Agent Truesdale paused in unlocking the door and sneered at me but didn’t rise to the bait. He finished unlocking the door and walked in, pulling the cord on a bare bulb. The light flickered, then shone brightly to illuminate a small metal desk pushed against one wall, a filing cabinet, and several shelves holding cleaning supplies. There was one chair, next to the desk, which Agent Truesdale wedged himself into. I stood in the doorway and Agent Wright squeezed past me, closing the door behind him and then taking a seat on the edge of the desk.
“How the hell did you guys get all this stuff in here?” I asked. With the furniture, shelves, and the three of us, we were packed in like sardines.
Truesdale ignored my question, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. Agent Wright did say something, but not to answer my question. “We thought we had an agreement, Mr. Imbierowicz.” He sounded so formal, so bureaucratic. “We thought you were going to help us out. Now you’ve put yourself in a really bad position.”
“What do you mean?” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself. I knew what they meant—why hadn’t I called them when Moira had shown up?
“Stuff that shit up your ass,” Truesdale said around his cigar. “You know what Christian is talking about. You were with your dame today, there’s no sense in denying it. So why didn’t you call us?”
I leaned my head back against the door and sighed. Why can’t anything go my way these days? “Yeah, I saw Moira today. She was waiting for me at my place when I got off my shift. I wanted to call you, honestly, but Moira said she didn’t want to talk to you two putzes. She hung around for part of the morning, then left.” I kept it as short as I could and I didn’t want them to know that we’d gone to see Al Capone, or that Bugs Moran had shown up. I should have known better than to keep something from these two.
“Who did you go see?” asked Agent Wright. He was leaning forward on the edge of the desk, eager to hear my answer. Apparently they’d been watching my place when we left to go visit Capone.
“Look,” I said, avoiding the question. “I still don’t know why you guys want to talk to Moira. Why is she so important?” I was beginning to think I knew why, but I wanted to hear it from these two.
“It should be enough for you to know that she is important to us,” said Truesdale. “Who did she take you to meet?”
“No,” I said. I was getting either really brave, or, as I could see the expression on Truesdale’s face, really stupid. “I won’t tell you until I know why you want her.”
“Why are you protecting that hell-spawned bitch?” I was a bit stunned as the question came from Agent Wright. He had always seemed so clean-cut.
“Don’t you call her that,” I nearly shouted. “You don’t know anything about her.”
“No,” Agent Wright stood up from the desk. The small confines of the closet meant that he was standing chest-to-chest with me. He poked a finger under my nose. “You’re the one who doesn’t know anything about her. She’s been playing you for a fool since the first day you met her. You have no idea what you are dealing with.” I had never seen Agent Wright so indignant.
A part of me seemed to remember my anger at learning that she’d been using me as Capone’s pawn, but I was surprised that these two knew that. I was also a bit stunned by Agent Wright’s vehemence. I expected this kind of attitude from Truesdale, but not from Wright. I gave a glance at Agent Truesdale, who seemed to be getting a laugh at my expense.
“Christian,” he said, blowing out a cloud of blue-grey smoke. “Maybe you should explain to Saul just what it is that we are dealing with here.”
Agent Wright relaxed a bit and looked at Truesdale. He seemed to consider it for a moment, then resignedly nodded his head. He sat back down on the desk, brushing down his pants as he sat.
“Mr. Imbierowicz, what do you know about vampires?”
Chapter 23
“Vampires!” I laughed. “You mean like Count Dracula?” I had read Bram Stoker’s novel when I was in high school. I shook my head and continued to laugh. “Now I know you guys are crazy. You two actually think Moira is a vampire?”
Truesdale just sat there, staring at me, blowing smoke from his cigar.
Agent Wright said, “Yes, we do.” He sounded serious.
“Oh, come on,” I exclaimed. “I read Dracula in high school. Aren’t vampires supposed to sleep during the day in coffins and are afraid of the light and stuff like that? Moira and I have been together plenty of times during the day and she’s never been afraid of the sun.”
“And just how much sun is there in Chicago during the winter?” Truesdale asked. He had a point, but I wasn’t going to acknowledge it.
“Look, Mr. Imbierowicz—Saul,” Agent Wright sounded sympathetic. “We know enough about vampires to know that not everything in the stories and legends are true. But you need to believe us, they are real, and they are a growing threat to us.”
“What?” I let the incredulity fill my words. “Are they’re going to overthrow the entire human race, or are we just worried about Chicago and the next city election?”
Agent Wright ignored my comment and opened a drawer in the desk, pulling out a well-worn and aged book. I could see the words ‘Holy Bible, King James Version’ printed in fading gold leaf on the spine. Agent Wright opened the book to a spot already bookmarked. He read aloud, “’There is a generation that curseth their father, and doth not bless their mother. There is a generation that are pure in their own eyes, and yet is not washed from their filthiness. There is a generation, O how lofty are their eyes! And their eyelids are lifted up. There is a generation, whose teeth are as swords, and their jaw teeth as knives, to devour the poor from the earth, and the needy from among men’, Proverbs chapter 30, verses eleven to fourteen.”
Agent Wright closed the book solemnly and looked at me, a smug smile on his face, like he’d just proven some grand theorem in school.
“So you have some writings in a holy book that could mean anything,” I said. I smiled as Agent Wright bristled a bit. “There are tons of stories my Rabbi told us about Lilith or Estrie or other ‘demons’,” I held up both of my hands, my first two fingers twitching up and down, “who go around eating babies and drinking blood. Big deal.”
“But don’t you see?” exclaimed Agent Wright. “The fact that descriptions of these creatures appear in so many holy texts, and in legends around the world, means that they have to be true. How else do you explain how so many people separated around the world came up with legends of similar creatures? The lamia in Ancient Greece, the vetalas in India, or the jiangshi in China. These creatures have existed since the Creation. My research—and that of others—suggests that vampires and other demons are the unholy spawn of Adam and Lilith after Adam and Eve were expelled from the Garden of Eden.”
I stared at Agent Wright, then looked at Truesdale. “Don’t tell me you believe this bullshit?”
“Son,” Truesdale pulled the cigar from his mouth. “I’m not sure I fully believe Christian’s take on these creatures, but this is a free country and he can believe what he wants. What I do know I have seen with my own eyes. During the war, there were rumors that men from both sides who had deserted their posts had fled into no-man’s land. They survived by attacking other men and drinking their blood and eating them. Since the war, I have seen men attack other men, biting their victims and drinking their blood. I’ve seen men who were shot and not fall dead, continuing to move as if nothing had happened.”
He knocked some ash from the cigar and gave me a cold stare. “I’ve seen men move so fast that they seem to disappear from one spot and reappear in another. And I’ve even seen a scrawny stick of a man—somebody no bigger than Christian here—lift somebody twice his weight off the floor by one hand. So yeah, I believe in these creatures.”
My thoughts immediately went to my encounter with Mr. Brown on Sunday. “And what, the Government has you hun
ting them down? Some kind of vampire hit squad? And you think Moira is one of these vampires. Are you going to kill her?”
“Eventually,” said Agent Truesdale evenly. “But for now, we just want to talk with her. See, we know very little about vampires...”
“We know they must feed on human flesh and blood to survive,” interrupted Agent Wright. “They can control people with their minds and force them to do their bidding. My research also suggests that they can change forms and control animals. They are not afraid, or hurt by, sunlight, but they are fearful of holy relics and strong faith, and can be hurt by blessed objects. To kill them you have to either stab them through the heart with a wooden stake or cut off their head.”
“What, no fear of garlic?” I asked with a sneer. Agent Wright just glared at me.
“Despite what Agent Wright just said,” continued Truesdale, “we still know damn little about them. See, what we have learned has come from piecing together bits here and there from folks who have been interrogated or from documents we’ve managed to find. One of the things we have learned is that the vampires seem to be infiltrating the gangs across the country, using the chaos and violence with the bootlegging and gang wars to get positions of power within the gangs. That’s something the government cannot allow.
“We think your girlfriend might be a vampire, and that she might have a connection with a gang.” Boy, was he right there. Moira seemed to have connections to two of the biggest gangs in Chicago! “We need to talk to her to find out what she knows. We have learned that she was turned into a vampire by somebody of power, and we want to know who this person is.”
“You think Al Capone is a vampire?” I blurted out. The thought was so funny on the face of it that I couldn’t help myself. The two agents stared at me, then exchanged a glance with each other.
“Why would Al Capone be a vampire?” asked Agent Truesdale. His stare bored into me.
I tried to ignore him, but it was so unnerving that I finally said, “Well....I mean....” Damn. I’d certainly put my foot in it there. I sighed. “That’s who Moira took me to see today. Al Capone.”
“Wait,” said Agent Wright. “Al Capone is in Florida. I read that in the papers. Are you saying he’s here in Chicago?”
“Yes. Look, I didn’t know Moira knew Capone or anything until today. Like I said, she was waiting for me at my apartment when I got off work. We took a cab down to Capone’s house south of town.”
“What did you guys talk about?” asked Agent Wright.
“Oh, the weather, how bad the Blackhawks are, you know, the usual.” The two agents just looked at me blankly. “Fine. Capone wants me to steal some books you Feds have.” The two Agents gave me another blank look. “I thought it was you two who had them, but if you are the Government’s fearless vampire killers, then I guess it’s some other Federal agency that has the books.”
“What are you talkin’ about, son?” Truesdale asked.
“Apparently there was a police raid a few weeks ago on some gambling joint run by Capone. During the raid, the cops found a set of books that can be linked to Ralph Capone. The cops took the books and gave them to the Feds. Everybody seems to think that they might have evidence in them that could link Al Capone to all sorts of stuff and he wants them back. He’s threatened to kill my family if I don’t get the books for him, and since he and Bugs Moran both want the books...”
“Wait, Bugs Moran also wants the books?” asked Agent Wright.
“Yeah. I met him last week right after the massacre and he told me to steal the books for him. He also threatened my family.”
Agent Truesdale gave a low whistle. “Boy, you are screwed.” He chuckled as I glared at him. He held up a hand in a placating gesture. “Look, kid, we can protect your family from both of those goons, but only if you promise to help us out. If you’re right and Moira is working for Al Capone, that makes things very interesting. Agent Wright and I need to discuss some things.” Agent Truesdale stood up.
I looked from him to Agent Wright, and my mind was reeling from everything they had told me. The thought crossed my mind from earlier in the day about Moira also working with Moran on something, but I figured that things were complicated enough, so I kept quiet. One thing was bothering me though, and I self-consciously rubbed the spot where Moira had bitten me. “Agent Wright, how is a vampire created?”
“The vampire has to feed on a person at the neck over a period of a couple of days and also has to share their blood with the victim. Then, the person is turned into one of those godless filth.” He gave me a glance, his eyes obviously looking at my neck for bite marks. I relaxed a little bit.
Agent Truesdale moved to open the door, handing me a card with a phone number on it. “If anything happens, call us at this number. Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Imbierowicz.”
Chapter 24
After leaving the two Agents, I returned to the mail room in a bit of a daze. I finished the rest of my shift mechanically, not really seeing what I was doing. Joe tried to get me to spill the beans on what the Feds had wanted, but I refused to say anything. That pissed Joe off, and he was mad at me for the rest of the shift.
When we got off work, I didn’t bother to get breakfast at the diner. Instead, I headed out into the cold morning air. Everything looked different to me now. I glanced at people heading to work and I kept wondering if any of them might be vampires. How can you tell? If what Agents Truesdale and Wright had said was true, that Moira was a vampire, then anybody could be one. Moira was just a normal girl. She was attractive and fun to be around. Nothing about her manner suggested that she was anything different—except for how she had bitten me when we were making love. Despite Agent Wright’s reassurance I was still worried about that. He seemed to know a lot about vampires, but certainly he didn’t know everything. What if he was wrong about how a vampire was made? What if I was already turning into one and didn’t know it? My skin began to crawl as I thought about it. Man, what would Mom say if she found out? I heard Mom’s voice in my head, “What, it’s not good enough for you to be a good Jewish boy, you had to run off and become one of the living dead? What kind of son would do that to his mother?”
I climbed the steps to the L and waited for the morning train. I kept glancing around, sure that people were staring at me like I was growing fangs and was going to attack everybody there. I shuffled away from the people on the platform, found a quiet seat on the train when it arrived, and generally avoided everybody as the train jostled along the tracks to my stop.
The sun was shining weakly as I climbed the steps to my tenement. I saw Mrs. Rabinowitz checking her mail as I walked in. Had I kept quiet, she might not have noticed me, but my mother had raised me to be polite.
“Good morning, Mrs. R,” I said in greeting.
She looked up from the mail box, a hand held to her chest. “Oh, goodness! You startled me, Saul. You are as quiet as the dead.”
I flinched at her words but managed to smile, “I’m sorry, Mrs. R. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
She waved a hand dismissively. “That’s all right, dear. I must have been absorbed in my own thoughts.” She pulled out her mail and closed the box. A few letters fell to the floor and I walked over to help pick them up.
“Why do we get so many ads in the mail?” she asked wearily. I noticed that over half of her letters were advertising fliers and letters.
“I don’t know, Mrs. R,” I said. That was a small lie; I knew it was really cheap for businesses to send out ads directly to people. Hell, most of the mail I sorted was direct mail fliers and stuff.
“Well, can’t you do something about it? It’s all just so much junk.”
I handed the letters back to her. “I’m sorry, Mrs. R., I just sort the mail.” I turned and started up the stairs.
“Did you ever get that second lock for your door?” Mrs. Rabinowitz called after me.
&nb
sp; “Not yet, Mrs. R. I will today,” I lied as I continued up the stairs. I didn’t want to have yet another conversation about my door with Mrs. Rabinowitz. I walked up the steps to my apartment and tried to open the door, but it was firmly locked. I was surprised. I had gotten so used to coming home and finding somebody in my kitchen that I had sort of expected it to be open. I unlocked the door and went in, hanging my coat on the back of a chair. I pulled out Agent Truesdale’s card and held it a moment, flicking its edge with one finger. I wondered if I should have told them more about what Moira and Moran had said to each other but, since I didn’t really know what was going on, how could I make them understand? I shrugged and tossed the card onto the table. I was not hungry, so I didn’t bother with fixing anything to eat—not that I had anything in the icebox anyway.
I got dressed for bed and got under the covers, but I couldn’t sleep. My mind kept replaying all the times that I had been with Moira, trying to figure out if there had been any clues that might have suggested that either the Feds were right, or that they were just completely loony. I still wanted to believe the latter, and I kept trying to find any reason to explain that Moira was not a vampire. I finally managed to fall asleep with that conviction firmly in my mind.
Intense pain in my cheek woke me up from a deep, dreamless sleep. My eyes flew open and I saw Moira leering at me. She stood on the left side with her left knee resting on the bed. She had on a thin, green-colored blouse that accented her eyes, which were wide with anger.
“Why did you fuckin’ do it?” Her right hand came crashing across my face, the force of the blow such that I rolled across the bed, tangled in the quilt. I stared up at her, my eyes wide with fear. There was something feral and predatory in the look she was giving me.
“Do…do what?” I stammered. She climbed fully onto the bed to hit me again and I scooted back, falling with a sharp THUD onto the floor, my legs still tangled in the quilt.
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