The Falstaff Vampire Files

by Lynne Murray

  “We have reason to believe that you are responsible for an infestation of alien vampires into the San Francisco area. We need to ask you some questions about that.”

  I wondered if they could tell that my guts clenched up like a fist. I waited for a couple of long breaths. Took a few breaths. I didn’t see any evidence that they were breathing. “You say you’re a federal agency, but I’ve never heard of a vampire branch of the government.”

  Agent Fowler smiled. “We’re not listed in any official directory. But many secret services could make that same statement. We report to a different authority, but we are just as real as they are. Secrecy insures that we are free to get information in any way we choose. Answer the question, Mr. Roy.”

  “I think I need to call my lawyer.”

  “Edgar Morford?” This time when he smiled I saw the fangs. “He is one of us. He knows we’re here. He knows what you did.” His eyes were cold as black stones.

  “Mr. Morford is worrying about saving his own skin at this point,” Agent Park said.

  An icy shiver went down my spine.

  “We’d like you to come in with us now. We have some questions.”

  “Much as I’d like to help you boys out, it’s late and I have appointments first thing in the morning.”

  “Not anymore. We’ve cleared your schedule,” Agent Fowler said. “Cooperating with us just might result in your survival.”

  I went with them. Didn’t have a choice, really. They seemed to know about the Others in general terms—they just wanted all the details. The first night I answered hundreds of questions. One thing they didn’t ask was why I did it. Maybe it didn’t matter anymore.

  Chapter 61

  Mina Murray’s journal

  red digital voice recorder

  August 27th

  I packed my overnight bag and some clothes in a shoulder bag. As I faced the door I wrapped a scarf around my head, as if that could shield my eyes.

  “Don’t look at them,” I kept repeating as I headed out the door, car key in hand. They bounced along, swarming around but never quite touching me. I looked at the ground. When I got to the car, I slipped in and slammed the door, half expecting them to try to get in as well, but they did not.

  I started the engine and suddenly my windshield was full of gray bodies, massing around the outside of the car, staring in. I made it a point to look anywhere but in their eyes, peering out between the arms and legs and faces that writhed around the car.

  None of the other cars on Geary noticed the swarm that covered my car. Clement Street was crowded, but people going to and from the restaurants gave no sign that they saw a horde of red-eyed monsters closing ranks around me when I parked the car, got out and started walking down the sidewalk.

  The gray things followed as I walked. I looked at the pavement, ignoring them, peering between their bodies as I slowly made my way to ring the buzzer at Kristin’s gate.

  Chapter 62

  Kristin Marlowe’s typed notes

  August 27th

  I brought the phone into the front part of the house and looked out the window, careful to look between the creatures that swarmed over Vi’s house and the cottage. Vi stood at the window. Did her eyes have a faint red tinge, or was that my imagination?

  “Be careful, Kris.”

  “Don’t worry. I called Morford and he told me you should have learned how to protect yourself.”

  “I’m learning. But Morford doesn’t know they killed me.”

  I hesitated. “I told him about those things, but not about how you met them before you died.”

  There was a long pause. “Maybe it was . . . a bad idea to tell him.”

  “Someone has got to help us. Sir John has done a disappearing act. Morford said he’d be in touch.”

  “I got your note about the trap. I’m staying in tonight to protect the girl cats. Please trap them and bring them to your place tomorrow. I’m sorry to ask, but it’s too dangerous here.”

  “I’ll do it. Don’t worry.”

  “I don’t know how long I can hold out.” She hung up. It was full dark now, and the red in her eyes was bright as neon. Why hadn’t I seen it before?

  There was a spark of red behind her. She did not turn. But over her shoulder I could see the impassive face and round red eyes of one of the Others.

  They were in the house with Vi now.

  I jumped at the sound of the front gate buzzer.

  As it buzzed, my phone rang again. I answered the phone first, thinking it might be Vi.

  It was Mina. “Kristin, I’m at your gate. I’m in trouble. Please buzz me in.”

  After I pressed the button to open the gate, I watched her carefully pull it closed behind her. It would have swung closed, but I was glad to hear it click shut.

  Mina walked down the path with her head bent down, as if dodging a heavy rainstorm.

  “Hi.” I opened the door and pulled her in without ceremony, terrified that inviting her in would bring in the Others.

  She didn’t hesitate. The minute I closed the door we looked at each other. I almost didn’t have to ask. “Do you—?”

  “You see them too, don’t you?” She looked around, her eyes settling on the duct tape.

  I sighed with relief. “Yes, I do.”

  “Hal’s house is covered with them. They followed me to my apartment and then here.”

  “Let’s go in the office. We can talk there.”

  Mina laughed a shaky laugh. “You’re right. It would make me feel safer not to see them, even though I know they’re out there.”

  We instinctively took our places as if for a therapy session, myself in my chair, Mina on the sofa, but this time both of us were sitting forward, leaning close. Her fear had come home to inhabit me. “What can we do, Kris?”

  I was still clutching my cell phone. “I’m going to try calling for help.”

  “Who could help?”

  “Maybe the local vampire organization.”

  “Wow, Kris. When I first told you, I wasn’t sure you even believed me about the vampires. Now you’ve got their phone number.”

  “It seems like forever ago.” We both laughed. “I just hope they’ll help us.”

  Morford answered the phone on the first ring. “Edgar, it’s Kristin. I spoke to Vi earlier. She was bit by the Others before Sir John brought her over. She’s afraid they might get into her house.”

  “Is she planning to invite them in?”

  “No! Of course not. But I think you should help us.”

  “What you’ve told me indicates that our contract may have been breached, and we may be forced to terminate our arrangement.”

  “Thank you so much—I’m glad to hear that your first priority is your contract. If you just let them kill us, won’t they come for you next?”

  “You are most persuasive.” Morford’s voice was cold as dry ice. “We have one expert on this. It’s too late to reach him tonight. I will speak to him tomorrow night. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you both.”

  “How about some ideas about how to survive this night?”

  “I’ve told you as much as I know. All vampires can see these creatures, but we cultivate mental skills to remove our attention from them. Some vampire-bitten humans see them and feed them, and then it is very hard to eradicate them. I have never seen a horde so large as you describe. This is most—disturbing. We will be in touch tomorrow night. Distract yourself till dawn, don’t go near them, and try not to talk or think about them too much. It makes them stronger.”

  “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow night then—assuming we’re still alive. Do you know how to contact Sir John?”

  “You would know that better than I, since he fed from you.”

  “How would you suggest—hello?” I put the phone down and looked at Mina. “The bloodsucking bastard hung up on me.”

  Mina laughed. “I’ve never heard you swear.”

  “I’m having a bad night.”

  She laughed
again. “Me too.” Then her face grew solemn.

  “You might want to wait here. I want to check on my friend.” I approached the window cautiously, unpeeled the tape and peeked around the corner of the curtain. The mass of Others who covered Vi’s house were seething, concentrating on windows and doors. Could they really get in? The windows had a rosy glow that seemed as if lit by a red light bulb. I didn’t like the look of that.

  A couple of Others popped up on the other side of my window glass, and smacked gently at the window.

  I slammed the curtain shut, resealed the duct tape and turned my back on them. Back in the office, I closed the door behind me firmly.

  “They can’t seem to get in,” I reported.

  “Yet,” she added. “They’re like that at Hal’s, and then they followed me home.” She leaned back languidly. “I wonder if they followed Hal’s jet to DC.” She seemed almost entertained by the prospect.

  The phone rang. I sighed and answered.

  “Kris, it’s Bram Van Helsing.”

  “It’s a friend who might help us,” I said. “Hang on, Bram.” Mina nodded, but she seemed to be half asleep already. “Feel free to nap on the couch, Mina. I’ll take it this call in the other room.”

  I sat down in the kitchen with my back to the window.

  “Larry told me what you’re fighting—or as he put it, hallucinating,” Bram said. “I’m coming over.”

  “I didn’t know you were in town.”

  “I just got in. I didn’t want to show up on Larry’s doorstep unannounced, so I got a hotel room over on Van Ness. Then I found that message from Larry on my voicemail. You should have called me, Kris.”

  “You’re right, I should have—not that there’s much you could do from Arizona, or even here. You may not be able to see these things, Bram. Some people can, some people can’t. Larry couldn’t.”

  “Well, I did some research and I have a weapon. I don’t know if it will work.”

  “Mina is here with me. She can see these things too, which makes me feel a lot saner, even though we’re both scared. I think we should sleep.”

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  “Yes. Come before sunset. Maybe they won’t even show up and we can all go out to dinner.”

  Bram’s voice was gentle. “Either way, we’ll be ready.”

  Neither of us believed it was over.

  Mina had fallen asleep on the client couch. I brought her a pillow and spread a blanket over her and went to my bedroom. Even with the heavy curtains over the windows, flickers of red danced under the door and behind the curtains. I must have slept, because I dreamed, and the dreams were almost as bad as the reality.

  Chapter 63

  Kristin Marlowe’s typed notes

  August 28th

  In the gray dawn I put out some dry food for Vi’s cats, who were still hiding. I passed by the door of my office and heard faint snoring as Mina slept. I got myself a cup of coffee and fed the ferals in the garden where they sat waiting patiently in the usual spot.

  Then I had to face Vi’s house. It seemed deserted. No signs of damage. I had no idea what it would look like if the Others had killed Vi permanently.

  It was the first time I had been down in the cellar since the coffin was installed. My heart beat faster with each step down the stairs. The cellar was the same, the coffin on its stand. Vi had not brought the computer down here. Her note to me had been handwritten. She had not written a word on her book in progress since she became a vampire, so far as I could tell.

  I raised the coffin lid a little and looked in to see Vi in the same dead condition that Sir John had demonstrated on his first night in Vi’s house. Only Vi looked more gray than waxy pale.

  The harsh front door buzzer startled me. I dropped the coffin lid with a crash. I apologized to Vi—not sure whether she could hear it or not. I went upstairs, sighing in relief to close the basement door. The buzzer sounded again.

  On the front steps stood Pamela, the unofficial head of the unofficial feral feeding group, holding a long narrow steel mesh contraption by a suitcase-style handle on top. “I brought the humane trap,” she said. In the other hand she held some supermarket shopping bags. I let her in.

  “Thanks for loaning me this. Vi told me not to feed the ferals before trapping them.”

  “Vi told you?” She looked at me oddly.

  Oops.

  “I helped her trap them the first time, and then again to go to the vet to be spayed.”

  “Oh, of course. It’s good that you’ve got some experience.”

  Pamela had clearly been in the place before, because she talked as she walked straight back to the kitchen. I followed her. She put her bags on the table. “I know everyone’s bringing you food, but these are from the farmers’ market—apples, grapes, lettuce, onions and potatoes.” She glanced around. “Didn’t Vi feed the cats here?”

  “We’ve got repairmen coming in, so I took all the tame cats next door,” I said, improvising. “I don’t want these girls sneaking out and going feral again.”

  Pamela nodded approvingly. “Let me show you how to set this up.”

  Once I had demonstrated to her satisfaction that I could open and prop the trap door, set the triggering device and reset it when it sprang, she sat back on her heels—she was very limber for a woman in her sixties.

  “Did you know that Violet wrote vampire fiction?”

  Pamela smiled. “I heard that, but I haven’t read any of her books.”

  “Would you like a copy? I’m sure she’d want you to have one.”

  Pamela nodded, and followed me into the front room. It looked forlorn, although the furniture was still in place. She went directly to the mantelpiece to look at the portraits—and ashes. I explained that those were cats that had died.

  “Maybe they’re together now.”

  I looked at her sharply. Oh, she meant in the afterlife.

  “She really liked black cats. I used to tease her that those looked like pictures of the same cat. So she would give me the rundown on how Othello loved to drink honeydew melon juice, Ophelia was a pure-bred Persian who liked her tummy rubbed, and Portia was a tiny, half-Siamese who ruled the household with an iron paw.”

  Pamela examined the pictures solemnly. “Vi was an amazing woman.”

  I felt guilty deceiving Pamela, who seemed like such a nice person. But I couldn’t imagine telling her what really happened. “Vi always wondered why all the vampires in books look like teenaged underwear models.”

  “Maybe old women can recognize a deal with the devil when they see it. Or maybe the vampires are too afraid of us.”

  We both laughed. “I like that idea. Thanks for listening to me,” I said as she got up to go.

  She gave me a hug. “Call if you have any problems with the cats. When you’re finished with the trap I’ll come get it.”

  She left the bags of produce on the kitchen counter with instructions not to store the onions and potatoes next to each other, because the fumes from the onions would make the potatoes rot. Or maybe that was vice versa. My kitchen chemistry comes back to me in fits and starts.

  After she left, I put out a teaspoon of food on a small paper plate inside the trap and went to take the groceries Pamela had brought over to the cottage. Mina was taking a shower.

  I left her a note to help herself to anything she wanted, and went back to Vi’s.

  The cat food in the cage had been consumed. I put down another teaspoon, and this time when I left the room I watched from behind the door. It took a few minutes, but Lady Macbeth, a chubby silver and gray striped cat, sneaked out from a hiding place behind the stove. Her daughter, Juliet, followed, crouching down cautiously. Lean and long, with a lovely dark marbled coat, she pressed up as close as possible to her mother for safety, and lashed her long, fluffy tail anxiously.

  After they went into the cage together and ate every molecule of food, they wandered out, retreating from the room when I went in to put more food in. On the third te
aspoon of food, I sprang the trap. Lady Macbeth stood up instantly and started to try to back out. Not possible. The cage door was solidly shut. Juliet began throwing herself at the sides of the cage. I dropped a blanket over it as Pamela had instructed, and sent a silent prayer of thanks to whatever angels watch over feral cats.

  I hefted the cage in both hands out of the house and across the way to the cottage. The metal mesh shook in my hands, but neither cat made a sound. Vi told me that ferals don’t cry because they did not expect rescue. They would escape by any means possible, but they would not risk drawing attention by making noise. To them, I was the predator.

  I put the cage down in the bathroom and set up the litter box, food and water. Then I opened the cage and left, closing the door. I heard some thumps and thuds and when I next went into the bathroom, both cats had discovered the linen closet and hunkered down there, hissing when I peeked in the door. For the moment the bathroom would be their new home.

  My office door was open, the blanket had been neatly folded on the sofa, and a note from Mina said she had gone to work, but would like to come back afterward.

  I called her at work. “I had to get out and do something,” she said. “I’ll be back before dusk.”

  Chapter 64

  Sir John Falstaff’s words

  on black digital recorder, undated

  Death seeks me that onetime did flee from me.

  Again adrift. Walking, the midnight streets, the Others surge in stronger numbers.

  Too close, too close by half. New dangers from my lovely prey. Last night when I rose, I came across my new hostess dragging my old greatcoat out of my box to be cleaned. Disaster!

  She said t’was dusty. Indeed it is, as befits a grave.

  No, never wash that coat. The coat holds more than secrets.

  It was not always so. I found the coat in some European battlefield, its owner dead. Now my cherished grave dust lines its secret pockets. That soil engrained in every fiber holds me to this world. My old coat holds the dirt that’s irreplaceable for such as me that live by moonlight. Not much of it. I’ve outlived many graves and often need to travel light. Many’s the time that coat and a length of good old velvet were all that stood between me and the killing sun of the day. Wash that coat and wash me away.