The Tome of Bill Series: Books 1-4 (Bill The Vampire, Scary Dead Things, The Mourning Woods, Holier Than Thou)

by Rick Gualtieri

  “Well then...”

  “But it is not only the Grendel. The old alliances are still in place. If the Grendel declare war, then it is possible that other factions could once again join the fray. Believe me, when I say there are powers far beyond what you could possibly comprehend out there. Some would be eager to make the world remember their existence.”

  “Such as?”

  “I very much doubt the citizens of this city would be too appreciative if Marduk and Tiamat were to suddenly do battle in Times Square.”

  I did a mental calculation of both their stats from the latest edition of the Monster Manual. Hmm, not cool.

  “Not to mention,” Sally added, “how long do you think it would be before the humans brought out the big firecrackers?”

  “Nukes?” I asked.

  “Bingo.”

  Alex nodded somberly. “Yes, there is that to take into consideration, too.”

  “How the hell did we get from Bigfoot attacking vampires to Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome?” I asked skeptically.

  “I will admit,” said Alex, “that is most likely a worst case scenario. But still, it is in all our best interests to get up to the Northwest Territories and make sure that it never gets a chance to escalate to that point. If we do not, then our alternatives are...”

  “Wait a second. Did you say ‘Northwest Territories?’”

  “Yes.”

  “Where the fuck is that?”

  “Isn’t it in Canada?” Sally asked.

  “Yes,” Alex replied. “Northern Canada, to be precise.”

  “Why the fuck are they having peace talks in Canada, of all places? Couldn’t they pick somewhere more ... relevant?”

  “It is relevant to the Grendel. Ever since the First Coven reached out to discuss parley with our ancient enemies, the Grendel have been in active competition for a place to host the event.”

  “Competition?”

  “The Grendel are a spiritual race, thus they demanded the talks happen at a place that holds significance for them. However, they are also a caste-driven society that places heavy significance on both birth as well as strength of arms. Not only are the Territories home to one of the larger populations of the Grendel on this continent, but it is also the location of the Woods of Mourning, an ancestral burial ground that holds the remains of many of their fallen warriors. I don’t know exactly what transpired, but the chieftain of that area came out victorious. The honor is his to...”

  I started to chuckle.

  “Don’t do it, Bill,” Sally warned.

  “If I may ask...” Alex started.

  “Morning wood!” I let out, cackling. “Oh, that’s great. I bet their ancestors got a rise out of that one.”

  “I am afraid I do not...”

  “I’ll be sure not to let any boners slip during the peace conference,” I continued, still laughing.

  Alex turned to Sally, a confused look on his face. She replied, “Don’t ask. Just assume Bill is a retard. It’s easier that way.”

  Still looking confused, he simply replied, “If you say so.”

  Yeah, I think it's safe to say he was starting to have doubts about sending me.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  It was only later, after Alex had departed for his hotel, that I realized what deep shit I was in.

  I turned to Sally. “Didn’t he say that the last treaty took a year to hammer out?”

  “Something like that.”

  I slapped the palm of my hand against my forehead as realization hit. “Oh, fuck.”

  “What now?”

  “I only have two weeks of vacation.”

  “After all of that, the thing you’re most worried about is unpaid time off? We are so screwed.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Canada?” Ed asked. “This is a peace conference to decide the fate of the world ... and they’re having it in Canada?”

  “Pretty much what I said.”

  “Why can’t they ever do these things someplace nice, like the Bahamas?” Tom asked from his place on the couch.

  “Well, just off the top of my head, I’d guess sunny, ninety-degree beaches aren’t conducive to giant monkeys covered head to toe in foul smelling fur ... or vampires, for that matter.”

  “Guess I should start doing my research,” Tom said.

  “Research?”

  “Yep. Time to start eating Canadian bacon, drinking Molson, and finishing all of my sentences with ‘eh.’”

  That caused a chuckle amongst us.

  After it had passed, Ed said to me, “Idiotic or not, Tom does have a point about research.”

  “I’m all for a few beers.”

  “Not that,” he replied. “Well okay, not just that. I’m thinking we’d better start boning up on Bigfoot.”

  I started laughing again. When he questioned me, I told them about the whole Woods of Mourning thing. Soon we were all cracking up.

  Finally, Tom said, “Well then, this should be easy.”

  “How so?”

  “With Sally around, I don’t think pitching a tent will be a problem.”

  I laughed. “Just don’t let her hear you say that. She might break it off and feed it to Bigfoot.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “What the fuck are you doing?” Ed asked me two days later. He had barged into my bedroom/office to ask a question and found me staring at my monitor.

  “Dude, try knocking first!”

  “Please tell me you weren’t jerking off to ... what is that anyway?”

  “Research,” I replied distractedly, unable to take my eyes from the screen.

  “What the hell kind of research is this?”

  “Well, I decided to look up some info on Sasquatch.”

  “Sasquatch porn?”

  “Sasquatch erotica,” I corrected.

  “That’s wrong on so many levels.”

  “I agree. But when dealing with an unknown enemy, one should study them from all angles.”

  “I’m not sure some of those angles are even possible.”

  “Tell me about it. I guess Bigfoot likes them nubile. What did you want, anyway?”

  “For the life of me I can’t remember,” Ed stated. He sighed and then turned to leave. “Just wash your hands when you’re done, you fucking perv.”

  “Will do. Hey, want me to email you the link?”

  “Okay, sure,” he replied, closing the door behind him.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Soon after I had finished my ... err ... research, my cell rang. Hearing the tone, I immediately picked it up.

  “S’up, Sally?”

  “Hey, Bill.”

  Hearing a bit of an edge in her voice ... well okay, more of an edge than usual, I asked, “What’s the matter?”

  “Alex just sent me our travel arrangements.”

  “It was only a matter of time. Did he take care of Tom and Ed, like I asked?”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  “Cool. Then when’s our flight?”

  “About that...”

  “Don’t tell me I’m booked freight again, Sally. I swear to God, if that’s the case I’m going to...”

  “No, it’s not that.”

  “Okay then, what is it?”

  “There is no flight.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me. There’s no flight. We’re not flying.”

  “Then how are we getting there, magic?”

  “Car.”

  “Hold on a second,” I replied, quickly calling up Google Maps on my PC. “You do realize that it’s over two thousand fucking miles away, right?”

  “Don’t yell at me. Yes, I know that.”

  “Then can you explain to me why the hell we're driving across almost an entire fucking continent to get there?”

  “Complain to the Bigfeet. It was their idea.”

  “Why?”

  “According to Alex, since they’re hosting this thing, they get to set some of the ground rules. Apparently, not only do they hate civil
ization, but they can’t stand technology either. They consider it an affront against nature or some other bullshit. Stupid, shit-flinging assholes.”

  “Let me guess – airplanes are a great big affront to both nature and convenience, right?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “That makes no fucking sense. What do they think cars are, horses disguised with wheel wells?”

  “That was their concession to us. We’re allowed to drive in. However, flying would constitute a great offense to their chief, blah blah blah.”

  I sighed and began to rub my temples. One would think that a positive side effect of being a vampire would be no more stress headaches. One would be wrong in that assumption.

  “You do remember I don’t have a car, right?” I asked.

  “Of course. Kind of hard to forget your shortcomings.”

  “And I doubt Ed’s piece of shit will make it even halfway to Canada.”

  “Also true.”

  “Then how are we supposed to get there?”

  “I’m told they’re taking care of that.”

  “Why doesn’t that make me feel any better? Oh well, maybe it won’t be too bad. I doubt the Draculas would make their special envoy travel in anything less than style.”

  “Alex isn’t going with us.”

  “What?!”

  “He said he’ll meet us there. He has to leave early to get some of the preparations made.”

  “The fucker’s flying, isn’t he?”

  “He didn’t say, but if I were a betting woman...”

  “Which you are.”

  “Well, I will admit to enjoying a good game of roulette ... Russian or otherwise. But yeah, we’re getting fucked here and not in a fun way.”

  “Are you surprised?”

  “With you around? No, not really.”

  “Well hey, it could be worse.”

  “I’m going to be stuck in a car with your idiot friend for a week,” she replied, no doubt referring to Tom. “Pray tell, how could it be worse?”

  “They could be sending us up via dog sled.”

  “Bill, I hate to point it out to you, but the last several hundred miles of the journey aren’t exactly going to be jam packed with gas stations. We might just wind up getting there that way.”

  I sighed into the phone. This kept getting better and better.

  Driving in Style

  Fortunately for Ed and me, we had no lives. Thus, in addition to sick days, we both had about three years’ worth of unused vacation time accrued – almost two months in total. That being said, most employers tended not to be too understanding when you called them up last minute and told them you needed to disappear for several weeks. Jim wasn’t an exception. He pretty much flipped out, although it wasn’t exactly surprising. When two members of your team both decided that they needed an extended vacation at the same time, it probably only meant one of a few things: we were quitting; we were affirming our long denied love for one another and running off to a state that supported gay marriage; or we were setting off for a massive peace conference between vampires, Bigfoot, and whatever other weirdness the supernatural world had in store.

  Yeah, most employers probably don’t assume that last one. Considering the fact that my crush on his former assistant was supposedly well known within the company, Jim was probably giving himself a near aneurysm over the assumption that we were probably jumping ship.

  In an attempt to keep him from stroking out, we both offered to bring our laptops and at least attempt to get a little work done whenever we were within either WiFi or 3G range. Programming was really the furthest thing from my mind going into this clusterfuck, but we were going to be on the road for at least a week. There were doubtless going to be times when it was best to shut up and type, lest we face the possibility of Sally killing us all on the side of the road.

  That covered Ed and me. Tom didn’t work with us, though. Since the financial district wasn’t particularly known for their tolerance of slackers who disappeared for weeks at a time, I expected him to have to bail out. It was regrettable. Sure, Tom was a sexist moron even on his best behavior, but he was also one of only a handful of people I trusted to have my back. Still, his staying behind wasn’t a bad thing either. It would ensure that at least one of my friends lived to tell the tale.

  Alas, though, that didn’t come to pass. He came home the day before our journey was to start and announced that everything was taken care of.

  “They’re letting you take that much vacation?” I asked.

  “Nope,” he gleefully answered.

  “So what then?” Ed asked. “Did they fire you on the spot?”

  “Negative on that one, too,” he replied in that same infuriatingly cheerful tone.

  It was only after we threatened to beat the shit out of him that he finally relented and told us.

  “I’m scot-free,” he said. “I get to keep my job, not lose any vacation, and still come on this little getaway.”

  “How?”

  “Christy,” he explained. “Since this is a special occasion, the fate of the world hanging in the balance and all, she got her coven – who I might add are a hell of a lot more useful than yours, Bill – to work a little of their mojo.”

  “What did they do?”

  “They cast some kind of spell for her. I’m not sure the specifics, but she said it's some sort of mass hypnosis. Since I’m an official part of this peace process, she got them to include me, too. For as long as the spell is in effect, people at the office will randomly see other workers as me.”

  Ed and I both looked at each other, confused.

  “Say you’re talking to Bob at the water cooler. Well, even though you’re talking to him, you’d see me instead. Same with work. You hand an assignment to some other schlub and – poof – I get credit for doing it.”

  “Yeah, but the person who was supposed to be doing it gets fucked,” I replied.

  “Dude, this is finance. Someone is always getting fucked. It’s par for the course.”

  Though of dubious morality, Ed and I had to admit it was pretty damn clever. Psycho though she may be, there were definite perks to banging a witch. That she was indirectly helping me by aiding her boyfriend was probably accidental. However, it was still a plus in my column. I’d have to remember that later. Should Christy run afoul of an angry Sasquatch, well, I still might not help her, but at least I wouldn’t feed her to it. That had to count for something toward my karma ... maybe.