Eville's Most Wanted

by Holand Peterson

  As Tiberius hobbled off into another room, humming cheerfully, Serene slumped into the recliner, gazing about the scene with a smile on her lips and in her eyes. Alex flopped onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching his legs as far out in front of him as he could, while motioning to Moody that there was plenty of space for her to sit beside him. The hunchback, however, plodded over to a nearby loveseat and tossed the electronic components piled upon it onto the floor with a crash. She then threw her little body onto the furniture, stretched out full so that her head rested on one arm, feet on the other, with her hairy toes curling in the air contentedly.

  “Here we are!” Tiberius announced, holding aloft a large bottle of bubbling liquor and four glasses. After serving his guests he sat down next to Alex. “A toast! Bibo ergo sum!”

  “Hear! Hear!” Serene chimed approvingly, draining her glass and then holding it out for Tiberius to refill. “I drink, therefore I am,” she translated for Alex, noticing the confused look on his face.

  “That pretty well sums you up,” the young man laughed, raising his glass in salute and then sipping it.

  For the better part of the afternoon Alex listened quietly as Serene and Tiberius laughed and drank merrily, reminiscing about the old days, and conversing a great deal about each other’s latest projects. His only participation in the discussion was limited to a polite smile and nod every now and again, as the matters being talked about were so far over his head that the two inventors may as well have been speaking another language. In fact, he half wondered at times if they were not actually speaking in some rare dialect known only among the scientific elite of this bizarre world he was now a visitor in. Moody, on the other hand, made no attempts at courtesy to their host, and almost immediately after gulping down her drink set into an obnoxiously loud snore, a tiny trickle of drool slipping out of the corner of her mouth as she napped.

  It wasn’t until a good while after their arrival, following a hodgepodge supper hastily thrown together by Tiberius, that the conversation finally got down to the business at hand, and to the whole reason Serene had gone out of her way to pay the inventor a visit in the first place. “So you’re having a spot of trouble with those fancy-pants bloodsuckers, eh?” Tiberius asked after draining his glass for the zillionth time.

  “Indeed, my good man,” Serene replied with a huff. “Both Alex and Quasimoody were unexpectedly molested by the Cosa Nosferatu villains as we stopped briefly in New Brasov.”

  “By which she means attacked,” Alex hurriedly clarified.

  “I see. Actually, I was referring to those scum sucking parasites, the UEL,” Tiberius explained, tugging his beard in irritation. “But the vampires are no doubt quite an inconvenience as well. But what in blazes do either of them want with you, anyway?”

  “Don’t you get the news out here?” Alex asked in surprise. “From what I understand our faces have been plastered across every newspaper and Visi-screen in your entire world.”

  “I don’t bother with either,” Tiberius said, waving his hand dismissively. “I don’t trust those frauds to tell the truth any more than a goblin soothsayer. What’s this hubbub all about?”

  Serene spent the better part of the next hour relishing the opportunity to retell the sequence of events beginning shortly after Alex’s arrival at Necrosia mansion, all the way down to their escape from New Brasov. Her story had become even more elaborate and remarkable since she had recited it to Eugene and Thistle back on the Varlic farm, with the necessity for her to frequently rise from her chair and pantomime her heroic feats, swinging her fork in the air to mimic Spleen Cleaver, or jabbing it assertively into the leftovers on her plate in imitation of her mighty deathblows inflicted upon the famed squid beasties. Naturally, every several minutes she demanded her glass be refilled by the enraptured Tiberius for, as she put it, “weaving an epic tale is thirsty work.”

  “Inspiring!” Tiberius clapped, Serene’s tale having drawn to a close. “Simply inspiring! I’m so proud of you, Serene! I feel the need to fly to my workbench this instant and tackle the greatest project of my career! Bravo!” Serene stood up from her seat and bowed majestically for several long seconds, arms held out as if to catch a wave of adulation washing over her. “I wish I had been in Eville to see it all with my own two eyes!” Tiberius clapped triumphantly.

  “Trust me, you don’t,” Alex hurriedly butted in.

  “Anyhoo, as I said earlier,” the old inventor continued, “you came to the right place, my dear. Before you leave my home you shall be so perfectly equipped, so masterfully outfitted, that the three of you could wipe out an entire army of UEL and CN filth without breaking a sweat or revealing the slightest hint of your whereabouts.” Abruptly he pushed back his chair and stood up, somewhat wobbling, Alex noted, most likely from the copious drinking throughout dinner. “By my honor, I, Tiberius Swinefeld, hereby swear to aid you in this righteous crusade!”

  “Truly, you are a friend without peer,” Serene bowed again, having as of yet not returned to her chair.

  “Already my mind is set to burst from the ideas swelling within! How long before you and your companions must depart?”

  “I’m afraid we must be off in the morning, old friend.”

  “More than enough time! But quick, to the laboratory!” With a loud squeak Tiberius charged out of the room, clumsily knocking objects over as he went, humming something akin to a rousing, patriotic anthem, while Serene marched behind, picking up the tune in her own croaking warble.

  Within minutes the rooms upstairs began thumping, vibrating, buzzing, the sound of energetic madness Alex had become so accustomed to under Serene’s roof. And the sound continued. And continued. After a couple of hours, the sun now long retreated from the western sky, it became obvious that the two inventors had entirely forgotten about Moody and himself, and would likely not be seen again until morning. The two employees entertained themselves for a while by playing with the bizarre contraptions strewn about, making bets on what their purpose was and whether they ever actually performed as originally intended. Eventually, however, boredom and sleepiness in equal measure set in. Moody crashed onto the loveseat, wrapping herself in the dirty tablecloth used during their dinner for a substitute blanket, while Alex kicked off his shoes and stretched out full on the other couch.

  Despite feeling more than a little exhausted, Alex couldn’t fall asleep. There was the incessant racket upstairs, for one thing, partnered with the fear that the ceiling might cave in or the roof be blown off at any moment, considering Serene’s track record. Not to mention the continuous stream of odd noises constantly emanating from Tiberius’ contraptions stacked from one corner of the living room to the other. But more than those disquieting noises kept him tossing and turning. This was the first time since leaving the Varlic farm that he had been granted the opportunity to stop and really think about everything that had happened, to collect his thoughts in peace without Serene unraveling her insane ways at his side. Things were bad enough knowing that the law of the land wanted them dead or alive, but now that these freaking vampire mafia thugs had shown up…well, these guys might be an even greater danger than space squids or any other monstrosity Serene might haphazardly conjure. He thought of that forger, the one called Scarab, lying lifeless on the floor, blank, unseeing eyes toward the ceiling. He’d never seen a dead body before, much less witnessed a cold-blooded murder before his own eyes. Just the thought made his pulse quicken and his stomach churn. That could have been him, shot to death, left to rot in some bizarre city a million miles away from his old home. And for what? His life was in danger, not for some heroic, important cause, but due only to his employer’s ambition and pride. He shuddered, recalling those cruel eyes of the vampire who shot the forger. “Moody?” he whispered. “Moody, are you awake?”

  “No. I’m sleeping. Piss off.”

  “I can’t sleep.”

  “Sucks to be you.”

  Following a lengthy pause, Alex asked, “Do you ever think about what
your life would be like…you know, if you didn’t work for Serene?” Moody rolled over in the loveseat, her back turned to him. “I mean…you could have a normal life, doing…well, whatever it is that normal hunchbacks do. It’s not like…not like all of this is even for a good cause. We don’t even get paid worth crap, from what I understand — not that any amount of money is worth this misery. Hell, we don’t get much of anything aside from constant terror and the threat of pain and death. We’re just…screwed. All the time.”

  “Listen up, little man,” Moody rolled over to face Alex. “You want to know what “normal” is for a hunchback? Before working with Serene I traveled with the Brumbleguss Brothers and their ’Carnival of Horrors.’”

  “You were a carny? That’s awesome,” he laughed.

  “Oh yeah, freaking wonderful. Guess who got stuck taking care of the creatures when they got sick?”

  “How many guesses do I get?”

  “Do you have any idea what it’s like to have to unclog an impacted bowel on a sixty-five foot long sphinx? You have to crawl in head first into the freaking thing.”

  “Oh, jeez…”

  “That’s a normal hunchback job. In comparison, working for Serene is a walk in the park. Next time you think your life sucks you ponder on that. Now go to sleep before I come over and conk you on the head.”

  “Well, you should have seen me with your panacea snakes facing down that queen squid monster thing. There’s a fairly strong similarity to that and your sphinx story.”

  “I’m not going to warn you again. Sleep. Now.”

  “Um…yeah…anyway…goodnight,” he added.

  Moody turned her back to Alex once more, and following a pause, mumbled, “’Night, little man.”

  Chapter 18- Luminita

  Gregory Isbell happened to be in a fantastic mood. His nightclub was packed to capacity tonight, hundreds of patrons laughing, drinking, gambling, dancing, hemorrhaging money. The rest of the Cosa Nosferatu might be reeling from the aftershocks of that disastrous battle on the streets last night, but the sudden influx of visitors to the city following the debacle turned out to be the best thing to happen for his business in weeks. Additionally, he had seen neither hide nor hair of that damned Cyclops since the unfortunate scuffle in his private office, which of course was the best news of all. Hammett had bigger fish to fry, apparently, and seemed content to leave Isbell alone — until the next time the scum popped in for information. But that would not be for a very long while, no doubt, and tonight, tonight he was going to savor his good fortune. The music streaming from his band pulsed through him like electricity as he glided across the dance floor, and the cocktail he had recently downed made his body feel lighter than air. The sultry, swaying figure before him was the most beautiful brunette he had seen in a month, and she had clearly become head over heels enamored with him. This would be a very, very pleasurable evening, indeed.

  As soon the song came to an end, the last note fading into silence like the wisps of smoke trailing from the many cigars and cigarettes, the band quickly bowed to the clapping audience. Isbell slipped his arm into the woman’s and escorted her across the club toward his corner office. As they worked through the hubbub of the crowd, the band beginning a new song, he whispered in her ear, one of many catalogued and well-rehearsed lines he had made good use of throughout the ages. In response she giggled, an enchanting sound like bubbling champagne, soaking up every flattering syllable with relish. Reaching his office door, Isbell winked at his guard, Chisholm, who stood watch like a stone giant. The brute was still as strong and imposing as ever, even with that large bandage wrapped around his fat head, the aftermath of Vega slamming it onto Isbell’s desk. Chisholm smiled knowingly at his boss, graciously opened the door, and softly closed it behind the couple.

  Isbell led the brunette to his desk. Pulling out his chair, he sat down first and then pulled the woman down so that she sat on his lap. “I have a little special something for you,” he said in his practiced suave tone. Opening a small drawer on his desk he produced a dainty, glimmering necklace with a beautiful scarlet gem dangling from it. She pulled back her thick curls to reveal her feminine neck, and Isbell clasped the jewelry about it. “And I didn’t believe you could possibly become more ravishing,” he said with a hungry smile. “I stand corrected.”

  With his left hand stroking the beauty’s thigh, he leaned forward to kiss her neck…and then stopped abruptly. Something felt…wrong. There was a presence in his office he had not noticed before. His cunning vampire senses had not detected any sight, sound or smell, and yet…he perceived they were not alone. Cautiously he craned his head to the left, his sight directed over the woman’s shoulders toward a corner of his office. There he beheld a dense darkness enveloping a chair. Not a shadow, but something deeper, weightier and more threatening. A great uneasiness enveloping him, Isbell slowly reached toward his drawer again with his right hand, eyes still fixed on the darkness, and felt about for his revolver. The moment his fingers touched their objective he aimed the weapon toward the corner and said commandingly, “I know you’re in here! Show yourself!” The woman gasped in shock and fear, yet her squeal was the only sound to greet his ears. “Don’t think for an instant that I won’t shoot, even in my own club. Show yourself!” Again, silence and darkness. With a jerk Isbell pushed the woman off his lap, stood up, and with his free hand turned on his desk lamp. Light illuminated the corner, and as the vampire’s eyes focused on the figure revealed, his pale face blanched an even lighter shade of white.

  A form wrapped in a long coat and topped with a wide-brimmed hat sat erect and confident in a corner seat. The garments were difficult to make out, though, as if they naturally blended in with their surroundings. In fact, if not for his heightened senses, an individual could easily walk past without noticing the being. At its feet were a pair of thick boots, clean, but much worn from countless leagues of use. The thick blackness refused to reveal the body’s face, though a pair of piercing silver eyes glinted beneath the hat’s brim.

  Isbell lowered his weapon, which tumbled back into the drawer with a thud. “M…my dear, we…we shall have to continue our little visit…ah, some other time.” The woman stumbled to her feet, shock and fear engraved into her previously picturesque face, and without a moment of hesitation, she scurried out of the room. The bodyguard, Chisholm, poked his head through the door with a confused look, but Isbell angrily waved him off as he sat back down in his chair. Hands noticeably shaking, he fumbled about his drawer once more and pulled out a small bottle and a tumbler, after which he began pouring out a thick burgundy liquid in an unsteady gush. The liquid slopped noisily in the glass. Isbell forced a large gulp down and slapped the tumbler back on his desk, his eyes all the while focused squarely on the shadow in the corner. “Care for a drink?” Isbell forced an insincere smile. “No? Very well.” The seething silence was unbearable. “So what brings you all the way out here to New Brasov and my humble establishment?”

  A good many heartbeats passed before a woman’s soft, slithering voice, like a viper, answered, “You know precisely why I have come, Isbell.”

  “I beg your pardon, but I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Once more a long, calculated pause, and then, “Every second you delay me makes your punishment that much more agonizing.”

  “Now wait just a minute here, Luminita,” Isbell began, his words tumbling out over each other, “surely there must be some misunderstanding.”

  “Save your breath. He knows, Isbell…and nothing you say now can change that.” The sound of quality leather creaked as the figure rose from her corner seat and ominously stepped toward the quivering vampire.

  “Listen, I don’t know what you heard…but I didn’t…I didn’t say a thing! Not one word! All of this…this situation has nothing to do with me. I am as shocked and appalled as everyone else.”

  A slender, sinewy arm darted across the desk and a petite set of fingers, blackened with grime, coiled aro
und the vampire’s tongue. “One more falsehood and I will rip out your lying tongue!” the voice hissed venomously. Isbell thrashed backwards in his seat gurgling loudly, but the figure’s other hand shot toward his neck, pinning him in place. “The UEL dog was seen entering your office before dozens of witnesses, and following his hasty retreat from your establishment the New Brasov authorities launched a coordinated attack upon our operatives at the forger’s. Do you honestly believe Lord Constantine so dim?” The hand about the vampire’s tongue was released, but not the grip around his neck. “I suggest you choose your next words more carefully.”

  “You have to believe me. I told the Cyclops nothing. I swear! He tried. Okay? He tried to get information out of me. But he learned nothing from my mouth. What they got…that damned mute partner of his broke into my files! That’s all I know! I said nothing! I give you my oath!”

  “Show me.”

  Hands trembling violently, Isbell proceeded to type in a sequence of keys on his computer. After several moments of extracting files he pointed at the screen emphatically. “See! This is all they had access to. Just the communiqué to all of our operatives on Necrosia’s movements. This same information could have been obtained through a hundred different means.”

  “The Cyclops saw nothing else?”

  “No…nothing important.” Isbell gulped the remainder of his drink, sweat dewing on his forehead. “I’m telling you, this is all he knows. He doesn’t have a clue as to what’s really going on. He wouldn’t be sitting around sulking down at the station if he did. You have to believe me, Luminita. I’m telling the truth! Listen…listen, tell…tell Lord Constantine that I can make it up to him. Tell him…I can atone for my…indiscretion. I’m going to make it up to him. I swear.”