by steve higgs
I clicked my fingers and Big Ben hit the switch to bathe the room in light. The room was a gothic temple to all things vampire. Jim clearly had little imagination and an account with Vampires R Us because there were candles, black and red velvet and occult looking silver artifacts adorning every surface. The floor was covered in rugs and furs, there was a large mahogany sideboard / altar-looking thing with dusty tomes arranged on top. There were also Buffy the Vampire Slayer comics though, so perhaps he wasn't completely committed to the crypt look after all.
The coffin was exactly where Mrs. Cambridge had said it would be and there was a figure in it. I took all this in during the first second or so, by which time I was moving across the room and Jim was coming awake.
‘Bwwwah?’ said Jim, his hands gripping the sides of the coffin and his feet beginning to flail. The coffin was set a couple of feet off the floor on top of a structure sheathed in black velvet. The coffin looked high end to me, not that I had much experience when it came to coffins, but it was made from a shiny black material and looked expensive.
Jim was getting up, which is not what I wanted. I wanted him incapacitated or immobile while I asked him a few questions. I crossed the room in two paces, raising my hands to my sides to show they were empty. ‘Take it easy, big fella. I am a private investigator here at your Grandmother's request. I just want to ask you a few questions.'
‘You dare to disturb me from my slumber?' He certainly got into character pretty quick. His voice was pitched somewhere between angry and disbelieving, ‘You will perish, foolish mortal. Be gone while you still can.' He was half sat in the coffin now with his hands gripping the sides. What I noticed though was that he didn't seem to want to get out and deal with me.
I crossed my arms and gave him my stoniest look, ‘Jim tell me, do you really think you are a vampire? Or are you just being a moron?' Above me, I heard Big Ben snigger.
Jim was not tall, perhaps five feet eight inches or a little more. It was hard to tell with him in a coffin. He was also skinny as if the diet of blood was not very filling. I reminded myself that he was potentially guilty of several murders, but it was hard to imagine the brutal murders being carried out by the gimp in front of me. He was wearing black drainpipe jeans, no socks, a black silk shirt open to the waist nearly, heavy eyeliner and black nail varnish on his fingers and toes. He also wore an abundance of silver jewellery.
‘Not exactly Robert Pattinson, are you?’ I was goading him unnecessarily.
‘I will suck your soul out!’ he screamed, rising from the coffin. I placed a firm hand on his chest and pushed him back down.
He swatted at me and then ducked his head to bite my forearm. I pulled my arm away, no telling what he might do, and bites are painful. ‘Behave now, Jim.'
‘My name is Demedicus Solomon,’ he interrupted me, his voice an angry growl, ‘Jim Butterworth was my useless, pathetic human form before I was transformed into a vampire.’ He looked quite pissed off, but he didn’t attempt to get up.
My time in the army provided plenty of opportunities to learn when a person was going to fight and when they were not. A lot of chaps wanted to sound tough and would threaten and make a lot of noise, their nervous energy would manifest as general agitation causing the would-be protagonist to stay in motion, hands clenching, body vibrating. One soon learned that they posed very little threat though. The ones to watch were the calm ones, the ones that said very little, choosing to observe instead. My analogy was that of a sword being drawn. Drawing a sword makes very little noise, but means it is going to be used, the noisy man was just rattling the sword in its scabbard and thus had no intention of drawing it at all. Jim / Demedicus was just rattling his sword. Looking at his seventy-kilogram frame I was not sure he even had a sword.
I'm not much of a fighter myself, I tried a lot of boxing and martial arts but found I did not have the temperament required to have people hitting me. Constant effort at the gym, plus years of fight training, meant that I looked the part though and I use this to my advantage when I need to.
‘You are a vampire hunter? Come to destroy me in my crypt? I see the stake sticking out of your belt. You won’t find me easy to kill mortal.’
‘Jim, I have no intention of causing you any harm and will be gone as soon as I can confirm that you are a true vampire,' his eyebrows lifted, ‘and get a couple of answers regarding your supply of blood.' Jim seemed caught between anger at my intrusion, excitement that I believed he may be a vampire and indecision about what to do next.
‘Do you want to get out of the coffin and do this over a cup of tea?' Tea makes for a relaxing atmosphere, probably because it is such a normal activity, but my hope was that I could prove he was neither a vampire nor the crazed murderer and get out of there.
‘Vampires don’t drink tea,’ he stated snippily.
‘How about a Bloody Mary?’ Big Ben called down from the next floor. Clearly Big Ben was enjoying himself.
‘Jim.’
‘Demedicus,’ he snapped again.
‘Okay. Demedicus,’ I relented, ‘My name is Tempest Michaels, my colleague upstairs with your Grandmother is Ben Winters. I am going to invite him down now.’ I made it a statement rather than a question - no need to invite his opinion.
‘Ben, come on down. Demedicus is willing to let us test him to prove that he is a vampire.’ Again, it was a statement - it is happening.
‘What do these tests involve?' Demedicus asked, eyeing the stake in my belt once again. His eyes were bugging out a bit and he was starting to sweat. To my mind, the sweat had already proved that was not a vampire, but I proceeded to explain the tests anyway.
‘Nothing that will harm you in any way, Demedicus. Your Grandmother wants me to prove to her whether you are a vampire or not because she is concerned about you. As everyone knows vampires are part of the undead and therefore have no heartbeat, their body temperature is far below the human normal range and they have no breath or reflection.' My years of studying Buffy, Charmed and True Blood was clearly put to good use. ‘My tests will merely confirm your status as positive or negative.'
His eyes were bugging out even further now and he was beginning to look quite unsettled. The prospect of having one’s ridiculous illusion exposed I assumed.
‘I’m not happy about this,’ he muttered.
Behind me, I could hear Big Ben coming down the stairs, but he clearly had someone else with him from the pattern of footfalls. I turned to see Big Ben arrive in the basement accompanied by Mrs. Cambridge. Mrs. Cambridge had a bible clutched to her breast and a crucifix in her left hand.
‘I can’t allow you to do these tests,' stated Demedicus in what was a fairly authoritarian tone, ‘I am a vampire and won’t be subjected to ridicule by lesser mortals.' He was still sat in the coffin but appeared to have finally found some gumption.
‘You do as you are told, foul hell beast,' spat Mrs. Cambridge.
Caught between Demedicus and Mrs. Cambridge, I found myself moving my head like I was watching tennis, ‘I thought Mrs. Cambridge had gone to her neighbour, Ben,' I pointed out with a degree of exasperation.
Mrs. Cambridge then clearly decided that progress was not being made fast enough and despite her advancing years, she grabbed the stake sticking out of Big Ben's belt and launched herself across the room at her grandson.
Big Ben and I both lunged at her, catching a shoulder each. She twisted and kicked, wailing that the hellspawn had to be destroyed.
Where do these people come from?
Big Ben and I had to hold on for dear life, despite each of us weighing twice as much as her. Demedicus meanwhile had pulled a mobile phone from somewhere and had already connected to someone.
‘Obsidian? Obsidian, you must help me. There are people in my crypt trying to kill me,’ he was yelling into the phone. I assumed that Obsidian was another vampire-wannabe. Do vampires have friends? I could remember Buffy and Faith taking out nests of vampires, so I suppose they cohabit or something. ‘It’s my gr
andmother and friggin’ Van Helsing man. Get over here,’ a pause while whoever was on the other end spoke, ‘Don’t give me the daylight rubbish, man. Get over here. Get everyone and help me out before they put a stake through my chest,’ his voice was a desperate squeak.
Big Ben and I had finally subdued Mrs. Cambridge and had settled her onto a chair next to the stairs without popping her hip completely. ‘You must kill the beast while the sun shines,' she ranted, ‘They are weakest then. If you won’t do it, then I will. Just hold him for me.' She was full on bonkers at this point, eyes fixed firmly on her Grandson. This was getting way out of hand. I needed to calm her down, grab the blood-stained clothes and leave before it got any crazier.
Big Ben was the next to move though. ‘Vampires burn in sunlight, right? So, let's prove dummy here is not a vampire and then maybe we can move on.' With that, he crossed the room, flipped the handle on the small window to the outside world and flung it open. The window had been painted black on the inside, but now natural sunlight flooded into the room.
‘AArrrrgghh!’ screamed Demedicus, ‘Arrrrggh! I’m burning.’ He was sort of dancing around a bit flapping at his face, but then he grabbed at the velvet sheet under the coffin, gripped it in both hands and yanked it out from under the coffin which flipped over and crashed onto the floor sending up a fog of dust. He then threw the sheet over his head to keep the sun off, not that I was buying into the charade.
Mrs. Cambridge jumped back up. Actually jumped! ‘See! I told you he was a vampire. Kill him now!' She came at Demedicus again. Big Ben and I both moved to intercept her, which left Demedicus with a direct path up the stairs and out of the room. And that's exactly where he went. Still screaming and cursing, he ran, flailing the velvet behind him like a cape. It was wrapped around his head though and I guess it affected his ability to see because there was an almighty thump as he ran into something.
Now what? Neither my time in the army nor private investigation training had prepared me for situations such as this. It was all getting quite ridiculous.
‘I'll go see to vampire boy, you take care of Mrs. Cambridge,' I yelled at Big Ben as I headed for the stairs, ‘Mrs. Cambridge?' I called to get her attention, ‘Mrs. Cambridge, I want no more crazy vampire talk and attempts to kill your grandson.' I thought it necessary to put this point across in unambiguous terms before she went ahead and stabbed him with something.
‘Jim is no more vampire than I, which should be perfectly obvious to anyone. You must calm down so that Ben and I can ask him a few questions.’ I headed up the stairs to the living room where I could hear Jim / Demedicus groaning and moving about. Sure enough, Jim was on the floor in the living room. He appeared to have run head first into one of the oak joists supporting the upper story of the house. There was a cut to his head and blood leaking out of his hairline and down across his forehead. The oak joist would have been an odd feature in a modern house but seemed perfectly at home in the middle of the room in this quaint little cottage. Jim had forgotten its location in his haste.
I knelt and gently removed the velvet sheet from his semi-inert form. His skin, now exposed to daylight, was not crisping or bursting into flame, which seemed conclusive enough proof to me of his mortality.
‘Let’s get you up and into a chair, shall we?’
Please let me get this over with and get out of here with no further madness.
Jim was conscious, perhaps a little dazed, but he accepted my hand and let me help him up and into one of the chintz-covered armchairs. As he was settling back into the chair, Big Ben appeared at the top of the stairs leading up from the basement.
‘Mrs. Cambridge promises to behave now. Wow, what did you do to him?' Big Ben asked as he saw the blood now dripping down Jim's face.
‘I didn’t do anything. The thump we heard was Jim running blindly into the oak joist over there,’ I replied, motioning with my head. I had slipped on a pair of latex gloves, I always keep some in my pocket, and was checking the convincing wound on Jim’s head. The skin over the scalp is thin and has a great supply of blood, so even a small cut will bleed profusely. This was not a small cut.
‘Mrs. Cambridge promised to behave if I let her come back upstairs,' Big Ben repeated his previous sentence, ‘She looks a little exhausted from all the excitement actually, I doubt she will give us any more bother.'
‘I sure hope so.’
‘First-aid kit?’ Big Ben asked.
‘There is one in the car,’ I advised then turned my attention to the old lady, ‘Mrs. Cambridge?'
‘Yes, Dear?’ She had taken a seat by her small dining table and although she was still eyeing Jim suspiciously, she appeared to have calmed down and did indeed look quite exhausted.
‘Mrs. Cambridge, my associate is going to pop out to my car to fetch a first-aid kit. Jim has a nasty cut to his head and may need treatment at A&E. First, though I need to do what I can to stem the bleeding. Can I expect any more trouble from you? You will observe I hope, that Jim is now in daylight and has not burst into flame. Furthermore, the presence of blood should convince you that he is not a vampire since vampires have no heartbeat and therefore don’t bleed.' I had stepped slightly to the side so that she could see Jim bleeding and not burning.
‘Yes, Dear. Sorry about before. I’m not sure what came over me. Are you alright, Jim?
‘Demedicus,’ he slurred quietly, still not quite ready to let his fantasy go.
Big Ben had been bent over next to me examining the inch-long cut to Jim's head. He stood up now though and moved to the door to get the first aid kit. My back was to the door, but I sensed it opening as light flooded into the room. Big Ben gasped quite audibly; a noise of inrushing breath followed by the sound of the door being slammed shut.
‘Tempest, we have a problem,' he squeaked. I looked up to see him bracing the door with his body. Back to the door, feet planted firmly on the wooden floor. ‘There is, like fifty morons dressed as vampires outside, man.' His eyes were showing way too much white for my liking.
Before I could get off my knees and ask him any further questions, faces started appearing at the windows. The faces each wore too much eye makeup, one had a bleached flat top hair style, another wore his hair in black spikes, yet another was a girl with black lips and a dozen facial piercings. I scanned the room, it had four windows positioned on two different sides. At each window, I could see more faces appearing so that now they were several deep in places. They were cupping their hands to the side of their faces like people do when they are looking into somewhere dark and need to shut out as much peripheral light as possible.
‘They’ve got Demedicus!’ I heard one of them say, ‘He’s friggin’ bleeding man!’
Oh, nuts!
The call to Obsidian that Jim made downstairs. I had totally forgotten the call for help.
Big Ben had bolted the door and was looking out the small window above it now. ‘There's more arriving, Tempest. A whole bunch of them just got out of a van. This is not cool. I can’t be murdered by a bunch of vampire-wannabe losers. I'm supposed to die underneath a pile of dirty women while celebrating my ninetieth birthday. I promised myself I would.' Big Ben was looking genuinely nervous, which in turn was beginning to affect my efforts to stay calm.
I reminded myself that this was not my first time in an uncomfortable situation. Not my first time trapped in a building with hostiles outside for that matter. Panicking gets you nowhere. The only thing you can do is breath and focus. I did a mental checklist: Have we secured the premises? And that was as far as my mental checklist got because I heard the back-door open.
Big Ben and I reacted together, or rather we failed to react, but we did that together. For a heartbeat, we just stood looking at each other, but then the spell was broken as vampire-wannabes began to stream in through the door from the kitchen to the rest of the house. Leading the bunch was a hefty, hairy man with black hair and a beard, wearing a full-length, black, leather coat he could have stolen from Morpheus in the matr
ix. He had kept with convention and was wearing a ton of black eyeliner, probably mascara and a plethora of silver rings and chains. Obsidian perhaps? Let's call him vampire-wannabe number one for now.
Vampire-wannabe number one was running. It took nanoseconds from the time he rounded the door to the time he was into the room and moving towards me. He was a lot bigger than me and had a face that meant business.
My adrenalin spiked instantly and since flight was not an option, I adjusted my stance for fighting. I had fought big guys before, although I don't make a habit of it and try to avoid fighting altogether if I can. When they rush you, it is easy to convert their momentum and throw them. This was my intention, but I never got the chance because Mrs. Cambridge punched him in the nuts.
Just like that.
She didn’t even get out of her chair, she just flung out a fist at his crotch as he drew level with her. He folded up mid-run and crashed to the wooden floor at my feet. Behind him, a small sea of advancing vampire-wannabes screeched to a confused halt. In front of them, Mrs. Cambridge got to a wobbly, standing position from where she had been sitting in silence during the few seconds that all this had been playing out.
‘Now just you stop all this,’ she commanded, her voice that of a grandmother admonishing some unruly children, ‘I have had quite enough nonsense for one day already.’
In the doorway that came from the back of the house into the living room, were rows of vampire-wannabes. Those at the front looked like they wanted to be elsewhere and were being shoved forward by those behind that could not see. From somewhere in the crowd came a voice that still felt they had a purpose here. ‘We came to rescue Demedicus from those vampire hunters,' he said aiming for forthrightness and not quite making it.
The faces I could see had all been focused on Mrs. Cambridge, but, as if remembering why they were invading someone else's property, they now looked across at me as one. What they saw was Big Ben and I still poised for fighting, wearing Kevlar and combat boots while behind and to our side were their fellow vampire-wannabes still pressing their faces to the window and probably trampling Mrs. Cambridge's geraniums. Just to the side of me was Demedicus still covered in blood and looking dazed.
