
Just then, Tucker slipped in one pew behind Sully, his massive pistol leveled at the base of the diminutive vampire’s neck. “You Sully?”
“Yep, pardner. Reckon I am.”
Tucker was startled for an instant, then shook his head and lowered the gun out of sight. “Any ideas?”
“Oh, yes,” said Sully, lapsing back into his normal speech pattern, “but I think she’ll need inside help.”
“You saying I should go with her?”
“It would be most convenient if you were captured.”
Tucker paused thoughtfully before responding. “See you in a little while then?” he asked hopefully.
“Oh, most definitely,” Sully said. “We will be there at,” he checked his watch, “nine-thirty tomorrow night. It would be most helpful if you created a small diversion.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Tucker stood and squared his shoulders and walked outside. “You’ll never take her alive,” he shouted and rushed headfirst at the mob of vampires hustling Lizzie into the waiting limo. Rex ran behind, barking furiously.
By the time the confusion ended, Tucker and Lizzie sat facing each other in the back of the limo. Tucker’s guns were on the front seat, separated from them by a thick layer of plexiglass, and their hands were manacled behind their backs. Rex was tied to the door handle with a length of rope and he looked forlornly at Tucker, then back at Lizzie.
On either side of them was a silent vampire. Elita sat in the jumpseat, directly behind the driver, idly flipping through the latest issue of Cosmopolitan.
Lizzie glared at Tucker. “I told you I never wanted to see you again. What the hell were you thinking? You just don’t know when to give up, do you?”
Tucker shrugged. “I didn’t believe you.”
“Do you believe me now?”
“No,” he said.
“You are so pigheaded and ridiculously stubborn.”
He leaned toward her. “Ain’t that kind of the pot calling the kettle black?”
“If my hands were free, I swear I’d choke the life right out of you,” Lizzie said. “Don’t you see, whatever happens to me will be bearable as long as I know you are all right?” She leaned closer, their faces now inches apart now. “But no, you had to waltz in and ruin everything.”
“That’s some gratitude for a guy risking his ass to save yours,” he said, voice rising.
“Who asked you to?” she yelled.
“Enough,” Elita said, throwing the magazine so that it bounced off Tucker’s head and fell onto Rex. She pushed them back into their seats. “You are driving me out of my mind. You sound like an old married couple.”
She looked into Lizzie’s eyes. “Like he could just turn his back on you,” Elita said. “He loves you. And you,” she turned to Tucker, “don’t you see she was trying to protect you?” Her shoulders slumped. “Oh, God, this is so nauseating.” She retrieved her magazine and slumped back into the seat.
Several minutes passed. Tucker glared at Lizzie, who glared back at him. Finally she said, “You’ll never take her alive. What the does that even mean?”
“It’s all I could come up with,” he said with a shrug.
Elita shook her head behind the magazine and scowled.
“Why didn’t you just stay at the church?” Lizzie asked tiredly.
He arched his eyebrow. “Because I didn’t want to sully our relationship.”
“Our relationship would be a lot better off if one of us hadn’t been captured by these goons.”
Tucker rolled his eyes. “No, our chance o
f escape would have been sullied if I’d stayed behind.”
“Oh,” she said at last, understanding. She nodded.
Elita looked up curiously and started to say something, but the limo stopped outside the rowhouses. Shrugging, she opened the door, ushering the captives outside and dragged Rex by the rope.
Tucker and Lizzie were hustled through the darkened gardens toward the main house, pushed roughly by their captors. When Tucker balked, the vampire behind him punched him in the kidneys. The force of the blow dropped him to his knees. Tucker struggled back up and glared at the sinister face. “If my hands were free,” he grumbled, “I’d whip your ass.”
The vampire grinned. “I’d be delighted if you tried,” he said, driving his fist into Tucker’s gut. All the air rushed out of him and he doubled over. “Some other time, perhaps.”
“You piece of shit,” Tucker mumbled through gritted teeth. He straightened up. “What’s your name?”
“I am Revor. Why?”
“I like to be on a first name basis with the assholes I kill,” Tucker said.
Revor jerked his arms savagely and laughed.
Julius was waiting in the lobby smiling victoriously as the party entered. “Elizabeth, so good to see you again. And Tucker, loyal Tucker. My heartfelt thanks at leading us straight to our queen.”
Tucker glowered at him.
Lizzie quickly scanned the room. “I don’t think this is a suitable way to treat your queen,” she said.
Julius chuckled. “Don’t get carried away, my dear. You proved your allegiances when you fled. Come, bring them.” He gestured expansively up the staircase. “We have prepared a special room.”
“I was kind of getting used to the church,” Tucker said as Revor pushed him forward.
“I will admit, you have a certain charm,” Julius said. His face quickly darkened as he took the first step and then pivoted abruptly. “Let me tell you the way things are to be now. You are my prisoner,” he said, pointing at Lizzie. “You will be held here until I have what I want from you. Depending on your level of cooperation, I may let you live after that. You,” he pointed at Tucker, “are my hostage. If Elizabeth disobeys my wishes, you will be killed. In an extremely slow and painful way.”
He smiled at Revor who stood close behind. “Of course, Elizabeth, you will be obliged to watch his demise.” He paused, lost in the force of his own words. “The dog dies now. A reminder of the seriousness of my concerns. Elita, dispose of the mutt.”
Elita scooped Rex off the floor and held him tight in her arms, beaming at Tucker.
“You bitch,” Tucker roared. “Let him be.” He lunged at her but Revor lashed out, cracking his fist into Tucker’s temple. Tucker collapsed to the floor with a groan. Lizzie took an involuntary step forward, but Julius seized her by the shoulders.
“Cooperate, or he dies now.”
She stared hard into his face then shook herself free.
“Whatever you say, Father.”
Julius paled, even closer to white, and took a step back. “Who told you that?” he stammered. Then his eyes fell on the pendant glittering on her throat. He snatched it away, regarded it briefly, then smiled and placed it in his vest pocket. “It would seem I underestimated your mother. I’ll keep this for now.”
“Take me to my room,” she replied, moving past him, trying to keep him off balance as long as possible. Revor hoisted Tucker over his shoulder and carried him to the top of the stairs. A door stood open and he dumped Tucker unceremoniously inside. Lizzie stepped in as well and Revor unbound their hands. Julius stood in the doorway, his face tight.
“Do not try to escape. It is impossible.”
“Don’t kill the dog,” she said, “it will be your undoing.”
“A dog? Don’t make me laugh.” He stepped out of the room and slammed the door
Lizzie fell to her knees and cradled Tucker’s head in her lap.
THIRTY-FIVE
Outside, Julius spun around to face Elita triumphantly, his hand on the door handle. “That certainly went well.”
She allowed herself a tight smile and readjusted her grip on the collar of the dog under her arm. Rex lolled his head passively, his wide eyes on the room where Tucker lay, now sealed tight.
“I must give you credit for this, my dear,” Julius said. “Your plan worked splendidly.”
“I am so happy for you,” she said. “Your princess has returned. It will be interesting to see if you let her escape again.”
His hand closed involuntarily around the door handle and the brass squeaked and groaned under the pressure. “Mind your tongue, Elita.” He took a threatening step forward and she shrank from him. Given the blood to spare, she would have flushed. Even Rex, almost catatonic from fear in her arms, bared his teeth in alarm at Julius. “I will not tolerate your petty jealousy. If you find this situation no longer to your liking, feel free to leave.”
“Maybe I will,” she said shakily, chin raised defiantly.
“Don’t let me stop you.” He brushed past her down the hall and called over his shoulder. “Enjoy the dog. Consider it a parting gift.”
Elita stood frozen in the corridor, her face transformed by shock and despair. As the grief played itself out, she looked down at Rex and snarled at him. “I almost hate to take this out on you,” she said. “But not quite.”
She carried Rex through the mansion and down the spiral stairs into the heart of the underground complex, passing scores of other vampires who smiled enviously at the burden in her arms.
She said nothing, walking straight to the door of her elegant room. Keeping one hand on his collar, she placed Rex on the floor and reached up to open the handle. Rex lay completely motionless as the door swung open. She tugged him forward by the collar. “This is going to be too easy,” she said, bending low to envelop him.
With a snarl and alarming speed, Rex came to life.
Where a second before, he had been lying still, feigning resignation, in a flash he extended in a jump that allowed him to clamp his own fangs into the soft flesh of her breast. It surprised her more than hurt, but she fell backward and swatted at him as he disengaged and bolted for the door, scooting around the corner just before it swung closed.
She howled in rage and looked down at her torn blouse. Blood seeped from the teeth marks on her half-exposed breast, staining the torn fabric. She pulled the pieces back into place and, fumbling at the door latch, opened it in time to see Rex disappearing down the hall. A dozen bewildered vampires turned to see who had made so much noise as Rex negotiated through them at breakneck speed.
“Get that damn dog,” she screamed, startling them all into motion, but it was too late as Rex was already bounding up the stairs. She charged after him, shouldering through the confused vampires. “Idiots,” she snarled. When she cleared the landing, he was nowhere in sight so she paused, listening deeply. The faint click of claws across linoleum reached her ears. The kitchen.
She sprinted down the hall and smashed through the swinging doors in time to see Rex darting across the dining room. A string of curses formed in her mouth but were cut off as the doors swung back and sent her tumbling. She sat on the linoleum and raged. “I despise dogs,” she screamed at the empty kitchen. She let her senses flood out of her, seeking a cowering, flea-bitten, canine form, but found nothing.
One of the vampires entered the kitchen. “Miss Elita, can I be of assistance?”
“Of course you can be of assistance. Find that goddamn dog.”
“Perhaps he went outside.”
“Well, go outside and look for him.”
The vampire hurried to the garden’s main door and held it open, surveying the darkened grounds outside. A furry flash streaked past him and the vampire swore. “He’s out here, Miss Elita,” he yelled, sprinting after him.
Elita raced out into the night and felt a strange thrill coursing through her veins despite the ridiculous nature of this game. There was a time, in her wild, untamed youth, when the hunt
was the single joy of her life. Not prowling the streets for some young, sexually desperate man or needy woman to take home, but running the woods and taking her prey with tooth and claw. A worn-out cowboy’s worn-out dog was a far cry from the knights and highwaymen of the Dark Ages, but it was still invigorating. So be it, the hunt was on.
With a laugh, she threw herself into the darkness and felt the cool air against her face and the wet grass beneath her feet. Reaching out, she found the scent of fear and increased her speed until it was almost like flying.
THIRTY-SIX
Tucker opened his eyes into a memory. When he was a child, he slept under apple trees in an orchard on the ranch, planted back in the days when the stagecoach used to come through. Lying in the grass, he would stare up through the fruit-heavy branches at the sky and clouds, standing every so often to pick an apple, eating it slowly and savoring the fresh, tart surprise of it. Waking now in the darkness and holding Lizzie close, he felt the same warmth and peace as in the orchard. There was even a faint trace of apple, of sunshine trapped in her hair, and he buried his face in the nape of her neck, which was cold as spring water.
He disentangled himself from her stiff, unyielding limbs, marveling grimly at the wonder of it all. He peered through the heavy drapes to fix the position of the sun, well established in the smog of the Manhattan sky. He moved slowly, careful not to let any of the sunshine touch her sleeping form. Settling back onto the bed, he pursed his lips to give Rex a wake-up whistle and then realized with numb horror that Rex had been taken last night. The last thing he remembered was Elita yanking Rex away by the collar and a fist that came out of nowhere. The rest was blackness.
He massaged the lump on his head as the most recent disaster sank in. What the hell else could go wrong, he wondered. If past experience with Elita taught him anything, Rex was gone, empty as last night’s beer can. With a hoarse cry, Tucker attacked the door, swearing and kicking and raging until his voice was ragged, threatening all who lived or unlived in that accursed mansion if anything happened to his dog.
