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

by Rick Gualtieri

  Ed and Sally both had their guns. That left me. Thinking fast, I reached into one of the ash piles and plucked out a cattle prod. “I am now. Let’s go before anyone else shows up to rain on our parade.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  As before, I let Sally take the lead. Her nose was better attuned than mine. I could smell Bigfoot stink all around us, but she could pinpoint the direction from whence it originated. Even without Grulg to show us the way, I had little doubt we’d come across Sasquatch central soon enough. The only question was whether we could do so unseen. Considering that we were armed, I doubted they’d believe we were just out for a morning stroll. People (and other things) were funny that way.

  Fortunately, luck was on our side ... well okay, it probably wasn’t. I imagined that luck was probably waiting for just the right moment to deliver a massive kick to our teeth. What can I say? My almost-year of being a vampire had made me just a wee bit cynical about these things.

  Eventually we came across a fairly well-traveled trail. The number of oversized footprints leading both ways confirmed that we were on the right track. We followed it, trying to look as non-suspicious as possible – and probably failing at it.

  As we got closer and still didn’t see any sign of Turd’s people, my confidence in our plan grew. This time yesterday, the Sasquatch tribe had been mostly asleep. Considering the “big news” that was being bandied about for the conference, I was hedging my bets that the majority of Turd’s followers would either be resting up for tonight’s festivities or off preparing for it. Of course, if we wound up being wrong ... well, that would be bad.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “It smells worse than the time Tom and I went to that all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet,” Ed muttered.

  I had noticed it, too. The Sasquatch village was just up ahead. We decided to chance leaving the trail to perform a little reconnaissance. If things looked too hairy (hah, I kill me), we’d bug out, hopefully without being caught.

  “There,” Sally whispered. Sure enough, I could see crude huts ahead. All looked quiet. So far, so good.

  We found a patch of dense bushes that offered both concealment as well as a good view. We hunkered down and proceeded to watch.

  For several minutes, there was little of interest to see. I soon grew bored. I have no idea how cops on stakeout do it. I’d be there for five minutes, see nothing, and then radio in “Looks like he’s innocent,” before driving off to find a donut shop.

  I was just about to suggest we either find a new vantage point or start moving in to investigate, when Sally grabbed my arm and pointed.

  “What?” I whispered. “It’s just a hut.”

  “Watch and learn, stupid.”

  “Fine, but I don’t see ... holy shit!”

  “Pay dirt,” echoed Ed.

  On the far side of the village, about a hundred yards away, was an oversized, but otherwise unremarkable, hut. I figured it for maybe barracks or a meeting hall, nothing really interesting. However, there was one decisively odd thing ... namely the vampire stepping out of it. It was François. He was dressed as dapper as ever, holding an umbrella to shield himself from the sun. He looked like a prissy little fuck. If he was a mega-douche, though, he was still dwarfed by the giant shit that followed him ... a shit named Turd.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “Motherfucker,” I gasped.

  “We got the asshole,” Sally said, a wicked smirk appearing on her face.

  “Yep. Ed, get a photo.”

  “What?”

  “Take a picture.”

  “With what?”

  “Didn’t you bring your cell phone?”

  “Why the fuck would I do that? If you wanted photos you should have brought your own fucking phone.”

  Oh crap.

  “Sally?”

  “Don’t look at me.”

  “Goddamn it!”

  “Relax,” she said. “Look, they’re leaving.” Sure enough, they started walking off together.

  “How cute,” I replied. “It almost looks like they’re on a date.”

  Ed remarked, “For François’s sake, I hope he’s the pitcher and not the catcher.”

  I had to cover my mouth to keep from snorting laughter. Asshole.

  Finally, the unlikeable duo disappeared from sight, seemingly headed toward Turd’s hut. Who knows? Maybe François had a real case of jungle fever after all. Unfortunately, that brought on a case of the chuckles again.

  “If you’re through amusing yourself, let’s go,” Sally said.

  “Go where?”

  “Inside there, moron.” She indicated the large hut. “There might be some proof as to what those two are up to.”

  Oh, yeah. I had been so preoccupied with the thought of François riding himself some giant monkey meat, I had almost forgotten about that part.

  I mentally forced myself to focus. We were close. I didn’t know what awaited us, but I was sure we were on the precipice of something big. Whatever was inside that dwelling was important enough for François to gamble the fate of the world over. Surely the risk to our lives would be worth it to prevent global Armageddon.

  I just hoped we didn’t have to find out whether or not that was true.

  A Sticky Situation

  We took it slow and made our way across the outskirts of the village. No point in fucking this up when we were so close. Finally, we made it. We emerged from the brush behind our target.

  I pointed toward the back of the building. “Should we make a hole?”

  “No, it’s clear,” Sally replied. “Let’s try the front door. We just need to be quick about it.”

  “Okay. Ed, maybe you should stay here and cover our rear.”

  “And maybe you should suck my dick. No way am I missing this.”

  I glanced at Sally. She gave an unconcerned shrug, then started forward. At the edge of the clearing, she stopped and looked around. Seeing nobody, she crouched down and waved us forward. The three of us crept toward the entrance about twenty feet hence.

  I don’t think any of us let out so much as a breath until we were safely inside the structure. Once there, we stopped to listen. I didn’t hear any sounds, but just to be safe. I turned to Sally. She quickly shook her head, so we continued forward.

  A rough curtain of what looked to be various animal pelts stitched together concealed the back entryway. I pushed it to the side and stepped through. As I waited for my eyes to adjust to the darkness within, Ed flipped on the flashlight attached to his shotgun.

  It wasn’t a meeting hall or barracks for that matter – thank goodness.

  “It’s a warehouse,” I whispered.

  “Or a distillery,” Ed said.

  Crudely made wooden barrels filled the area, save for the far end. There, a series of large cauldrons rested over a bed of coals.

  “Do you smell that?” Sally asked.

  “Sasquatch ass?”

  “No, besides that. It smells ... sweet.”

  “Sugar-coated Sasquatch ass?” I ventured, earning myself an eye-roll.

  She stepped up to one of the barrels. “It’s coming from inside of these.” It was capped, but little things like breaking and entering weren’t a concern for a person such as Sally. Extending her claws, she dug them in until she found purchase, then easily pried the top off.

  Ed and I both stepped forward to look. Inside was a thick, viscous liquid.

  “What is it?” Ed asked.

  “Sally’s right. It does smell sweet.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” he rightly pointed out.

  “True enough,” Sally said. “Only one way to find out.” She reached forward and dipped two fingers into the substance. “Hmm, it’s sticky. I wonder...”

  “Wonder what?”

  Before either my roommate or I could say anything else, Sally’s other hand shot out and grabbed Ed by the throat. His mouth opened in surprised and she jammed her fingers into it.

  “There,” she said brightly. “Is it w
hat I think it is?”

  “What the fuck?” I growled. “That stuff could be...”

  “Syrup,” Ed said, licking his lips – the surprise evident on his face.

  “What?”

  “You heard him, simpleton,” replied a smarmy voice from behind us. “It’s maple syrup. Now kindly step away before you contaminate the whole batch.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  “So now you know,” François said. He and the massive form of Turd stood there, blocking our escape. “The question is, what do we do with you now?”

  “Ignoring the whole ‘what the fuck are you talking about’ part for the moment,” I replied, “how did you know we were here?”

  “Smelled T’lunta coming,” Turd answered. Oh yeah. We forgot about throwing ourselves into Sasquatch crap to cover our scent. Argh! What a bunch of fucking idiots we were. On the upside, at least we weren’t caught covered in shit. That would have been fairly embarrassing ... not to mention kind of nasty when Sally jammed her fingers into Ed’s mouth.

  “Fair enough,” I replied, trying to buy time ... for what, I had no idea. “Now we can get back to my main point: what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “As if you didn’t know.”

  “Actually I don’t,” I said honestly.

  “Don’t try and...” François stopped and looked thoughtful for a moment. “You really have no idea?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me neither,” Sally replied.

  “I got nothing,” Ed added.

  Turd growled and took a step toward us. “They lie!”

  Oh crap. Even armed as we were, we stood absolutely zero chance against both of them together. François appeared willing to talk, but if Turd decided we needed to die a grisly (and sticky) death, I was willing to bet that François would be more than willing to lend a hand.

  Thinking quickly, I decided to do what I did best when confronted by deadly hell-beasts ... bluff my ass off.

  “We’ve already done this dance, Turd,” I snarled, taking my own step forward ... coming disturbingly close to being within his reach. “You lost. Try me again and I’ll chew you up and spit you out like the little shit you are.”

  Hold on. Did I just imply that I eat shit?

  To my incredible relief, though, Turd actually hesitated. It gave Sally and Ed both a chance to level their respective weapons at him, hopefully adding to my threat.

  Still, if Turd smelled us coming, I had little doubt he’d soon catch a whiff of our desperation. I needed to keep talking and hope for a break.

  “Is it really worth it, you two? Seriously, you’d both risk war over ... syrup?”

  “War?” François spat. “You honestly don’t know what this is about, do you?”

  “That’s what we said.”

  “Turd, stand down. I don’t think that will be necessary.” The monstrous ape turned toward him with a glare, to which François quickly added, “Please, your mightiness. It behooves none of us to resort to bloodshed ... for now.”

  Mollified, Turd relaxed and stepped back. I wasn’t sure if François was genuinely afraid of him or just kissing his hairy ass, but whatever the case, it worked. I nodded to my friends and they lowered their guns. This was the break we were hoping for. Now we just had to make use of it. The trick was going to be getting these two psychos to talk and then figuring out some way to make a break for it. I tried thinking back to my high school chemistry classes. Was maple syrup explosive? Nah, probably not.

  “There will be no war, Freewill. There was never going to be,” François said in a confident tone.

  “So then why the hell are we all out here in Bumblefuck, Canada?” Sally asked, not really helping things.

  “Stupid T’lunta. You here because Turd is smart. I know worth of sacred trees. Worth that others will pay dearly for.”

  “So ... you want to be a lumber baron?” I asked, confused.

  “No!” François exclaimed. “My God, you are dense. I’ve already said it. The syrup, it’s worth its weight in liquid gold.”

  My friends and I exchanged dubious glances with one another. I was fairly sure none of us had been expecting that. Hell, I suddenly wasn’t sure that we hadn’t somehow walked onto the set of some weird-ass reality TV show. This was almost too fucking surreal to be happening.

  “So let me get this straight,” I said, indicating the barrels behind me. “This whole thing: the conference, the threat of war, everything ... is all so you two can corner the worldwide syrup market?”

  “He who controls the maple, controls Canada,” François replied, an avaricious gleam in his eye.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “Foolish child, do you not know the value of that which you stand before? Why, in your country alone it’s a six billion dollar market.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes!” he cried, the crazy coming to the forefront.

  “So all that shit from the other day, the ritual combat and all was a setup?” Sally asked.

  “Quite true.”

  “But what about Turd’s mate?”

  At this, Turd chuckled. “Turd have many mates. She was least favorite.”

  Ed shook his head. “Harsh, dude.”

  “All’s fair in love and war,” François replied with a sneer. “There are always bound to be pawns in any chess game. Take the Khan, for instance. The fat fool dared occupy my rightful seat on the First Coven.”

  “That was all part of this, too?” I stammered, not quite willing to believe a syrup-derived plot could be so far reaching. This shit would blow Scooby-Doo’s mind.

  “Of course. We needed a way to bring all the parties to the negotiating table. He was a more than acceptable casualty.”

  “And now that we know, we get to be acceptable casualties too, right?” Sally asked, gripping her gun tighter. “Just how I always wanted to check out – killed by Aunt Jemima.”

  “So that’s how it’s going to be then, eh?” I asked, readying myself for an attack that was probably only moments away.

  “There’s no need for that,” François said calmly. “Unless you force my hand, that is. Killing the tramp and the human would be inconsequential. However, killing the legendary Freewill would lead to uncomfortable questions. I would just as soon not deal with such.”

  “But you have to know I’m going to rat you out,” I replied.

  “Will you?”

  “Uh, I’m pretty sure I just said I would.”

  “That would be a shame. Then I couldn’t offer you a share of the profits in exchange for your silence.”

  There was a pause in the conversation. Did this dickhead just offer me a bribe? He must’ve thought we had rocks in our head to...