Bill The Vampire - 01

by Rick Gualtieri

  Sally gave me an eye roll (it had been a few hours since the last one, I was almost starting to miss them... almost), and replied, “Some myths are real. Some are just the result of someone getting high off the local fauna and having a bad acid trip.”

  Yeah, I guess that made sense. Forget myth, there was some seriously weird shit that popped up from time to time in the news. No doubt a good chunk of it could be explained away as someone watering down their hooch with a little too much antifreeze. “Fine, no werewolves,” I said with a touch of regret. “Then what attacked those covens?”

  “How am I supposed to know?” Sally sniffed. “We're vampires. We have enemies. Not all of them are human.”

  Remembering something from the other night, I asked, while trying to sound more knowledgeable than I was, “Does this have anything to you with your war against the feet?”

  That seemed to catch her by surprise as she rounded on me, “Where did you hear about that?”

  “Around,” I coyly replied. “So, does it?”

  “I don't know,” she said quietly, as if in contemplation.

  Of course, then Tom had to go and ruin it by chiming in. “Feet? Is there some kind of demonic foot fungus at work here? I hear they sell spray for that.” That more or less killed the mood, and any chance I had at getting answers to a question that... well okay, a question I hadn't given a second thought to before now, but hey, knowledge is power. Maybe I should have listened to Sally's earlier advice and just left my roommates at home.

  Sally shook her head and said, attitude returning, “It's not important. What is important is that James is out of the country, and what's very important for you, Bill, is that it's for an indeterminate amount of time.”

  I felt a little tingling at the base of my brainstem as she said that, but I thought it best to ask rather than assume. “It's important to me, why?”

  “Because you're under James' protection. With him gone, Colin or another vampire will step in to do his duties, but protection is another matter entirely. That's not transferable. If he's not around, it's as good as out of sight, out of mind.”

  “But you said indeterminate,” I replied, grasping at whatever straws I could. “That means he could be back a year from now, or he could be back tomorrow.”

  “It doesn't really work that way for us,” she pointed out. “If James was called in from five-thousand miles away and not given any time to settle his accounts first, that means whatever is going down is pretty big, and the Khan wants someone he can trust to look into it. Whatever James is going to do for him, you can bet it'll be with a fine-toothed comb. Immortals can afford to be thorough.”

  “Which means...?”

  “Which means that if I was a betting girl, and I am, my money would be on not expecting to see James again for at least six months... probably more.”

  “But if Jeff snuffs me now...”

  She cut me off, “Then who's to say he didn't do it two months from now? You think anyone in the coven is going to officially rat him out? Not likely. Being a coven leader has its perks, not the least of which is that he's going to be given the benefit of the doubt.”

  “All of this assumes he knows James is out of the country,” Ed pointed out.

  Sally turned to me to answer, “Remember back there when I said that Jeff and I both knew Colin?” I nodded in return. “Well, we do. That means that if I knew how to grease Colin's wheels...” that caught Tom's attention, and he turned back toward us with wide eyes and rapt attention. “With money, you pervert!” Tom turned away, suddenly losing interest. “If I knew how to get Colin to talk, then Jeff obviously does, too.”

  “If he suspected...”

  “Oh, stop it,” she snapped back. “Jeff may be stupid, but he's over a hundred and twenty years old. He knows how to play the game. Even if he didn't, Colin's not known for his sense of humor.”

  I nodded, but Ed asked, “What do you mean by that?”

  “I kinda, sorta might have joked to him, as we were leaving, that I reformatted his computer,” I admitted.

  “But did you actually do it?” he asked.

  “It doesn't matter,” Sally said, “guys like him have massive egos. Most vampires, once they get a few centuries under their belt, lose the ability to laugh at their own expense.”

  Ed got it. “So, even if Jeff didn't grease the wheels, so to speak, you think this Colin guy might give him a call and spill his guts just as a farewell ‘fuck you’.”

  “Yeah,” she answered. “Petty revenge is pretty much his middle name.”

  “I guess there's something to be said for occasionally letting the other guy get the last word.”

  “Yeah,” I replied. “I'm beginning to think maybe I should occasionally just keep my mouth shut.”

  “Kinda like a smoker who decides to quit after he’s already found out he has lung cancer?” Tom remarked.

  “Better late than never, I guess,” was the only answer I had for that.

  We drove on in silence for a little while, until Tom couldn't take it anymore. “So, what are we going to do about this puddle of shit we find ourselves wading into?”

  “I've been thinking about that,” replied Ed. “As far as I can tell, there's only one thing we can do.”

  “Let me guess, settle my affairs and pick out a nice urn to hold my ashes?” I morosely asked.

  “Vampirism is lost upon you,” Ed sighed. “No, dingleberry, we take the fight to Jeff. We hunt down and kill the fucker before he can do it to you!”

  There was a moment of stunned silence before Tom once again chimed in, “And by we, you mean...”

  “WE, dipshit! As in all of us, as in I don't want to spend the next several weeks screening for a new roommate.” Ed's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “As in, he fucks with one of us...”

  “He fucks with all of us!” I finished.

  Tom just shrugged, “Oh, well. Guess I've lead a good life. At least I can go out knowing I've gotten more action than either of you two fags.”

  “Your left hand doesn't count,” Sally piped in before her tone turned serious again. “It won't be easy. Jeff's a lot more powerful than any of us.”

  I smiled. “Us? So does that mean you want to come to our little party?”

  “I can try. I told you once already, I can't stand Jeff. I wouldn't shed any tears if he wound up a pile of ash. There's only one problem.”

  “What?”

  “Jeff can't order you around, but I'm a different story,” she explained. “I can maybe resist his compulsions to a degree, but there's nothing to say he either won't be able to stop me in my tracks with a word, or maybe even outright turn me against you.”

  “Earplugs, maybe?” Tom suggested.

  “Doesn't work like that. It's a psychic thing. They don't make plugs for that.”

  “When he tried to compel the others to attack me the other week, it didn't work,” I pointed out.

  “Fear and doubt are powerful emotions, even for a compulsion to overcome,” she replied. “Sorry to say, Bill, but I'm not all that afraid of you.”

  “What about hatred?” I asked.

  “What?”

  “Think about it,” I said. “You said fear is a powerful emotion. Hatred is, too. If you focus on how much you hate his guts, maybe that'll work, too.”

  She didn't have a reply for that one. She just sat there, thinking it over.

  Tom smiled at me. “Damn, Bill. I think that might be the first good idea I've ever seen you come up with.”

  “What about you, Ed?” I asked. “What do you think?”

  “What I think,” he answered, “is that maybe we should see if we can coax a little more speed out of this thing while we still have the element of surprise.”

  * * *

  Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best of ideas. Ed brought the Escalade up to around eighty as soon as traffic eased up a bit. That allowed us to burn off more miles, for about twenty minutes, until we saw flashing red and blue lights behind
us. In the dark we had never seen the speed trap.

  “Just fucking great!” Ed exclaimed.

  “Yeah,” Tom added. “This is definitely going to slow us down.”

  “Especially the whole stolen-vehicle-with-a-dead-owner thing. That ought to slow us down just a little bit,” Sally reminded us all. “But don't worry. I'm sure you'll all find boyfriends nice and quick at Rikers.”

  “Shit! I forgot about that part,” Ed snarled. “So, what do we do?”

  “Preferably without causing a multi-state manhunt for a bunch of cop killers,” I said, eyeballing Sally.

  “You take all the fun out of this,” she cooed. “I don't suppose you're all up for a high speed chase?”

  “In this land-yacht?”

  “No, I suppose not,” she said, still without a trace of panic. “Looks like there's an exit coming up in about a mile. Take it and then pull over, preferably someplace dark.”

  “And then?” Ed asked.

  “And then try not to act guilty, obviously.”

  Ed did as instructed. Tom, for his part, managed to get his shit together long enough to rummage through the glove compartment for anything useful. He was in luck and came up with both a registration and insurance card for one Harold Lively... ironic considering his not so lively status right now, if Sally was to be believed.

  The exit, as many in upstate New York tend to be, was dark and not well traveled. For about the ten-thousandth time in my life, I marveled how such vast rural desolation could exist so close to the insane urban sprawl of the city. Street lights were few and far between, as was exiting traffic, thankfully. Thus, Ed had no problem pulling over into the gloom as the boys in blue glided in behind us.

  “Now, everyone just be cool,” Sally said, sounding like a character in a Quentin Tarantino movie.

  The cop, a lone trooper on interstate traffic duty, got out and slowly walked up to the driver’s side window. Ed put on his best friendly smile. “Good evening, officer,” he said, perhaps a little too overly chipper.

  In return he got the standard, “License and registration, sir,” response followed by, “In a rush tonight?” in a fairly bored tone.

  Ed handed over the documents and answered, “Heh. Sorry about that. Sometimes I forget how fast this boat can actually go.”

  “Uh huh. Have you been drinking tonight, Mr. Vesser?” asked the trooper, glancing at the license.

  “No, sir!” Ed replied, in that same trying-too-hard tone. “Just borrowed my uncle's car to take some friends to the movies.”

  “Wait right here, sir,” said the trooper, turning back toward his cruiser to probably run the license and registration through the system.

  “Smooth going, slick,” whispered Sally. She then opened the door and stepped out. The cop stopped what he was doing for a moment, no doubt to take in the sight of Sally. She had that effect on people. However, then his training took over.

  “Please step back into the car, ma'am,” he said, his eyes appearing to be focused on a spot somewhere south of Sally's face.

  “Please, sir!” she said in a voice that sounded genuinely agitated. “I need to speak to you. Please!” That last one caught the cop's attention and he waved her over.

  He yelled back toward us, “The rest of you just stay where you are!” and together they walked back to his car.

  “What the hell is she up to?” I asked once she was out of earshot... maybe, damn sensitive vampire hearing.

  “Dude!” Tom said. “Isn't is obvious? Chick like that knows how to play ‘em. A little sucky-sucky action, and we'll be on our way.”

  “No. I don’t think so,” Ed replied. “Did you see the way she was acting? She better not be selling our asses out. What do you think, Bill?”

  “She has shown a penchant for bitch-like behavior, I will admit,” I replied, starting to wonder if maybe this wasn't a good idea. I really hoped she wasn't about to fuck us over. If she did, I'd probably have to act. Sure, I didn't want to have a dead cop on my conscience, but I didn't want to wind up in San Quentin, either. Of course, that assumed I lived long enough for that. One medical exam, and I'm sure some lawyer would try parading my ass out into the sunlight for a press conference, and then POOF! No more Bill.

  “So, what do we do?” Tom asked. He had been so caught up in his little X-rated fantasy that he hadn't considered the other possibilities. Now a slight twinge of panic was working its way into his voice.

  Before I could answer, most likely with something lame like, “I dunno.” Ed spoke up, “We play it by ear. Pretty much the only thing we can do. If it comes down to it, Sally's not the only vampire in the car.”

  “Are you sure, I should...” I started to say, but Ed cut me off.

  “Listen. From the sounds of things, we're already waist deep in shit's creek. You, my friend, are in even deeper. If she's trying to screw us over, you're gonna need to decide whether you're going to swim or swallow.”

  “Okay.” was about the only intelligent response I was capable of giving. Hopefully it didn't come down to that.

  We all turned to watch what was happening. The cop's car still had the flashers going, so it was difficult to tell. However, we could see both their silhouettes. However, that all changed in the space of a heartbeat... for those of you who still have heartbeats, at least. One second there were two shadows, and the next, it was a jumbled confusion.

  A few moments passed and the lights on the police car all turned off. When my vision had readjusted to the darkness, I saw Sally closing the front door of the squad car and starting to walk back toward us. Sprawled, unmoving in the dirt next to the car, was the police officer.

  I jumped out of the Escalade to confront her, but when she reached the car she looked oddly out of breath. Weird. She should've been able to break that guy in half without so much as suffering a hair out of place. Before I could speak, she held up a hand to silence me. “I suggest,” she said, catching her breath, “we discuss this on the road.”

  Sound advice, all in all. I held open the door to let her in. She stumbled a bit, so I helped her out, catching an elbow in the gut for my troubles. Oof! Guess she wasn't that wiped out. Jeez, it's not like I was purposely trying to cop a feel. Not my fault her ass just happened to be in the way.

  That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.

  Ed, not being a fool, peeled out the second I was back in the car. I saw his eyes lock onto Sally in the rear view as he said, “No bullshit! I want to know exactly how fucked we are!”

  “Relax,” she wheezed. “Whew! That took more out of me than I thought it would. We're fine. Harold Lively is the one who's fucked, and, considering his current condition, I don't think he'll mind all that much.”

  “I have no clue what you're talking about. English please.”

  “What did you do?” I asked, even though I had a sneaky suspicion of what she was going to say.

  “I compelled the cop. Basically planted the thought in his mind that Harold was alone in the car. Then I decked him.”

  “You can do that to a person?” Ed asked.

  “Well, yeah, all you do is ball up your fist and...”

  “No! The first part!” he clarified.

  “I guess so,” she answered. “Heard it could be done, but never tried it myself. Thought my head was going to pop off there for a second, but then it took hold.”

  “But the cop's okay?” I asked.

  “I'm touched that you care,” she answered with her typical attitude. “He's gonna be out for a while. Cracked jaw and probably a concussion, but he should be fine. Harold, on the other hand, is going to have one hell of an APB out for him,” she finished with a smile, pleased at her own cleverness.

  “Impressive,” I said.

  “It was, wasn't it?” she agreed smugly.

  “Yes, with one little exception.”

  “What? Annoyed that I didn't consult with you first?” she sniffed.

  “No,” I continued. “Annoyed because the cops are going to be af
ter us, anyway.”

  “You might want to catch up with the conversation,” she replied. “I just finished telling everyone that the cops would be after Harold.”

  “Yes, Harold. Who just happens to be driving around in the same Escalade that we just happen to be driving in,” I said with just a trace of my own smugness.

  She just stared at me with a blank look and then blurted out, “Oh, crap!”

  “Oh, crap, is right,” I agreed. “Thus, I suggest we hightail it back to the city as soon as possible, and ditch the pimp mobile here at the first chance we get.”