by Ian Hall
I glanced at her, but she still watched my profile as I drove.
“Lyman, I’m glad I’m on your side. Because right now, in my head, Alan McCartney hasn’t got a hope in hell of beating you.”
Boy when we got to the room, that bed felt good under my weary bones.
With the threat of both sides closing in on us, both Helsing and vampire, me and Lyman thought we should lay low for a while. Like a couple hermits we tucked ourselves into our hotel room for several days until we became a part of the furniture.
The first day passed really nice. We huddled under the covers and watched hours of daytime TV. Like me, Lyman was a huge sucker for the soaps. We laughed, hollered and got teary at all the very same parts. For that short time, he was the sister I never had.
Day two proved a little boring.
Lyman had been portioning out his meds; taking half-dosages, then even skipping every-other time. He got a little grouchy. I had to watch my shows alone while he sulked.
Day three…Lyman Bracks screamed like a little bitch. He’d gone from cool, to cordial, to tense as a guitar string.
Like looking at the negative of a familiar photo. You knew the scenery right down to the shade of green on the leaves. But all that nice detail became obscured, washed out by the reversed black n’ white. As the meds in his system wore off, I got to know that negative of Lyman all-too damn freaking well.
That boy needed his little magic pills. And soon.
I volunteered my services. It was either that, or snap him like a twig.
“I could always break into to Unicorps and snag you a bunch.”
His temper flared quick and condescending. “That place is specifically designed to keep your kind out. Like I’d be sitting here on my hands if it was just that easy? Give me some damn credit, Mandy.”
Grrr. Purely as an act of friendship, I let Lyman’s rudeness slide.
“I need someone from the inside,” he said after the silence got too thick.
His irritability proved contagious. I was a little too quick to set him straight.
“We don’t have anybody on the inside.”
Holy cow. The look he gave me! If eyes were swords, I would’ve been bled through. And his tone held a thinly veiled warning.
“Don’t be so quick to assume that, Mandy.”
Seriously - I wasn’t about to be pushed around by some half-breed vampire. Especially not some dweeb whose balls just dropped a matter of days ago.
“Can’t you look past your hard-on long enough to see Mary-Christine for what she is?”
Lyman came right up to me then, puffing himself up like some pissed off peacock.
“Okay…and just what is she, Mandy?”
I didn’t flinch.
“A wishy-washy, little drama-queen of a daddy’s girl, Lyman. That’s what she is.”
His response was immediate and vicious, “Better than some airhead cheerleader who got turned into a vampire because she couldn’t stop thinking between her legs.”
I wanted to kick those titanium testes right back up into his abdomen. Before my knee could react, my fist did. I nailed him good - right on the chin.
Any human on the face of the planet should have gone flying through the room. I mean, that had been a full-on, no mercy left hook from a freaking vampire. But, Lyman just shook it off like a flea had bit him.
Oh, shit.
Luckily for me, he didn’t strike back. I would have been a crater in the wall if he had.
Instead, Lyman took two very slow, very measured steps back from me. His eyes never moved from mine, though. They were glaring and cold.
I caved under the weight of them. My next words sounded meek in my ears.
“You’re really gonna ask her to do that for you?”
Lyman mellowed his tone as well. “What choice do I have? I have to trust somebody.”
“What? Suddenly you don’t trust me? What happened to ‘you and me against the world’?” I hated myself for being whiny.
“Don’t read too much into that.” It was definately a warning.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I’m not counting Mary-Christine out without giving her a chance. She’s my goddamn girlfriend, Mandy. If it’s me and anybody ‘against the world’- it’s me and her!”
Okay. So, he didn’t punch me back. But, what he’d said felt enough of a blow. I lay back, winded.
The one thing solid friendship I had, was this weird alliance with that vampire-Helsing freak. His friendship. Our solidarity. Now all the sudden, I got cut out of the “us” and it was just her and him.
“You’re a real bastard, Lyman Bracks.”
“Takes one to know one, Mandy Cross.”
I walked away from Mandy and began to pack my stuff to leave.
Then a bit of the old Lyman Bracks arrived in my head. Just like a train had pulled into the station, and I felt instantly clear-headed again. I took four steps towards her, and put my arms around her. It wasn’t full frontal thing, more like she stood sideways to me. Probably a good thing anyway.
“I’m sorry, Mandy.”
“So you should be,” she smiled. “Freaking jerk.”
“Let’s go back and pick up my car. We have work to do. We’ve got a Winslow vampire to put on a platter for Mary-Christine.”
Mandy didn’t say anything more, but she did pack her stuff pretty quickly.
Considering the teenage mess in the room, I left a forty buck tip on the dresser, and we set off for Cameron.
By the time we’d got to the gas station, I felt pretty shitty again. Inside, the same guy stood behind the counter on duty.
“Anyone come to look at it?” I asked.
The guy shook his finger in the air. “You said there’d be some more cash in it for me.”
I handed over another sixty bucks, not remembering exactly what we’d agreed upon. I just wasn’t up to the haggle. “Who came by?”
“Same day you left it, your mom and dad, wondering where you’d gone.”
I nodded. Dave and Roni Muscat. “My sister with them?”
“Nope, just the folks.”
“What you tell them?”
“Nothing, I just said nothing. I didn’t even mention the girlfriend with you.”
“Good.” On the counter stood a rack of vitamin packs. One pack a day. I grabbed ten, and slipped another forty over the counter. I walked to the back of the small store and took a couple of cold Diet Cokes from the fridge. “I think we’re settled now.”
“Oh, yeah.” He pushed the money deep into his pants pocket. “We’re fair and square.”
At least now I knew the car was bugged or something. Or they knew the GPS code from its days in Unicorps.
I got into my car, and it started first time. I waved to Mandy as she drove off, then I re-assembled my old phone. Of course, as soon as I got it switched on, I got a hail of messages from Mary-Christine. Duh. And two from grandma, telling me that if I didn’t call her soon, she’d come visit me again.
It would be about three hours ‘til she was done in school, so I started downing vitamins. I started on four packs to begin with, then decided to take one more pack every fifteen minutes until I felt better. My first few miles down the road to Flagstaff were crappy, but I soon began to feel the effects. Although the buzz felt nowhere near the Unicorps regimen, I was soon in much better shape than in the hotel room.
I did the dutiful grandma call while I drove. I virtually had nothing to tell her, I mean, I felt fine, I was doing ok with the schoolwork, and yes, I’d kept out of mischief. It turned out to be a grounding that I didn’t know I needed ‘til I had it. I made a promise to call her at least once a week. I mean, I wasn’t their only grandchild, but it couldn’t do any harm.
Once home, I settled into the kitchen, reading all the piled up mail.
Then my phone rang. Mary-Christine.
“Hi.” I knew what was coming, there seemed no point in trying to stop it.
&nbs
p; “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. Off with your girlfriend, huh? Lyman Bracks you’ve got some fucking explaining to do.”
She stopped, probably because I hadn’t tried to fight with her. “Mary-Christine, where are you?”
“I just got out of school.”
“Okay. I’ll explain everything.”
“Yeah, you’d better, you…..”
“Mary-Christine. Listen carefully. Do exactly what I say.” That seemed to take the wind out of her sails. “Don’t say a word. People might be listening, even on the phone, okay?”
A long pause.
“Yeah, I’m with you.”
“Right. Don’t mention the actual place out loud, but go to the place where you forced me to drink a beer. Do you understand me?”
“Forced you…yeah, I know where you mean.”
“Okay, I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. I love you.”
A moment’s hesitation. “I love you, too.”
I snapped the phone closed, then left it on the kitchen table. A quarter of an hour would give me just enough time to walk to the park where the incident had happened.
After walking halfway there, I felt certain that I wasn’t being followed. Mary-Christine sat on the very same bench that had determined me as a Helsing, so few months ago.
As I approached, she rose, crying.
I embraced her, and expecting a cold reception, got taken aback by her fervor. We kissed for what seemed like days. Although there was a chill in the air, her lips held a warmth that cushioned my senses to the white heat of her tongue. It lashed into my mouth like a rapier, slashing and probing. I returned it in kind, for many, many minutes, then raised my head, gasping and panting. Our eyes met, and in that split second, I knew my troubles were over. I had my Mary-Christine back.
“How are you?” she asked.
“I’m a little ‘blah’, but I’m okay.”
“Your meds finished three days ago. You had us all worried sick.” She patted her schoolbag. “I have some here if you need them.”
“I’ll take some soon, I found a viable alternative, but they’re not as good, obviously.”
At the opposite end of the park lay a McDonalds, and I led the way, hand in hand, still snatching kisses as we walked. I savored the whole thing, as I knew that the revelations about her father were not going to sit well.
I had my Mary-Christine back, but now I had to take her from her father, and that wasn’t going to be an easy task.
Lyman had gone back to Gregor (probably to make-out or make-up with Mary-Christine); I’d been sent on assignment to Harris. I had to find another vampire since Lyman went and shot the last one. I got all the fun.
Apparently, Sheldon Newell wasn’t the “right kind” of vamp; I needed to find one more atheistically pleasing, so Lyman’s timid girl wouldn’t wet herself upon sight. For a person born and bred into the slaying biz, Mary-Christine lacked that killer instinct. However, she had whining and moaning down to a science.
My thoughts were that she needed a newer vampire, one without decades - or centuries - of experience dealing with the Helsings. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have a prayer. If the Blanche vampires were recruiting in Harris then there should be a crop to pick from. They’d be young. Gullible. Vulnerable. And super horny.
At eleven-thirty in the morning, I strolled into the Harris High School Cafeteria like I owned the place. Just another new face amongst the throng. Smooth as silk, I collected my tray and went to stand in line.
I only had a minute of trouble when the lunch lady asked to see my student I.D.
“Oh…sorry…I stuck it in my locker with my binder…”
I paid her my sweetest “teen airhead” smile and she let me pass with an empty warning.
It was cold and rainy so the benches were packed inside. Concentrating on my undercooked tater tots proved next to impossible, shoved shoulder-to-shoulder with all those delicious-smelling humans. I thought ketchup would help, but the sourness reminded me of Helsings and then I completely lost my appetite.
To make matters worse, the chatter sounded damn near unbearable. My sensitive ears were sore and my head clouded from the noise. If there were any vampires in a twenty mile radius, my radar would not be able to pick them up. There was simply too much static on the line.
“They’re not gonna bite back if that’s what you’re afraid of.”
I heard the words and the small eruption of laughter that followed them. But, I had no idea the comment had been directed at me until the guy sitting across from me tapped my tray with his fork and said, “Hey…new girl…”
I looked across the table to a glowing, triumphant smile beaming over at me. He had the most adorable hazel eyes, round and pouty like a beagle. Brown hair. Good skin. Dimples. The boy oozed charisma and good humor.
My first thought: Alan McCartney, take two. But, one whiff told me this was no vampire. Just one massively HOT guy. I couldn’t take my eyes off him; so I just sat there, staring dumbly like when Lyman’s checking out my rack.
“Be nice, Chris,” said some pretty chick next to him. I noticed how she edged in closer, claiming her territory.
“I am being nice, Tory.” He scootched away from her a smidge, all the while still smiling at me.
I’m pretty sure I felt myself blush. But, I still couldn’t freaking speak.
“Where’re you from?” he asked.
Tory got bitchy, “What’re you - the welcoming committee all the sudden? How do you know she’s even new?”
Eyes still on me, he said, “‘Cause I think I would’ve noticed her before if she wasn’t.”
Ooh. Tory did not like that. She snatched up her tray and went stomping off; an entourage of sympathetically shocked girls followed her. Finally, I felt some breathing room at the table.
Not that I could possibly breathe under the weight of “Chris’s” smile. Damn.
My tongue remembered how to move at least. “You shouldn’t piss off your girlfriend like that.”
“Tory Bean is NOT my girlfriend,” he declared loudly, “but she’s been auditioning for the part since sophomore year.”
“I bet you get a lot of hopefuls like that.”
Holy crud. Now I flirted with the guy? Get a grip, Mandy!
My reward showed as a tint of pink on the apples of Chris’s cheeks. “A few.”
Okay, so Cupid had just ambushed me and I’d gotten caught up in some weird eye-lock with this insanely gorgeous human. I’m not sure why but it made me feel like a pedophile. So, I broke my eyes away from his and glared down at my tater tots like they could come to life any minute.
But Chris wasn’t gonna let it go that easily. “C’mon… where’re you from?”
“Dallas.” The random lie flew out my mouth, unchecked.
“And what brings you to Arizona?”
Uh…“Family business!”
He chuckled; some private joke, I guessed. “I’ve been hearing that a lot lately; new kids coming to town on ‘family business.’ I’m starting to think Harris is under some kind of hostile takeover…”
Before Chris could grill another lie out of me, we were joined by a couple beefy, thick-necked bodyguard types that slid up on either side of him. They didn’t have Chris’s looks or his charm but, they were still pretty damn interesting. In fact, they were vampires.
“Hey, guys. Look what we’ve got here - another newbie.”
Chris jerked his head at each of the guys in turn. “Tank and Dozer Mize - twins, in case you couldn’t tell; they just got to town a couple months ago. ‘Family business’…”
The Mize brothers greeted me with silent tips of the chin. Neither spoke but by their severe expressions, I knew they had me all figured out.
“Can’t really introduce you properly,” Chris said as if he were hosting a party, “since I don’t have your name.”
Saved by the bell. Literally.
Chris lifted himself up. Like a couple cult followers, Tank and Dozer did the s
ame.
“I’ll just call you ‘Dallas’ for now,” he told me. “If you get thirsty (he winked) after school, meet us down by the Brick Street underpass. My boys here will hook you up.”
All I could do was sit there and watch them walk away, asking myself one vital question:
“What the fuck was that all about?”
Love it when a Plan comes Together
In the sterile booth at the MacDonalds, with a tray of cold chicken nuggets between us, I set out my stall. Well, I apologized for the long buildup, but started back at the beginning; taking Mary-Christine through our investigation into Amos Blanche. I went through every detail in the safe room, and included every photograph I could. She looked bored, but nodded at the salient points.
Then I went through all the details of the encounter with Angela McCartney in the Mexican restaurant in Sedona, and the first mention of Thomas Jesus Candy. And how I’d connected the dots between the two.
Then I showed her my work connecting the two faces.
“You’re in no doubt?” I asked. Finally.
Mary-Christine took my hand over the table. “I’ve sat here for the last five minutes, and all you’ve done is recap. We both know that T.J. Candy is Amos Blanche.”
“I know. But I had to put it all in perspective.”
Then I told her of her father’s phone conversation with T.J.
I had never seen Mary-Christine’s face more serious. “I remember him leaving the room; he was gone for a while. Mom remarked on it when he got back”
“That’s it, and I need to know where you stand on this, Mary-Christine. I know I’m asking for you to go against your dad on this one, but we have to accept that he’s just plain wrong.”
We slowly began the walk home. Mary-Christine seemed on board with everything I’d told her, all but for one thing. She wanted to confront her father.
“I have to ask him his side, Lyman,” she said.
I wasn’t convinced it would end well, and I told her so, but as usual her stubborn side strode in and won the day. “Well, as long as you don’t go too far, I mean, we don’t want thrown out of the Helsings just because of this.”
