“But you staked them?” I asked, recalling enough of my vampire lore to know staking was supposed to be used on real vampires to trap them in their coffins.
“If they didn’t drink any vampire blood and transform, why stake them? And who’s we?”
The gnome ignored my questions.
“Where’s Brother Edward?” Renfield scanned the graves, his eyeballs bouncing, his mouth as taught as a wire cutting across his face.
“He’s in the tent.” I bobbed my head toward the tent.
The body-table was bare.
“He’s gone!” Bram said.
“And he’s bloody,” Roger said with a shiver.
“He did have blood on his lips, but his body was only down a pint. That’s why I culled him from the others,” Bram said, a mystified expression on his face.
Renfield grabbed at his belt freeing his gardening knife. “Edward must be staked! He is very dangerous!”
John held the Book of Names open for Bram to see. “Here’s Edward’s name and his birthdate.”
Bram read aloud from the page. “Edward Bella. According to this he’s twenty-five.”
“Did you take his body?” Roger spun the little guy causing Renfield’s knees to buckle. He fell to the ground sobbing, which led to a hacking cough. His face took on the appearance of a wet walnut.
“We did not take him and we did not stake him. He is the Comet’s dribble.”
Renfield cast a frantic glance about the graveyard. “We were about to stake him when his eyes opened. He moved so quickly, he was gone like that!” He tried to snap his fingers but his hands shook. The snap failed.
“The Comet dribbles?” I said.
“Every thirty years the Lugosi Comet passes over Loutish. It dribbles enough of its own blood to give birth to one new vampire. Edward is the dribble from this passing.”
Ick! Drool was not exactly the same thing as being bitten by sexy Frank Langella. Why didn’t Edward stay in the kitchen? Now we’d have to behead him and wad his neck with garlic. This would be worse than stuffing a Thanksgiving turkey. Gross.
“You said Edward was a nymphomaniac? So he’s not an innocent?” I asked.
“That depends on your interpretation of innocent. Edward came to the monastery to cleanse his desires. Accidents happen. A deviant may be dribbled by mistake.”
“How do you know so much about the Lugosi Comet?”
Renfield shook his head, reluctant to speak.
Bram put his hand on the little man’s shoulder. “You must tell us.”
“I am a life-long student and follower of Lee Christopher who first discovered the Lugosi Comet.”
Bump! Bump! Who was playing that music? I looked around but saw no orchestra.
Sitting in a puddle on the ground, Renfield gazed at the tombstones. “The spirals were useless. The poor brothers had no defense.”
My right eyebrow shot up. “What do the spirals have to do with this carnage?”
“The monks believed the spirals would repel the Comet.”
Roger caught my super-superior-highly-raised-right-eyebrow. Flower holders indeed. I was right, sort of.
“You keep saying we. Who are we?”
Renfield slammed his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean we.”
Bram stood to his full priestly height and looked down at the caretaker. “You must tell us now. Who helped you stake the brothers? You could not have done this alone.”
Renfield bowed his head. “Mina. The housekeeper.” He looked up; his eyes twin pools of panic. “Please don’t hurt her!”
Roger helped Renfield to his feet. “Why would we hurt her?”
“Mina because… well…”
“Just the two of you did this?” I looked out over forty open graves some with stakes visible even at a distance.
Roger leaned over and whispered in my ear. “Mina must be one powerful dame to have done this.”
“No shit. I mean no poop.”
Bram wore a drugged expression. Was he in a Transylvania trance? I couldn’t see any bites on his neck.
“We must question this Mina. Where is she?” I asked.
“I can question her,” Roger said.
“I can do it better. I’m the gentle one.”
Renfield looked like he was about to bolt.
“Grab him!” I said to Kit and Roger.
They lifted the caretaker off his feet just as he propelled into a roadrunner skit. His legs kept running even after the guys had him in midair.
“Now where is this Mina?” I said trying to sound tougher than I felt.
Renfield looked toward the monastery and then at Father Bram who seemed to be visiting la-la land. “She lives in the cellar under the sleeping rooms.”
Cellar. Great. Rats and mold.
“John and Paul, I’m deputizing you,” I said raising my spatula. “You’re the boss of them.” I pointed to the Louts who appeared to be in a grumbly mood.
Kit lifted his hoe in support of my deputization, and dropped his end of Renfield. The little man dangled from Roger’s arm.
Father Bram remained silent even as I commandeered his postulants.
Our odd party of vampire hunters marched into the courtyard following the bowl-legged caretaker to the monks’ cells.
“What’s in the cellar besides Mina?” I asked worried about getting my face wet with broken pipes or encountering holes in fabric.
“It’s a wine cellar. At one time the monks made wine to support the abbey. This was a common practice with friars since medieval times. Sadly the vines died in the last passing of the Lugosi Comet,” Renfield said. “Wine hasn’t been made here for over thirty years.”
Once again, we trod the uneven ground, the rotten leaves making for slippery footing. I held onto Roger and counted on Kit walking in back to catch me if I tumbled.
The cellar door opened into a rustic alley between the graveyard and the monastery. Perfect for Boris Karloff exits.
We picked our way down grit-slippery stone stairs. I followed Roger keeping my hands on his shoulders for balance. Kit stepped slowly behind me, the hoe in his left hand and his right at my side to catch me if I slipped.
The cellar reminded me of the last scene in Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark. The room went on forever with wine cask after cask as far as I could see into the darkness. There appeared to be enough wine to satisfy a dozen soccer-team moms for a year.
“Where is she?” I asked.
Renfield moved his hand in a hushing motion. “I’ll call her,” his voice was phlegmy. He cleared his throat.
I stood behind Roger for the sake of my belly. The tip of the spatula handle braced on his right shoulder. Kit edged his body close to my backside. I was expecting the Minotaur based on the hell the woman reeked in the graveyard.
“Mina! Oh Mina!” Renfield called in a singsong voice. “Come outenze!” Definitely a cuckoo clock dude.
I felt a chilly presence and the sound of hiccups, followed by a scratching sound like a trapped rat sneaking behind us. Roger, Kit, and I jumped, clinging to each other.
Bram turned slowly as if he knew who was coming.
Someone stepped out of the shadows.
“Mina!”
Chapter Fourteen
A four-foot tall porcelain doll with soft dark eyes, tiny fangs, and a cute black bob, materialized between two of the large wine casks. I made a note to get the name of her hairdresser.
The little vamp’s skin had never seen the Caribbean sun or the Indian Ocean; her complexion was flawless except for a sprinkle of freckles on the bridge of her nose. She wore a strapless dress with a velvet top and lace skirt. I joined Roger and Kit in a sigh, she was that pretty.
Mina shrieked at Bram and ran toward him. Her arms outstretched, her fingers clutching.
Roger launched himself at the little woman. With one hand she sent my fiancé flying into the first row of wine casks. He slammed hard and dropped to the ground, two casks rolled over him, a third
landed on his chest.
A barrel tussle ensued. Roger won. He scrambled to stand, leaned his butt against a pile of casks, and went for another roll-off. The score was even, barrels one, Roger one.
Looking like a wax figure from a religious theme park, Bram managed to bite his pale lip. Don’t bleed.
I licked my chops checking for tooth blood.
Mina had red drips from the corners of her cupid-bow mouth. She barely paused as she continued to advance on Bram. She grabbed him around the waist. It looked to be an attack.
My slow learner of a lover flew at the doll-girl again, evidently not recalling vampires possess supernatural strength.
The little vampire flicked him like a flea. Roger shot passed me, his brown wingtips barely missing my head. Kit caught him like a softball sailing over second base and dropped him to the floor.
Tears soaked the question marks in Bram’s eyes.
Mina held the priest and tipped her head like a little girl dancing with her daddy. “Bram! I missed you soooooo much!”
I couldn’t decipher his expression as it morphed into a kaleidoscope of emotions. He took a step back causing the vampire to release her hold and plop on her butt. She giggled and rolled to her side struggling to right herself. Each time she tried to prop her head on her elbow she missed, and clunked on the ground bursting into contagious laughter.
I caught the sniggers and Kit followed.
Giggle-pooper Roger was behind me. He whispered in my ear, “What the fu… udge?”
Bram took Mina’s hands as she stood. “I remember you,” he said.
She wobbled despite his grip. “Yesh…shs me, Mina.” She giggled and tumbled over again.
“Is she drunk?” Kit asked.
“No drunk. Just drank.” She shot him a sweet red smile and leaned forward falling against Bram.
Renfield wiggled his way between us and ran to her side. She leaned against him accepting his help but arguing. “My Brammy is here. I must hug him.” She glommed on Father Bram.
“Miss Mina was … is … a gypsy vampire,” Renfield said in a soft voice. “She has been weaned from blood to wine. At times she cannot hold her grapes but the effects soon pass.”
Clasping Bram, Mina turned and smiled at the little old man. “Every vampire should have a Renfield. Oy vey, the hangovers before he taught me the cure.”
She gazed up at Bram, love in her dark eyes. “Do you remember me? I was your nanny.”
I watched as recognition lit Bram’s face. “My Mina!”
He held her head to his cassock. I imagined his priestly self-control was being sorely tested as the little vampire pressed her face against his privates and sobbed with joy.
“You saved me from the Lugosi Comet,” he said. “I remember the story if not the exact rescue.”
“You were too young to remember. I carried you into the wine cellar just as the comet passed over.”
Renfield shook his head. “Mina did not make it in time. She threw you to me as I stood in the cellar door, but she sadly fell under the Comet’s dribble.”
The wizened old man looked at her with all the pride of a father. “She has not aged a day since that awful time when she became an undead being. And she has not tasted blood. She only sips the monks’ wine.”
A Tell-Tale Heart thrummed, echoing off the dense stonewalls. It belonged to Roger. He stepped forward and spoke in halting words, “Was the baby in a stroller?”
Hope mixed with fear for Roger. How many babies could have been out and about during the passing of the Lugosi Comet?
I suddenly knew why Bram looked familiar. He was a Jolley by birth.
With a nod of her head, Mina confirmed the wish that hung suspended on hope and prayers.
“My brother!” Roger said reaching for the priest.
Mina turned, facing Roger and protecting Bram with her back. “He’s mine. I saved him and raised him from a baby. I hid him from the monks for six years. I fed him leftovers from their cupboard and never once took his blood, but I could have.”
“I thought the monks knew about you.” I said. I was looking for holes in her story.
“Only Renfield knew at first. He helped us hide for a long time.”
“I was the caretaker of the monastery,” Renfield said. “Only I knew of the tunnels between the abbey and the village and the junction at the Van Helsing. That was how I kept them both at play during the early days. Hide and seek.”
“Hide and seek can get tiresome after a few years, even with the many tunnels under Loutish,” Mina said. “Bram was six when he grew bored with hiding in passageways and making pictures with glued noodles and corks. He wanted to run outside in the grass.”
“I remember,” he said seeming surprised at the memory.
Mina hugged him. “It was a pretty autumn evening. I’d forgotten about the clocks being set back. The monks should have been in the church for prayers, but they were in the graveyard. They discovered us playing tag.”
“Why didn’t your parents find him?” I asked Roger.
Bram and I looked to my poor fiancé, who was reeling, his eyes dewy. What must it be like to find the answer to your lifelong quest in a Vulgarian wine cellar?
Roger cleared his throat. “They gave up the search after five years. My father tried many times to breach the monastery walls, both by petitioning the Vatican and using mercenaries. We could never get the monks to communicate. My dad died of a broken heart.”
Roger studied Bram’s face, his own brilliant mind now shrapneled. “We had to assume the gypsies had taken him far away.”
I turned on Mina. “Why didn’t you try to find his parents once the comet was gone?”
She put her hands on her hips and flipped her bob at me. “I was a vampire! If I came forward they would have garlicked and beheaded me. Renfield was my only friend and my protector.”
Mina reached up and wrapped her velvet-sleeved arm around Bram’s waist. “When the monks first found us, I told them he was my brother. Renfield helped me convince them. The monks sheltered us and schooled Bram. When they forced him to go to Rome to be educated as a priest I thought I would never see him again.”
“It was safer for him in the Vatican,” Renfield said. The village has always harbored suspicions of the monks. It is only a matter of time before they torch the abbey and slaughter the friars.”
“Brother,” Roger said his eyes teary pinwheels.
Bram stepped back, struggling to process the full meaning of the word.
Roger’s life had been a quest for his baby brother, so Bram was always on Roger’s radar. He knew he had a brother.
Bram understood that he was an orphan raised by the Church. The existence of a brother clearly shocked him. The Jolleys had been raised in different worlds but despite all that had happened and all they didn’t know, they’d found each other.
The brothers embraced squashing the little vampire between them.
I leaned against a cask feeling weak at the knees.
Kit tugged at my elbow. “I don’t believe that vampire kept to her diet. Squirl said someone is drinking the blood of the elderly Louts. At least once a month they lose a senior citizen to empty blood vessels.”
Confrontation was my middle name. I stepped into the center of the circle. “I have it on good authority that someone is snacking on the old folks in the village.” I looked pointedly at Mina.
“Hiccup! Not me. I’m strictly a wine drinker. It’s good for your heart.”
She swung from Bram’s leg twisting like a pole dancer, her pale little hands in stark contrast to the priest’s black trouser legs.
“So if you’re a vegan vampire, are you the only bloodsucker in town?”
“I am the only vampire in Loutish!” she said. The force of her words spinning her around his leg. She hiccupped on her return swing.
“If Mina is the only bloodsucker, then who is Vlad the baby stealer?”
Chapter Fifteen
“Vlad?” Mina stuck her he
ad from between the Jolley brother’s legs. “Never heard of him.”
“He steals babies. Does that sound familiar?” I said.
“Only gypsies and vampires steal babies,” she snuggled back in the nest of legs.
That was reassuring—Mina being both a gypsy and a vampire.
Bram seemed to find the investigator-priest in himself. “Why did you stake the bodies?” his voice was soft but authoritative.
“If the Louts thought they were staked they might not garlic and behead the bodies,” Mina said. “We hoped someone would come from Rome to investigate before the villagers pulled the plugs. And it was you!” She hugged Bram and shoved Roger away.
“Who actually did the staking?” I asked.
“Me! I’m small but strong.” She flexed her bicep and giggled.
Bram stared at her while Roger stared at Bram. A stare-off ensued.
I figured this was a good time to ask a favor and break the surreal stupor surrounding the moment. “Father Bram, would you perform our marriage? An end and a beginning.”
Roger reached out and took my hand, then Bram’s. “It would be a perfect closure, brother.”
Bram cracked a smile and a lovely smile it was. I instinctively returned his grin. My almost brother-in-law flashed a frown when he spotted the gap in my front teeth.
I popped my hand over my mouth. “A slight accident,” I said from behind my palm.
Bram took my hand from my face. “I would be honored to bless your union. But first let us make arrangements to protect the monks’ bodies. They must be hidden until the Vatican Vampire Investigators arrive.”
Roger hugged his brother again. The Jolley boys performed a weepy guy-back pat hug.
Mina harrumphed, pulling them apart with her little fingers.
I stepped back and took stock of our situation. Thirty-nine or maybe forty dead monks needed concealing. What had I learned about hiding dead bodies in Florida real estate school? No so much. That was a Jersey thing.
Surveying the wine cellar, I caught Kit staring at me. He had such faith in my ability to pull rabbits out of hats. This would be one of my most weird hat tricks.
Claws of Doom Page 26
