I stopped myself short, though. Doing so would make it hard to miss that I’d been in here. There was probably no point in making my escape route that obvious.
Regaining my focus, I stopped dicking around and noticed a couple additional doors in the master bedroom. Maybe I’d finally get lucky and one would lead to a balcony or something. By that point, I wasn’t averse to trying my luck swan diving into the moat. I began opening them.
There was a closet full of robes and other finery. Fucking thing was bigger than my entire bedroom back home. Goddamn, it was good to be king.
Next was a sparkling white bathroom. At least now I knew where Alex pinched his princely loaves.
A set of double sliding doors stood at the far end of the room. It was my last choice left. That had to be it.
Ugh! They were locked and much heavier than I would have guessed. If this was an exit, it sure as shit wasn’t a convenient one.
Thankfully, I still had some extra zing to my step. I applied pressure, trying to pry the doors apart. Holy crap, talk about sturdy. Had I been at my normal strength, I wouldn’t have been able to budge them. Thankfully, that wasn’t the case. I put my back into it and metal squealed as the lock snapped and the doors finally parted.
They slid open and I immediately bit down on my tongue to stifle the scream that wanted to come rushing out. I hadn’t expected the sight of so many faces greeting me.
♦ ♦ ♦
Three rows of shelves stood before me. Each held multiple glass cylinders stacked side by side. These cylinders were full of a red-tinted liquid, transparent enough so that the preserved head contained within each was clearly visible.
My first thought was the head museum from Futurama. Alas, the resemblance ended there as I didn’t see Richard Nixon or any other smiling celebrities.
Their expressions reflected the tortured pain of their last moments, as if they’d died in excruciating agony - which was probably not too far from the truth. Staring at them all, a strange feeling entered the pit of my stomach - almost like mild indigestion. That was weird. Maybe Alex had eaten something earlier that was disagreeing with me. Regardless, I pushed it aside for the moment.
While I stood there looking at a collection far more macabre than anything my roommate, Tom, had on display, lights turned on and illuminated the scene. Hmm, maybe the doors opening activated it.
A low buzzing noise reached my ears, seeming to originate from within the containers. Sure enough, the liquid in each moved slightly and there seemed to be small bits of debris being thrown up from the bottoms.
I leaned in closer to look, nearly touching one of them. An odd swirling began at the base of it. What the...?
Just then, the buzzing ceased and the motion stopped - affording me a clearer view. There was a blade in the bottom, like something you’d see in a food processor. Squinting, I saw that the flotsam it had disturbed was actually bits of flesh from the ragged remains of the neck upon which this container’s resident noggin sat.
What the hell? Was this Alex’s fucked-up version of a personal wet bar? Jesus Christ, what a...
A slight wave of vertigo swam over me as my eyes defocused. The room’s appearance became all fuzzy, and I put a hand onto the container I’d been examining to steady myself. The power of Alex’s blood was starting to wear off. A pity. I’d begun to get used to it.
With my free hand, I reached into my back pocket to retrieve my glasses. It had been nice to visit the land of twenty-twenty vision, but all vacations must come to an end. As I put them on, the world swam back into focus - including the now-open eyes of the jarred head in front of me...eyes that were staring directly into mine.
“Holy shit!”
I staggered back a step. Unfortunately, in my panic, I brushed against the jar I’d been studying, causing it to teeter. Oh crap.
For a moment I thought I was screwed, but then it resettled itself.
That’s when the impossible happened.
♦ ♦ ♦
Somehow, the head within jerked forward, coming into contact with the glass. The container overbalanced and fell. All of this happened within the space of a second. Had I not been completely freaked, I might’ve still caught it. Sadly, would’ve could’ve and should’ve were all taking a siesta right then. As I stood there dumbfounded, it landed on the floor and shattered - drenching my lower half in the reddish liquid inside.
Even with my diminishing senses, there was no mistaking the scent of blood - albeit very diluted.
The head within, now freed of its glass prison, rolled to a stop next to my foot. Before I could punt the creepy thing away, the eyes again focused on me and the mouth opened, revealing the fangs within. These weren’t the severed remains of human victims. They were vampires.
My friend on the floor wasn’t alone, either. I looked up to see that all of the heads now had their eyes trained on me. Talk about fucking weird.
Back when Gan had first visited New York, in a deluded attempt to win my heart, she’d explained it. When vamps of significant rank wanted you dead, there usually wasn’t much you could do except obligingly die a horrific death. Sometimes, though, that wasn’t enough for the merciless fuckers. Occasionally, they’d opt for that whole fate worse than death thing.
In such cases, a vampire could be decapitated via a silver blade coated with a specific poison. Under normal circumstances when that happened, you’d be left with nothing but a pile of dust. The poison would retard that process, however. The head would still be living - or whatever we vampires do - and could be kept that way indefinitely if placed in blood.
Diluted blood was apparently good enough, and also seemingly served the dual purpose of letting the captor see the submerged head in question - presumably to gloat at it.
How long had they been here? And what had they done to piss off Alex so badly that he kept them around in his fucking closet like trophies? It wasn’t hard to imagine, judging by the strength of the door, that they were for his eyes only. I imagined that most vamps, especially the Draculas, wouldn’t be shy about displaying such things to their peers. So what was the story here?
I shook my head. Why the fuck did I even care? This was most definitely not my problem, at least outside of the fact that I’d probably just made room for myself in the collection. I easily envisioned Alex being pissed off enough to do something like this to me, prophecy be damned. Most of the elder vamps I’d met weren’t shy about putting their own egos ahead of the greater good. Even worse, I was standing there like a doofus as the last of his power left me. If even a lowly guard happened by, I was toast.
That being said, I considered that possibility low. If this was indeed Alex’s abode, I doubted anyone would be insane enough to trespass. It hadn’t been particularly difficult to break in, leading me to think that theory had merit. Regardless, it wasn’t like I could just move in and hope nobody noticed. I’d outstayed my welcome, and it was time to do something about that.
I hesitated, though, my eyes surveying the mess I’d made - including the severed noggin lying there. There was little chance of me cleaning things up, what with me lacking a mop, dustpan, and a shit-ton of glue. Even so, I needed at least to try covering my tracks.
I used my foot to slide the glass shards under the shelving, then glanced down at the head, still alive and staring at me. Fucking thing was definitely giving me the heebie-jeebies.
Whoever he’d been, he had a strong chin and long dark hair - ending where his neck did, obviously a result of the makeshift Cuisinart he’d called home. There was no telling what the rest of him had been like, but his face could have almost passed as a stunt double for Arnold Schwarzenegger during his Conan days. Oh well, I had no time for “I’ll be back” jokes. I reached down to pick him up, intent on putting him back onto the shelf where he belonged.
But wait. Whoever this was, he’d obviously done something to get on Alex’s bad side. Wasn’t there that saying about the enemy of my enemy being my friend? Wasn’t it possible he
might have some information that could be useful? I mean, sure, he was just a head, but maybe Sally or James could read his lips or something.
There was also the fact that...well, I’m not a total dick like Alex and most of his buddies. It seemed like an asshole move to just leave this guy there to rot after he had spent God knows how long living in a margarita blender.
That settled it. I’d been doing my damnedest since waking up undead to avoid being a prick like my fellow vamps. In the end, that could very well be the difference between winning and losing in my bid to save the world. How? I had no fucking idea. I was pretty much grasping at straws.
The glass out of the way, I pulled the double doors shut - putting my back into it, now that Alex’s strength had fled me. One hernia later and they were closed again, the busted lock thankfully unseen from the outside. Aside from Captain Cranium, there was still plenty of diluted blood on the floor, but I got an idea that would possibly solve that.
Make that solve both problems. Outside of his personal aquarium, the head wasn’t much different than a fish that had leaped from its tank. He wasn’t looking too good - I mean, even worse than a decapitated head should look. His eyes, formerly focused on me, were starting to roll up into his...well, y’know.
“Hang in there, buddy,” I muttered and then got to work.
Sightseeing
Five minutes later, I stepped back out of Alex’s room. His other closet had contained everything the doctor ordered, and I helped myself to as much as I dared without making it look completely ransacked.
I’d grabbed a few of his robes and used them to clean up the blood - saturating them in the process. They’d need a bit more than a good bleaching before they’d be wearable again, but fuck it. I was fairly sure the puppet-master of Switzerland could afford some new terrycloth.
After cleaning up my mess, I’d wrapped Max Headroom in the bloody robes, hoping they’d keep him hydrated enough until I could think of something better. The shoulder pack I’d swiped to stuff him into appeared to be weatherproof. Hopefully, it would keep anything from dripping out. It wasn’t the best of plans, but it was all I had at the moment.
I closed the door behind me and then replaced the candle that had revealed the secret door. As expected, the action caused it to close up again. Ah, so cliché. Oh, Alex, you really need to read some new material. That crap wouldn’t have fooled a first-level rogue and it sure as shit hadn’t fooled me...mostly.
I wasn’t out of the woods yet. Sure, I was above ground, but that was the extent of what I knew. I still needed to find a way out of this medieval rat maze.
Going down again wasn’t an option, so I decided to follow the side corridors that I’d passed upon reaching this level. I just needed for luck to be on my side for a little bit longer.
♦ ♦ ♦
I went down a few hallways before finally finding another locked door. This one, though, was latched from my side. Considering that a promising sign, I unlocked it and stepped through into some sort of sitting room.
A fat man stood there for a moment, staring at me while he continued eating his sandwich. He regarded me with bored disdain, munching away as he did so, before reaching into a pocket with his free hand.
His stubby fingers emerged, holding a smartphone. He pressed a button on the screen and I immediately went into panic mode. I was too close to be caught now. There was no fucking way I was going back, especially since I had a feeling I’d be joining the guy in my knapsack on a shelf somewhere - destined to be at Alex’s mercy for all of eternity whenever he decided a good Freewill skull-fucking was just the thing to curb his boredom. No thank you.
I was pretty much back to my normal strength, but my nose was telling me that this guy was just a human - one for whom hygiene wasn’t apparently a top concern. Unless he was a Shaolin monk in disguise - and that would’ve been a hell of a disguise - I could take this fucker before he sounded the alarm.
The guy barely had time to open his jowly mouth in surprise before I was on him, driving my fist into his meaty face. He went down with a thud. Oh yeah, I still had it.
I bent down and pried the phone from his greasy fingers, holding it up to see what was on the screen. It was the...the camera app? What, was he looking to take a photo of me? Maybe share it on Facebook so he could prove to his masters that he’d found the escaped Freewill?
“Deiter,” a shrill voice called from somewhere outside of the room. “Deiter!”
I stepped to the opposite doorway and peeked out. An equally large woman, with her hair done up in a sloppy bun, was looking about curiously. Her eyes fell upon me and immediately passed over as she continued calling what I assumed to be the man’s name. What the...?
Beyond her, I could see more people. They were milling about in a group, following a man who was speaking in what sounded like German and pointing at various knickknacks in the room. Most of the group held cameras, which were clicking away at whatever the guy pointed at.
I ducked back into the sitting room and looked down at the dude I’d just decked. Now that I had a moment, I realized he didn’t look even remotely like a guard.
Oh, fuck - I’d just mugged a tourist.
♦ ♦ ♦
Panicking, I dragged the fat guy through the door I’d entered from. I turned to leave, hoping maybe to lose myself amongst the tour group, then stopped. At this point, I’d already committed felony assault. It wasn’t like I could be in much deeper shit. When life hands you lemons...you go through their pockets and steal what you can. At least that’s what I did. I grabbed the guy’s phone and wallet. If I was going to be a fugitive, I might as well go all the way.
Propping Chubs up against the wall, I stepped back out, trying to look touristy. Yeah, I was making it up as I went.
I couldn’t have planned what happened next better had I tried. Apparently, the guides didn’t take kindly to people wandering off. I’d no more than walked ten paces before an angry, red-faced man came marching up to me, speaking sternly in words that I couldn’t understand.
I held up my hands to let him know I had no idea what he was saying, causing him to shut up and glare at me expectantly.
“Um...Americano?”
The guide sighed painfully. My guess was he’d done this before. “Can you not read?” he asked in heavily accented English. “Wandering off is strictly forbidden on night tours.”
“Sorry, I was just exploring a little. This place is quite...fascinating.”
“Be that as it may, do so again and I will have to ask you to leave.”
“Leave?” I asked, not believing my luck.
“Yes, and I am afraid that no refunds are given.”
“Oh, well in that case, did I mention how good your mother is at sucking dicks?”
“What?”
“Yep. Last night, that bitch gobbled down my bratwurst like it was Oktoberfest.”
The man’s face turned even redder. “That is it. Your disrespect will not be tolerated!” He turned and beckoned me to follow. “Hopefully, this will teach you to respect the rules.”
I thought back to my adventures from the past several hours. “I highly doubt it.”
♦ ♦ ♦
The true beauty of a stolen smartphone is, without a doubt, Google Maps. It took me a few seconds to force the English version of the site to load, but finally, I was no longer flying blind...and flying was my goal.
I kept walking, making sure to put as much distance between myself and the castle as possible, despite knowing it wouldn’t help if they decided to track me down. They knew my scent, and I probably likewise reeked of blood - not to mention decapitated cranium.
Regardless, I wasn’t about to give up. They might still catch me, but I sure as fuck was going to make them work for it.
Walking along the shores of what I assumed to be Lake Geneva, I hit pay-dirt on the phone. There was a major airport nearby. Even better, it was just on the opposite side of the lake. Unfortunately, it was a big fucking lake.
>
There was also the fact that I had limited money, no passport, no ID, and was carrying a severed head. Yeah, this was gonna be a tad tricky.
♦ ♦ ♦
Thank goodness for petty larceny. My escape plan was greatly accelerated once I realized that, regardless of being on the opposite side of the planet, any airport of note was going to have buses going to and from it. I sincerely doubted the wallet I’d swiped had enough money to pay for a ticket back home, but there was certainly enough to cover bus fare. Once on board, a quick sniff of the air confirmed that the rest of the passengers were all human. Thus, I slipped into a seat - just another tourist looking to go home.
The vampire choice of strongholds was smart. They controlled a ridiculously rich country that was situated in perhaps the world’s most perfect natural fortress - a fact attested to once I was able to relax and enjoy the view out the window. Mountainous peaks could be seen in every direction, silhouetted against the stars shining in the night sky.
There was just one small mistake in picking such a place, as opposed to a foreboding fortress deep within the mountains of Transylvania: a massive tourist trade. There was no way - not even with the end of the world nigh - that the vampires could put the entire nation on lockdown to search for little ole me. The international community would probably notice such things. I just had to stick with the crowd and get to the airport.
From there - okay, I had no fucking idea. I still somehow had to figure out which plane was the correct one, get myself a ticket, then make it past security without them x-raying my bag and noticing the gruesome contents within, all in a place that I had absolutely no knowledge about, save what I could pull up on a phone that only had thirty percent battery life left.
It was a piece of cake...had I been Jason Bourne. For me, well, there was always the hope for a minor miracle.
Goddamned Freaky Monsters (The Tome of Bill Book 5) Page 7
