Sucker (Para-noir-mal Detectives Book 1)

by Mark Lingane

  I noticed he was leaving out information about any kind of wife.

  He twitched nervously. "Then several weeks before we were to move I met this young lady, Milli. Wow, she was an atom bomb." He made a movement with his hand with the accompanying explosive sound effect. "She made the day sparkle and the nights purr. I was too old for her, but when a vision like her is around it's easy to forget you're not the person you once were. The mirror lies, and we get carried away with our dreams."

  "Or fantasies." Still nothing about a wife. I guessed that meant something bad had happened between them.

  "Milli started to become friendly with my daughter, Denise. At first I didn't mind, as it kept Milli nearby, and Denise seemed happy for the first time. But they began to get a little too friendly. Holding hands, whispering in each other's ears, wrapping their arms around each other, staying up all night giggling. That's fine when you're a teenager, but when you're an adult it's a bit ... unseemly."

  I shrugged. "I don't judge."

  "Well, I've lived in a different time and world, with different expectations of behavior. Milli began to change, like she was jealous when Denise was near anybody else. And then Denise began to change, fading away, going pale and quiet, not being able to get out of bed. She started to have nightmares about strange creatures and would only calm down if Milli was next to her."

  At this point I started to take real notes.

  "I called the doctor, but he said she was fine, she only needed to rest. I called in the specialists"--he hesitated stumbling over his words, still wringing his hat in his hands--"but each shook his head and walked away. Each one had a darker and even more fantastical explanation than the other. None were able to help, but they all held out their hands for a supportive donation."

  He coughed and asked for some water. I ran him a glass from the rusty kitchen tap.

  "In the end I called in a priest, and he was the biggest joke of all. He said her life was being sucked away by evil demons from the netherworld. He asked if there was someone new in her life. He told me that person was probably a demon or creature of the night. What do you do with information like that? When all the experts fail and you're left with the ramblings of a crazy man, what do you do?"

  I stopped writing and looked into his imploring eyes. "Believe in science."

  "Even when it's failing you, and it's your daughter who's dying? I was coming down to the capital and Denise was so excited about meeting someone else who had the same life experiences. If I'd pulled her away from Milli she might still be alive today."

  I had heard this before. The cogs suddenly started clicking into place. I sat back and put down my pen. I shook my head at my own sluggishness. I leaned forward and leveled my finger at him.

  "You know Laura Mallory."

  30

  "Yes. How did you know that?" He took another nervous sip from the glass. His face took on a waxy sheen, and he'd broken out in a light sweat under the stress.

  "I know Laura."

  His face fell, and clattered to the ground, weighed down by the guilt of failed promises.

  I tore the page from the notebook and started again, this time paying attention. "Where did you meet this Milli?"

  "She was in town attending a relative's funeral. I asked who the deceased was, because in a small town you get to know everyone. She said the relative was Mircalla Karnstein. I'd never heard of her so I let it pass. She looked like a dream come true, which made everything else irrelevant."

  "Did you chase up this Mircalla?"

  "Not at first. Milli got a bit funny when I asked and she threatened to leave, so I backed off the inquisition."

  I sighed. He had some cockamamie story about a woman with a half-baked name, with the most desperate, and unbelievable, reasons to talk to me. He was acting like an idiot and expected some miracle cure from me. I put down my pen and folded my arms.

  "Why are you here?"

  "I've run out of options. I hate my life in all possible ways. I've got two options. They said you could help people forget."

  "Me? Who said that?"

  "Milli."

  "I don't know your Milli." I leaned forward and stared at him, watching his face.

  "She knows you. Not where you are, but she said she's been searching for you and had been all her life. And she said you and her were going to fix things."

  "Never heard of her, never met her."

  "You do know her. I have a photograph." He reached into his jacket and pulled out an old sepia photograph that looked deliberately arranged, and placed it on the desk in front of me. "She carried it around with her. I sometimes caught her staring at it when she thought she was alone."

  I picked up the photograph and looked at it. It wasn't a mirror; I didn't get the impression that I was looking at myself. I threw it back at him. He scooped it up delicately and placed it back in his wallet.

  He still had a crush on this woman. It flashed across my mind that he might see me as an obstacle between himself and Milli.

  "I caught her sleepwalking once with it clutched to her chest. She didn't know I was following. Sometimes police training can be useful."

  "What happened?"

  "We have a big house with three floors and several balconies. The south end, where Denise and Milli slept, overlooked Monday Forest. One night I watched Milli leave their bedroom, walk out onto the balcony and stare up at the moon. She'd done that a couple of times. One night when she went out on a strange ritual, I crept into their bedroom with an old sword and hid in the closet."

  "A sword?"

  "I just wanted to scare her, not kill her."

  "I've found that swords can kill."

  "I must've waited an hour before I heard the bedroom door open. Even though it was a full moon, it was exceptionally dark in the room. Then I heard the door lock. I felt her pass the closet, a gentle breeze, and I kicked the door open. I don't know exactly what I saw, but it looked like a great winged beast. I charged at it, and as it turned it seemed to turn into Milli. I put it down to the dark, and fatigue playing tricks with my mind. She shrieked at me. She ran away that night, leaving everything she had behind. Before the morning, my daughter was"--the word caught in his throat--"dead."

  He licked his lips nervously. The guy was a story of monsters and swords. I wished he was still drunk. Then I could buy the monolog and see some sense. And yet ...

  "I went through the things she'd left behind," he continued. "The photograph was one of them. There was also a piece of paper with the name Karnstein written on it. I checked the records. There had been a Karnstein hundreds of years ago. There was an address, and something written in a foreign language, something I hadn't seen before. I went down to the church and searched through the graveyard. I met the gravedigger, whose family had been running the place for generations. There were numerous interesting records, but they were based on popular thought rather than documented evidence. The gravedigger related a story written down by one of his ancestors, saying that the tomb was relocated long ago by the town hero, who vanquished Karnstein and her daughters, who haunted the region."

  "Vanquished?"

  "I had questions about that as well. They were words, stupid words, from the minds of the uneducated."

  "Yeah?"

  "Vampires."

  I rolled my eyes.

  Derek nodded.

  "It's a fine fairy story, but--"

  "I've done some research, if you're interested."

  I shook my head.

  "Not even if it involves you?"

  "Everything involves me these days." I stood up. He had unfinished business with Laura, and I needed some help from someone from the right side of the sanity tracks. One thing still bothered me. "How can I make you forget?"

  Derek shrugged. "I suspected you might be a hypnotist, or one of those old herbalists who knows some strange concoction. I thought presenting my story to you would let you see how desperate I was to leave the past behind."

  I sighed. I grabbe
d him by the collar. I wasn't going to let him get away with his stupid mistakes. I was going to cement him into the past he let happen.

  "Laura needs you. Come with me."

  "She needs help?"

  I nodded. I didn't want to tell him her symptoms, mainly because in my own head it opened up a whole bunch of questions that had no sane answer. "I'm looking for someone who cares," I said. I pulled him out the door and we made haste back to her apartment.

  She was in a bad way. Her face was pale and hollow. Derek's face nearly matched Laura's.

  "This is what my daughter looked like before she ..."

  He couldn't finish and I couldn't blame him. Looking at Laura like this filled me with the same whirlpool of grief. She opened her eyes and looked at me. She held out her hand and I grasped it tightly. I sat next to her, stroking her head and tending to her fever. The time ticked past, and Derek came and went with water and towels. I steadfastly held her hand and listened to her delirium.

  There was a knock at the door. I looked at Derek.

  "I called a specialist doctor," he said. "Someone I thought could help." He looked geographically guilty when he spoke.

  "The telephone is working?" I said.

  I went to the front door and swung it open. There was a nurse standing there, straight out of the pages of a penny dreadful. Her white skirt was so short it barely covered her secrets. The front was unbuttoned so far I wondered why she'd bothered. Her white mobcap, emblazoned with a red cross, held back the masses of black hair. I knew those curves.

  "Ja, I am the doctor that vas called for. Vere is the patient?"

  I looked at her. She looked back. Her gaze didn't break. I had to give her credit for the sheer audacity.

  "Quick. You must lead me to the patient urgently. I demand it." She clicked her fingers in the air.

  I led her through the impressive apartment into the bedroom, to the pensive Derek and a barely conscious Laura. Derek's face lit up like he'd won the lottery, then fell as he took in the doctor's outfit.

  "You're covered in a lot of blood for a doctor."

  "I am the old-fashioned kind." Her eyes dropped to Laura. She moved to the bed and placed her palm on Laura's forehead. "Ah, the poor girl. I have seen this before. I must perform my tests quickly to see how long she has."

  "Please don't phrase it that way," Derek said.

  "Ve must face the grim reality."

  She placed a large leather case on the bed and flicked open the latch. She pulled out various pieces of archaic equipment, and an aggressive-looking medical apparatus that she placed on the dresser. The last item out was a size-nine syringe. She held it skyward in one hand as she opened Laura's eyes and examined them closely.

  "You're not going to stab that into her eye," Derek said. He had a dread expression plastered across his face.

  "No." She ran her medical eye down Laura's body and then returned her close attention to her face. Without looking up, she continued. "I am ascertaining the best place to extract a sample. Of blood. Not the other kind."

  Satisfied with her examination, she straightened and lowered the syringe. She took a swab from the case and poured some medicinal alcohol onto it. A quick wipe on Laura's neck and she plunged the needle in.

  "I must varn you ..." she started. A fountain of blood spurted up and hit Derek in the face. "There is sometimes leakage. But don't panic, you probably von't be infected."

  Derek's face went into an apoplectic spasm as he tried in vain to shield himself. The spurt stopped and he wiped his face down with his handkerchief. The large syringe started to fill. He sighed. Another short jet squirted up and hit him in the face. He spluttered and wiped his face down again.

  The doctor filled another syringe. Her face was full of concentration. She coughed, and another small jet landed in Derek's eye.

  "Sorry," she said.

  She filled another syringe. Derek opened his mouth and managed "!" as yet another jet of blood squirted into his open mouth.

  "I vouldn't svallow that, if I vas you."

  He spat out the blood into his bloodstained handkerchief. He rubbed it over his face, leaving more blood on than it cleaned off. "Could you please not smile while you're doing that?" he said.

  "Sorry, I vas unavare."

  She now had several small vials of blood. She put each one into the apparatus, which spun the vials. Then she crushed leafs and herbs into each one. I recognized garlic. She stood back and looked at the array of equipment perched on the dresser. She ran her eye over the line of red vials, her face distorted in the cylinders.

  "Now ve vait."

  "Doctor?" I said.

  "Ja?" Her focus remained fixed on the experiment in progress.

  "May I speak with you?"

  "Speak avay, young man."

  "Follow me, please." I indicated for the demented medic to follow me. Everywhere in this apartment was open, allowing nowhere to have a discreet conversation. I went into the only room with a door.

  "You vant to speak to me in the bathroom?" she said.

  "Angelina, why are you here?"

  31

  "I do not know of this person you call Angelina."

  "Stop it. I know it's you."

  She folded her arms, which didn't help the cause of containing her escaping cleavage. "Very well. He called me. He needs my help."

  "He's looking for a doctor." I looked her costume up and down. "By the way, that's the worst disguise ever."

  "I am a doctor. I studied eternally for my PhD and I'm widely recognized in my field of expertise. The clothes have nothing to do with my ability."

  "A medical doctor."

  "Pah, what do they know?"

  "A lot about medicine."

  "She doesn't need medicine. She needs me. She needs to be healed. Spiritually. She's been syphoned by a sucker, and she'll turn into one of them if we don't save her. What's worse, now she's a target. Remember I said they never stop until you're dead."

  "But she wasn't like you."

  "There's more to purity than inexperience in the bedroom. It's about the heart and the blood that pumps through it."

  I glared at her.

  She placed a hand on my arm. "You need to trust me. Please. Just go along with me."

  "But this is Laura."

  "So? Is she so important?"

  I wanted to ask if breathing was important, if the sun rising in the morning was important, if the universe was important. In the end I answered with a simple nod. It was all I needed to express.

  She looked into my eyes and smiled. "I'll do what I can. You helped me, now it's my turn to help you."

  I edged past her to make my way out. She stood without moving, resolutely stuck to the spot, a sad expression on her face.

  "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, I just need to use the facilities," she said, pointing to the facilities. She started to unbutton what remained of her costume.

  I hurriedly closed the door. A few moments later there was a flush and she reappeared.

  "She needs to replace the roll."

  We went back to the bedroom.

  "Now, vere vere ve?"

  I indicated the various vials on the dresser that were turning a multitude of colors. She looked at them and shook her head sternly.

  "That's not a cure," I said.

  "She cannot be cured. She must be killed at the moment of her turning." She looked at me. "The instant she is taken to the dark side, you must drive a stake through her heart."

  Derek looked shocked. "You cannot be serious."

  "It's not going to happen."

  "Othervise she vill spend all of eternity in searing agony."

  "There must be a cure," Derek cried.

  "No one has ever survived once the turning has begun. There is no proof that anything vill vork."

  "Proof?" That was a strange word to use.

  She let out a sigh and feigned melodrama into the corner of the room. "There is only one thing that can cure her, and it is all mytholog
y." Angelina, the badly disguised medic, raised her finger. "And that is the blood of an angel."

  There was silence.

  Derek looked at her. "Yes?" he said earnestly.

  "Yes, the blood," Angelina said passionately.

  "We get the point. How exactly does the blood of an angel cure her? Does she have to drink it?"

  "Nein! Don't be disgoostink." She raised her hand in front of us. Her fingers uncurled as though releasing a delicate bubble. We both stared into her palm. "Under the full moon, in the markings of the ascent, she must have sex with ..." She leveled a finger at--

  "Me? Why?"

  "It is written. Then her wrists must be slashed in the moment of ascension of desire."

  "I'm not sure that drinking blood is worse than what you're describing," Derek said.

  She gave him a sideways glance. "It depends," she drawled, "on how good the sex is." She looked at me. "And to make sure you are vorthy, I vill have sex with you first. I must make sure you are capable of completing the act appropriately. All in the name of science."

  "No, I won't do it."

  "Fine. But if her soul is lost forever and she burns in eternity in the netherworld, you only have yourself to blame."

  I strongly reiterated, with a two-word response, my disinterest in conjoining with a madwoman.

  "Are you sure?"

  "Do you have a gun?"

  "Nein."

  "I'm prepared to risk it."

  "Fine. Be like that."

  "Why sex?" Derek said.

  "As I said, it's her little death, the moment of freedom of the body. When she ... dies," she said, raising her eyebrows, "her heart will open and the evil can be drained away."

  I looked down at the bed. "She's hardly in the mood."

  "This is not a dinner date. Ve are talking about saving the vorld."

  There was a pause. "I thought we were saving Laura."

  "Ah ... ja, that too."

  "You appear to be hiding something from us. No one mentioned saving the world."