The footsteps drew level to him. “Good evening,” said a cultured voice. Jack took his eyes off the shadow just a split second, to reply to the greeting, and the shadow vanished.
He turned to the man standing in front of him. And looked up. The man was tall. He wore a black cape and had shoulder-length blond hair. If Jack had to imagine what a Viking looked like, it would have been like this. Except for the cloak. This man should have had a fur vest and a bronze sword. “Uh, good evening,” said Jack, taking a step backward.
“Going to the Shores?” the man asked, in his soft, alluring voice.
“Why, yes, but I saw something over there.”
“Something?”
“I’m not sure what it was. Not a cat. It was about this high.” Jack held his hand about four feet off the ground. “It was just standing near the door.”
“You saw the watcher?” The man lifted an elegant eyebrow. “You must have keen eyesight.”
“The watcher?”
“We call him that. Though to be truthful, it may be a her. No one has ever spoken to the watcher. No one knows where he came from. Some say the watcher came with the stones.”
“The stones?”
“The Shores was built from stones belonging to an ancient bridge near the shores of a lake. When the bridge was built, a child was killed and put into the foundation. That is the watcher.”
“A child was killed?” Jack felt like a parrot, but he couldn’t help himself. The man was fascinating, with his arctic blue eyes, wide smile, and sharp fangs. “You’re a vampire!”
The man blinked. “How can you tell?”
“Uh, fangs?” Jack licked his lips nervously. Was it polite to tell a vampire his fangs were showing?
“And just what are you?” the vampire asked, leaning over closer. His nostrils flared. “No blood. No heartbeat. Undead, yet I sense a soul. How curious. An undead with a soul still intact. I wonder how it is kept within you?”
“It wanted to stay,” said Jack stiffly.
If eyebrows could climb off a head this guy would be in trouble. Then a ferocious glint appeared in his eyes and he lifted the corner of his upper lip, baring one needle-sharp fang. “So, a necromancer made you. There is but one alive today with that talent. Jim Ling-Li. I have heard of his daughter, the vampire killer May, but I haven’t heard of you. Are you made to kill vampires too?”
And if looks could kill, Jack would be toast right now. “No, I was made to catch the Heart Taker.”
Expressions darted over the vampire’s face, finally settling on wary interest. “That will be quite a feat, seeing as no one can see him,” he said.
“I told you I have keen eyesight.” Jack didn’t know if the vampire was friendly or not, or what protocol was involved when meeting one, but he decided that his own manners would have to do. He stuck his hand out. “Jack Severn,” he said. “Nice to meet you.”
A real smile danced across the vampire’s face, and he shook Jack’s hand. “Bartholomew Aelfrith, at your service.” He withdrew his hand and gave a bow.
Everything about Bartholomew, Jack thought, was both refined and charismatic. He’d never met another vampire, so he couldn’t compare them, but if they were all like this he could imagine why they were so popular as heroes in novels. He nodded toward the alley. “I have to go. I’m meeting someone.”
“Who, if I might enquire?”
Jack shrugged. “May Ling-Li. She has some information for me about the Heart Taker.”
The friendly expression vanished. “The vampire killer,” he said, his voice frosty. “Perhaps I’ll go elsewhere tonight. Good evening, Jack Severn. I hope we shall meet again.”
Before Jack could reply, Bartholomew folded his cloak around his shoulders and then lifted into the night, turning into a small bat as he fluttered away.
Now that was an interesting sight, Jack thought. The watcher was nowhere to be seen, and Jack went to the front door of The Shores and knocked.
****
May saw him as he walked in and she waved him over. She sat alone in a small booth, and Jack found himself wondering if she had any friends, or any life at all outside of her work. He also decided not to ask her. He had a feeling she could easily kill him if she wanted to. Despite her small stature and fragile appearance, he was more cautious of her than of the tall, broad-shouldered vampire.
“Good evening,” he said, as he slid into his seat. To the waitress he said, “I’ll have a glass of red wine, please.”
May wore jeans and a hot pink, fluffy sweater, and she looked ravishing. Her pale, oval face seemed more tense than usual, but when he asked her what was wrong, she shook her head and said, “Nothing.”
“What was the news you wanted to tell me?”
She shook her head. “No news. I wanted you to meet some mutants who had contact with the Heart Taker.”
“Contact?” Jack looked up as his drink arrived and thanked the waitress. Taking the glass he took a sip.
“Ah, here they are.” May stood up and made a sign with her hand.
Jack turned, and saw two, very scruffy individuals. They slunk along the wall and, nodding fearfully to Jack, sat in the two remaining chairs and hunched over the table.
“This is Little Wolf and Gray Wolf,” said May. Aside to Jack she whispered, “They are very old mutants from the reservation. They are werewolves, and they don’t really like coming into the city. But it would be too risky right now to go into the trailer park where they live.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Jack, looking at them closely. To May he asked, “Why don’t they live on the reservation?”
“The Native Americans believe werewolves are the guardians of the sacred burial grounds. The trailer park is built on one such ground, and Little Wolf and Gray Wolf are the appointed guardians.” May spoke with deference.
Jack looked more carefully at the two werewolves. If May hadn’t told him, he would have thought they were two homeless beggars. Their clothes were rags, and they smelled, well, like wet dogs. They stared fixedly at the table, and didn’t meet his eyes at all. When he did manage to catch a glimpse of their eyes, he saw they were yellow, like a wolf’s eyes. A shiver ran down his back. The waitress brought them their drinks directly. Either they were regulars, or all werewolves drank the same thing. It looked like red wine, but he wasn’t sure since it was served in a beer mug.
They sat in silence for a while. The two werewolves relaxed bit by bit and as the time passed, they stopped looking quite so ragged and rough, and started to shed their shyness. The candle sputtered and the light wavered, and finally the one called Little Wolf looked up, took a deep breath, and said, “It takes longer and longer.”
“How many years has it been since you’ve taken human form?” May asked.
Little wolf shook his head. “I don’t know. Maybe five or six winters; time is blurred nowadays.”
Jack couldn’t contain his curiosity. “You stay in wolf form?”
Little Wolf’s yellow eyes flashed with humor and he smiled, showing white, even teeth. “Most people think we’re big dogs. Our job is to protect the sacred grounds.”
“What exactly are the sacred grounds?” Jack wanted to know.
“Where our ancestors have always been buried.” The other werewolf, Gray Wolf, spoke up, his voice a low growl. “The Natives know that there are places on earth that overlap the underworld. The sacred grounds are such places. They are doorways, if you like. We must guard them so that the dead stay dead, and so the spirits stay in their world. Most of the time, they don’t wish to leave. But there are always meddlers who try to lure them back, or evil spirits who wish to cause mischief. So we keep the guard.”
“It’s easier to do in wolf form. We need less to eat, we can see better, hear better, and run faster than in human form. And that is how we heard the Weeper.”
“The Weeper?” Here I go again, echoing everyone, thought Jack.
Gray Wolf took another sip of his drink and nodded somberly. “Th
e Weeper is a spirit held against its will. Sometimes zombies are made that way. The bokor takes the man’s spirit, keeps it in a clay jar, and the body becomes the bokor’s slave.”
“Seems everyone knew that but me,” said Jack, trying not to glare at May. He should have had a handbook with him when he woke up. Jim Ling-Li could have put one in his pocket or something. Not that he’d been in any shape to sit down and read when he crawled out of the grave. He shuddered. “Right. So this Weeper is a spirit who has been captured. What does that have to do with the Heart Taker?”
Little Wolf bared his teeth, very much like an angry dog. “We wondered how the Weeper’s body was kept alive. We passed in front of the trailer many times, thinking it was perhaps a mistake. The spirit might be lost, we argued, or maybe there was a new bokor in the park we didn’t know. So we took to keeping an eye out. The Weeper still weeps, and food appears, but no one sees anything. So we thought perhaps the Heart Taker has an interest in this Weeper, and comes and visits and gives it food.”
Jack suddenly felt ill. A wave of ice crashed over him. “The Weeper is his wife,” he said. He turned to May. “The Weeper is his wife. We have to tell Jeffrey. Sally said she saw bananas disappear in the store at the trailer park.” Ignoring May’s baffled look, he turned back to Gray Wolf. “How does one lead a spirit back to the underworld?”
Gray Wolf lifted his head and looked thoughtfully at Jack. “First, one has to free it from the bokor’s power. Then, you have to be very careful.”
“Because they are so fragile?” Jack asked.
The wolf looked surprised. “No, because they are so strong.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
May makes a Play
Jack and May left the Shores by the back door. Jack wasn’t paying attention. He’d already forgotten it was a demon door. He thought they’d end up by M.U.C.I. and he’d grab the train back to Brianna’s apartment.
But the place he found himself in was unfamiliar. He looked around. It was in the old neighborhood, not too far from Brianna’s place, but nowhere near the train station. He sighed in annoyance. He’d have a hike to get back to the A line, and he was tired.
“You look exhausted,” said May, taking him by the arm. His good arm. She began to walk. “Let’s go have a quick drink. You’ll feel better.”
“I’d rather head back.” Jack wondered how to disengage his arm without hurting her feelings.
“Here’s my place,” said May. “I live in one of the oldest buildings in the city.” She pointed to a medium-sized brick building with nice lines and an interesting porch. “You’re interested in architecture. You should have a look someday. Well, good night, Jack. Have a good weekend. I’ll see you on Monday.”
“Good night, May.” She hadn’t made a pass at him. Excellent. He didn’t want any complications. He put his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the cold. He better hurry. The last train would leave the station, and he didn’t have enough money for cab fare. Just as he took a step he heard a “snap,” and a “crunch,” and May say, “Oh no!”
Turning back, he saw May sitting halfway up her steps holding onto her foot.
“What happened?” he asked.
“My heel broke. That’ll teach me to buy cheap shoes. I didn’t have my brace on and now my foot came off.” She made a wry face. “The one pitfall of my zombie life.”
“Can I help?” Jack knew how awkward it could be sometimes getting the limb back on just right. An arm didn’t much matter, but a foot was important because of the weight on it.
“No, I’m fine. Been doing this for ages. You better hurry.” May gave a little wave and bent forward to fix her foot, but she dropped her purse and its contents spilled down the steps.
Jack was struck by her expression. She looked thunderstruck. She was someone who couldn’t deal with the little, every-day snags of life, he decided. She was so used to being perfect and to everything going her way, that when she hit a problem she fell apart. He felt sorry for her. Her cheeks were crimson. “Here, let me get this,” he said.
Jack trotted up the steps, grabbed her purse, and swept everything back in it. He was amazed by the amount of makeup she had. There were little satin wallets too, whose contents could only be guessed at. Jewelry? Pills? Not aspirin, surely. He found a keychain and handed it to her. “Here.”
“Thanks.” She still clutched her shoe in one hand. She looked lost and miserable and very small sitting on the steps. She got up and hobbled towards the door.
“Can I help you?”
“Well, if you insist. Take my purse. Thank you. It’s very sweet of you, Jack. Can you hold the door open for me? It’s heavy. Thanks. And my apartment is right here, ground floor.” She flicked on a light switch and a huge chandelier illuminated the hallway. Rich, polished wood lined the walls and the floor was black marble. It was an impressive entrance.
May’s door was to the right. She opened it and hopped inside. “Come on in. I’ll call you a cab.”
“I don’t have any cash,” said Jack.
“I can lend you some.” She shrugged. “If you want to wait in the hallway you can. Hold on while I get my brace.”
Her cheeks were still bright. Jack wondered why she was so embarrassed about her ankle. “This is a nice apartment,” he said, stepping inside. May switched on some lamps. There were no overhead lamps, just small spots of light in strategic places but the high ceilings gave the impression of space. It was an L-shaped studio, he saw, with an open kitchen, a cozy living area facing a large, bay window, and a bedroom area in the far corner surrounded by curtains. On the back of the room was a wall to wall bookcase and an enormous fish tank where three fish swam.
“Just put the purse on the table there. I’ll quick call a cab.” She went to the living area and sat on the plush, honey-colored sofa. The whole apartment was done in black and gold tones that suited May’s personality. “Can I get you a drink?” she asked, holding the phone to her ear. Then, “Yes, I’d like a cab please. Two-twenty-two Downing Street. One passenger. Yes, that’s right. Downtown, to the dock area.” She raised her eyebrows at Jack. He nodded. “Fine. Thank you.” She hung up. “He’ll be here in about twenty minutes.” She fiddled with her foot, then stood and gave him a bright smile. “Much better. Now, what can I get you? I have some excellent fruit juice. It will help replenish your strength.”
Jack started to say he was fine, but thought the better of it. He’d been raised to be polite. “That would be great.” He went and sat on the chair facing the couch, with his back to the bay window.
May came back in, bringing him the drink on a tray. “Here.” She sat on the couch and crossed her legs.
She had taken off her fluffy pink sweater and was wearing a skinny little top that showed off her breasts. She’d also take her pants off and wore a short skirt. Seeing Jack’s glance she said, “I tore my pants when I fell.” She made a face. “I’m never clumsy. It was those stupid shoes. The heel just snapped right off.”
Jack wasn’t sure what to say. He sipped his drink. May watched him intently for a minute. Jack started to get very uncomfortable. “This is delicious,”’ he said. “Um … what is it?”
“Guava, passion fruit, and tangerine juice.” She batted her eyelashes at him. “I’m so glad you came in, Jack. I haven’t had a guest in ages.”
The uncomfortable feeling grew. “Maybe you work too much?”
“That’s exactly the problem. Vampires are a plague among us. I spend my time hunting down those vermin.” May shuddered. “Horrible creatures. A stake through the heart’s too good for them.”
“I suppose it’s normal you feel that way, seeing that one killed you,” said Jack.
May beamed. “You understand. I knew you would.” She put her drink down and sighed. Then she got up and looked over Jack’s shoulder. “I thought I saw the taxi,” she said. Jack turned around to look. The street was empty. “No, it must have been just a car passing by.” She hesitated, and then slid onto the
chair with him.
“Oh Jack, I’ve been so lonely.” She rested her head lightly on his shoulder. “When my father made you, I couldn’t help hoping that you’d been made for me.”
“I’m in love with Brianna,” he said, trying to sound firm yet sympathetic.
“She’s human.” May drew back and looked at him almost accusingly. “You can’t chain her to you. That wouldn’t be fair. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
Jack sputtered. “Your father said—”
“My father is very protective of me. He doesn’t want me going out with anyone. He will try to keep us apart. But only until you prove your love for me.” May flung her arms around him. “Jack, say you’ll be mine.”
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” Jack tried to stand up, but she had latched onto his weak arm.
“Please stay the night. Give me a chance.” Tears trembled on the edge of her lashes.
“I really better leave. Oh, there’s my taxi!” There was nothing, but he pointed anyway.
“Don’t be silly. I didn’t call a taxi.” She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “You’re so handsome. I fell in love with you the second I saw you.”
“That’s a bad reason to love someone. Looks don’t last.” Jack tried to stand again but she wrestled him down on the chair. She was, as she'd said, absurdly strong.
“They do if you’re a zombie. Face it Jack, I’m right for you. Brianna is all wrong.”
Jack had heard enough. He wrenched out of her clutches. Unfortunately his arm stayed in May’s grip. “I’m leaving. Give me back my arm.”
“No. You can just leave without it.” Her face contracted in rage, her eyes blazed.
“Give me my arm.” Jack tried to make his voice reasonable, but May was having none of it.
“You want your arm? Fine. Here’s your arm!” She stood up, pushed open the window, and flung it out.
Jack tried to summon up his super speed. After all, it had worked on the stage of the Purple Dee when his arm had flown off. But maybe panic jump-started it, and not simple anger. He was pissed at May, but not panic-stricken. Swearing, he stomped out. She slammed the door behind him with a screech of rage.
Jack the Stripper Page 21
