by Deanna Chase
“Excuse me?”
“Sulfur, but burned in the Other Side in order to transport things here.”
“Meaning?”
“They built their own portal.”
“Fuck.”
Father Killarney gave me a chiding look.
“Sorry. Crap.”
He gave me another look.
“I am very upset about this, okay?”
“Perhaps if you weren’t so noticeably absent from Sunday services, you would find other ways to express your dismay.”
“Sister Magdalena, do I really have to put up with this?”
She pulled the last pieces of an industrial strength, evil sucking vacuum out of the case and plugged it into the wall.
“Don’t look at me. I have to put up with him every day,” she said as she snapped a black dust mask over her mouth in punctuation.
“Would you expound on the meaning of the circle?” asked Killian, deflecting the heat for me and getting this party back on track.
Father Killarney nodded, getting out of the way for Sister Magdalena to suck up the runes that had been poured out on the floor.
“Killian, the ability to jump between worlds is a valuable gift and most are not as fortunate as your girlfriend Maggie here.”
“I’m not his girlfriend.”
“It would do you some good, child.”
Killian nodded his head gravely in agreement, “He is a man of God, Maggie...”
“Shut up.”
Father Killarney cleared his throat, “As I was saying, you can jump to this world with various runes and spells. This particular spell was put together with black magic on the Other Side using brimstone to hold the portal open. Once lit, it burns in both dimensions. The trouble, as you know, is that once you are here, it is very difficult to go back.”
I completed his thought, “So if there are vampires jumping over here under the radar, they are permanent guests.”
Father Killarney put a finger to his nose and pointed at me. While I normally would have hoped that this was the universal sign for “we’d make great charade partners”, I knew he meant I was dead on.
“So how long ago do you think they were here working the original spell?”
Father Killarney scratched his beard, “Well, the runes were still fairly fresh. Wind and dust hadn’t blown them too hard, which is fortunate enough. Tracking down sulfur in the cracks and crevasses of a stone floor is one of my least favorite things to do.”
Sister Magdalena lifted her mask, “As if he’s ever the one tracking it down. Father, you can work while you talk.”
He made the sign of the cross, “Forgive her, Father, for she knows not what she does.”
She shook her head and continued to vacuum.
“My professional guess is that they have been squatting in this unholy place no more than a few days,” he said.
I gave a low whistle, “Just a few days, huh?”
“Time is the enemy when you do not wish for people to find out what you are doing.”
“There were a lot of vampires for a couple 24 hour shifts.”
“Perhaps they were here before,” offered Sister Magdalena.
And that’s when I got the heebie-jeebies. I thought to the silver bracelet sitting in the baggie, “And my uncle is tied up in this mess somehow. Why can’t my family just be quiet, law abiding citizens?”
Father Killarney sighed, “To every light there must be a dark. To every yin, a yang. Your uncle’s wicked ways are only a balance to the good of your father.”
“Sibling rivalry must’ve been a bitch.”
He laughed, “Indeed, it was.”
I looked at Father Killarney, “Wait. You knew my uncle?”
“Indeed, I did. I knew him until the day that he turned away from us.”
“What do you think he is up to?” I asked, gazing around at the death and mayhem of a place that should have been filled with light and life.
“I assume he is looking for you.”
“What?” I asked him sharply. “Why would he be looking for me?”
“I assume because you are the only one who can put a stop to this.”
“That’s a random statement to lay on a girl.”
Father Killarney and Killian shared an unspoken, pointed moment and I kind of didn’t want to find out what they were so rudely not telling me.
Killian finally turned to me, “Maggie, I was sent to you to find out why the barrier was weakening. I was told it was because you were the only one who could fix it.” He waved at the mess in the church, “But now, if your uncle is at the root of this matter… Perhaps it is because your blood runs thicker than water.”
“Great,” I said, pressing my palms into my increasingly throbbing temples. “I’m supposed to magically know something about a man that I’d never heard of before a couple days ago and save the world with said information.”
“That’s about the color of things,” said Father Killarney, completely unhelpfully.
“You can fill me in on the guy anytime now,” I pointedly requested.
He gently guided me and Killian to the door, “I will. I promise, child. But this abomination upon holy ground must be sorted out before sundown. Go. Get lunch. Watch some afternoon talk shows. I shall tell you everything this evening.”
Father Killarney was an expert in cleaning up bad magic. He’d seen far worse than what mine eyes had gazed upon, and that was saying something. If he was subtly suggesting that he had to get down to brass tacks, then he needed to get started. I grudgingly decided that I could let him worry about the end of the world for a couple hours.
I hugged him warmly. Father Killarney used to eat at our Sunday night dinners back before all hell had broken loose and we had to move across the boundary. He was one of the good guys. I waved at Sister Magdalena who saluted me farewell with her hose.
Killian and I walked back to the car, picking our way through the dead grass and headstones. Fall didn’t really come to Los Angeles, but every now and again, you’d find a misplaced maple amidst the eucalyptus and palm trees. For some reason, this church featured some stunted oaks to help tell the change between the seasons.
I stood at my car, staring back at the church. Doing nothing for the afternoon just didn’t sit right. I couldn’t let it go.
“Killian? We found out about the funeral from an obituary in the paper. Maybe it’s time to pay a visit to the funeral director…”
Killian gave me a smile.
“Besides,” I said, unlocking the door, “there’s nothing on since they staked Jerry Springer.”
Chapter 18
The funeral home was a white clapboard sided thing with black shutters and a curved driveway. Sort of a grim Georgian rancher left over from the prefab homes of the 1950s. It had a utilitarian, matter-of-factness to it that fit in well with the blue-collar neighborhood.
We walked in the front door. Inside, the industrial carpet was a delightful shade of turquoise green and the place smelled of floral deodorizer.
There was a red door with a slide-y sign in black plastic that read “Director”. I knocked gently and the door swung open.
The director’s desk sat empty.
“No one seems to be home,” I remarked.
We stood in silence for a moment.
“I suppose the polite thing to do would be to wait inside his office for him to return.”
“That seems like the only polite thing,” replied Killian.
“Perhaps you’d like to wait outside the door in case he returns.”
“I think perhaps I would.”
I slipped inside and began searching through the tidily stacked papers on his desk. In his outbox, I found an invoice for yesterday’s service. I didn’t want to screw over the guy. I know what a pain it is when you’re sure you left an important paper somewhere, so I just copied down the billing information and then slipped back out into the hall.
“Did you see him?”
“Not a soul,
” said Killian.
We stood there for a few more moments.
“This is strange, isn’t it? Just that the door would be open, his office would be open, and no one would be here…” I got that old heebie-jeebie feeling again, “We have to go down and check the mortuary, don’t we?”
I could see Killian didn’t like it any more than me, “Yes, I believe we do.”
“Crap.”
I unholstered my gun and palmed a stake. We walked to the end of the hall and pressed the elevator button going down.
The doors opened with a ding.
We exited into a white morgue, cold storage lockers fitted into the walls.
“You as creeped out as I am?” I asked.
“Yes,” he replied.
All the lights were on, but no one appeared to be home.
I walked over to the first locker and pulled on the handle. It was locked, but I didn’t see a keyhole.
“I can’t open it.”
Killian came over and had no more luck than I did on any of the units.
“Well,” I said. “It appears to be a dead end.” I looked over at Killian, “I am COMPLETELY okay with that.”
“As am I,” he said, his shoulders relaxing below his earlobes for the first time since we came into the basement.
“I guess we do have an afternoon free to fill up with bad talk shows after all.”
“It sounds more appealing with each passing moment.”
We started walking towards the elevator and, out of my little green energy habit, I flipped the lights off.
And that was when I heard every single one of those sixteen cold storage lockers open at once and the sound of sixteen tray tables slide out.
“Fuck!”
I flipped on the light.
Sitting up in each of the tray tables was a dead person. Except, not dead anymore. Vampires. Young, hungry vampires. Older vampires have a little more wisdom and maturity to their undead years. The young ones were missing basic table manners, like, “Don’t eat your guests.”
In unison, they hissed and then were coming at us.
I banged at the “up” button but the elevator door was not opening. I swung around and caught a vamp with my stake as I grabbed a scalpel from a table and plunged it into the heart of another.
“Killian, there are too many of them!”
I grabbed Killian and we ran up the steps of the emergency exit. I sure wished the fire marshal had a nice little “in case of vampire attack, break glass” box, but we were on our own. I fired off a round and it connected with something that was coming at us fast.
We ran out onto the first floor, tore down the hall, and made it outside into the safety of daylight.
“WHAT THE FUCK??!” I shouted, breathing heavily.
Killian looked at his arm. He had a scrape that was bleeding pretty good. I brought him over to the car and pulled out a first aid kit, “They get you?”
He shook his head, “I am merely grazed.”
I got him wrapped up and gave him a sympathetic pat.
Then, I pulled out a tourniquet tube from the kit and popped open my gas tank. After a quick search around the back of the building, I found a watering can that the gardener forgot to put away. Probably because something tried to eat him.
The surgeon general warns not to do this, but with a couple sucks, I had the gas flowing through the tube into the watering can at a steady rate. Thank god I filled up before we left. I carried the can over to the funeral home and sprinkled it everywhere I could find. I then took out a match and flicked it at the building.
It went up like a roman candle.
Killian stood next to me as we watched the place burn down like the Atlanta scene in Gone with the Wind, “We should probably leave before we’re spotted.”
“Let’s hope the South doesn’t rise again,” I replied.
Chapter 19
We drove the car off the top of Mulholland drive and back into the Other Side with a thump. I wound my way through the cobblestone streets to the police station.
I walked into the holding office and plunked the baggy full of drippy clothes on Lacy’s desk.
“Sorry, I’m afraid I caught him more dead than alive.”
She gave me a heavy sigh, “Do you know the extra paperwork this is going to cause me?”
“That’s why they pay you the big bucks, Lacy.”
She got up and sashayed her way over to the register to fill out my proof of vanished-but-still-taken-care-of corpse delivery.
“Hey, Lacy?” I asked.
“Hmm?” she replied.
“Any word on weird stuff going on with the vampires?”
She ripped out the receipt and brought it over to me, “You been living under a rock?”
“Evidently. What’s going on?”
“New leader just took over. Something about promises to unite them and restore them to a position of pride and dignity. Blah blah blah.”
“Huh. So who is this leader?”
“Vampires aren’t too forthcoming about giving names and, personally, I try not to spend too much time in their company,” she said as she placed a meaningful blue finger on my shoulder.
“Lacy, when did you get shy?” I replied. “You’ve always been my ear to the ground. My person-in-the-know. My go-to-hell gal. I need you to live on the edge.”
She grabbed a stack of papers and plunked them in front of me, “And I need you to fill all this out in triplicate and return it to me by close-of-business Friday.”
Lacy sure knew how to ruin a gal’s day. I should have let those vampires turn me. I wouldn’t have to fill out the twenty-page Form 168A staring up at me.
Lacy leaned her elbows on her desk, “Listen, you didn’t hear it from me, but you should head down to the Wagon and Cock. They always seem to know what’s going on.”
“Thanks, Lacy. What would I do without you?”
“Die.”
“That’s about right.”
I stepped into the car and turned on the engine.
“Any good word?” asked Killian.
“Got a nice little lead,” I replied. “How about you let me buy you a drink?”
Chapter 20
The Wagon and Cock was a tavern down by the waterfront. It had a rougher element, but you don’t find out what’s going on in the seedy underbelly of a city by hanging out at debutante balls.
That said, I made sure I was fully armed before going inside. I popped open my glove compartment and handed Killian a Glock.
“I do not use guns.”
“Who said it was for you?”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Listen, some ladies make men carry their purses. All I’m asking is for you to carry my extra gun.”
He watched as a six armed sailor lit up three cigars and leaned against the light pole outside the pub, puffing each cigar in turn.
“Rough crowd?”
“You could strike a match off their aura.”
I slammed the last cartridge into place and tucked my own firearm into the top of my boot.
“Alrighty, then. Let’s do this.”
Heads turned as I walked into the pub and then went back to drowning their sorrows in the depths of their grog. I walked up to the bar and gave the bartender a nice down payment on his vacation home.
“This round’s on me!” I announced.
Instantly, the entire place was filled with my best friends. Showy? Yes. But muddled heads loosened tongues, and that’s what I needed.
I turned to the bar keeper as he tried to hand me some change, “Keep it. Actually, keep it and here’s some more for that entire bottle you’ve got there on the top shelf.”
He gave me a grunt and handed over something that would put hair on the chest of a two year old, and turned back to his duties.
Obstacle one hurdled.
I slid over to a solitary fellow who looked a bit anemic.
“Had a bit of good luck and I hate drinking alone. Mind if I joined you
?” I asked.
He eyed Killian, “Looks like you have more than enough to drink with.”
I topped off his half filled glass and poured myself a shot, “He keeps to the nectar and that’s not quite my idea of a celebration, if you know what I mean.”
The fellow lifted his glass and clinked it to my own.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Pour me another and I’ll tell you.”
“You’re my kind of fellow.”
The thing about drinking with a guy like this is that you’ve got to take the first couple shots for the team, but still make sure to keep a clear enough head to not get yourself killed. Killian was my backup plan. The Wagon and Cock wasn’t a place for getting sloppy. I had a few too many enemies this side of the boundary to let my guard down too much.
“My name is Lars.”
“Nice enough name, Lars. I’m Maggie.”
We shook hands and I poured us both another. I let him throw his back while I spilled mine down my front.
“What’s your line of business?” I asked.
“Little of this. Little of that. You?”
“I am a merchant,” I lied, “specializing in multi-world transportation of sensitive objects.”
“From the way you’re spreading money around, I’d fancy you’re doing well for yourself.”
“I keep a roof over my head.”
An accordion player struck up a tune in the corner. The fact accordion players existed in one world, much less two, was a cruel and unusual punishment, I felt, but Lars seemed to enjoy the music and it covered over the awkward moments in our conversation a bit.
“It’s the strangest thing,” I said. “Business has been dropping off. I heard there are some new portals opening up between the worlds.”
“Can’t say I’ve heard of anything.”
“Huh. Something about a new head of the vampires?”
“That information, missy,” Lars said as he rose from the table, “is worth more than the expensive bottle you’ve got held in your hands there.”
I rose and met his blurry eyes. Sometimes you have to ask nice. And sometimes you have to let people know that your breasts aren’t going to get in the way of you kicking their ass.
“Seems funny a big strong man like yourself is running scared. I just asked a simple question.”
“Your simple question gets a person like me killed.”
