The Vampire Hunters: Book I of The Vampire Hunters Trilogy

by Scott M. Baker

  A knock at the door broke into Drake’s thoughts. “Come in.”

  Alison stuck her head inside. “I just wanted to remind you that Jim wants to show us his latest gadgets when you have a minute.”

  “I’ll be right there.” Drake logged off his computer, took a puff on his cigar, and joined Alison.

  Jim was waiting for them when they came upstairs. He stood in front of the work bench, shifting his weight from one foot to the other like a nervous schoolboy about to give his first class presentation. He nearly sprang to attention when he saw them approaching. Drake could tell that Jim desperately wanted to impress them.

  “Okay, kid,” Drake said in as supportive a tone as possible. “Show me what you got.”

  “Yes, sir.” Jim stopped short, realizing he sounded too formal. He gestured for the others to join him at the work bench. First were three instruments that looked like large cellular phones. He picked up two of them, handing one each to Drake and Alison. “I upgraded our communications system. The cell phones were too inconvenient and unreliable, and you could only talk to one person at a time. So I bought us a set of Midland radios. These have a range of ten miles, more than enough for what we need.”

  Drake fiddled with the controls. “But aren’t these like CB radios? Won’t anyone be able to listen in on us?”

  “Not with these. I’ve calibrated them and enabled the privacy codes, so only you, Alison, and I will be able to communicate through them. I also have belt holders and microphone headsets, so you can use these just like you did your cell phones.”

  “Not bad.” Drake put his radio down and picked up an instrument that looked like a hand-held telescope. “What’s this?”

  “A night vision scope with a built-in infrared detector. I figure in our line of work we’ll be traveling in some pretty dark places, and I like to know what’s around me.”

  Drake nodded in approval. “The night vision will come in handy. But since vampires are already dead and don’t generate heat, we won’t get much use out of the infrared part.”

  “A vampire at rest would have the same temperature as its surrounding environment. But when on the hunt, a vampire is moving and generating friction, which creates energy, which raises its temperature. Much the same way as a running engine generates heat. So I made some modifications to the infrared sensors to detect these minor variations. They should show up as light green on the display.”

  “Impressive.” Drake meant it, and he did not impress easily. “Have you tested it out yet?”

  Jim’s enthusiasm waned slightly. “It works against objects in the lab that I heated to a few degrees above room temperature. I won’t know how effective it is against vampires until we test it in the field.”

  “You’ll get your chance to do that soon enough.” Drake handed the scope back to Jim. “Anything else?”

  “Oh, yeah.” The enthusiasm returned to Jim’s voice. He put down the scope and picked up a coil of thick wire with a metal ring at each end. Holding one ring in each hand, Jim uncoiled the wire to its full length of two feet, then twirled it in front of him. “I’m especially proud of this. It’s a commando saw used to cut through wood, bone, and soft metals. It’s made of eight woven strands of stainless steel which I’ve sharpened to a fine edge. Let me show you.”

  Jim stepped over to a small table onto which had been attached a perpendicular wooden spike approximately two inches in diameter and three feet in length. A watermelon had been impaled onto the spike. Jim draped the commando saw around the watermelon’s circumference, then rapidly drew his arms to the sides. The wire sliced through the watermelon and sheared through the spike, lopping the top half onto the floor. Jim recoiled the commando saw. He turned to Drake and Alison, a wry smile on his face.

  “Very nice.” Drake walked over to the half of the watermelon still mounted on the spike and ran his finger along the wood’s severed surface. The cut was smooth. “I suppose this would be just as effective on the undead?”

  “It should. It’s the closest approximation I could get to a human neck without using a real corpse.”

  “I could get you one if you really need it,” said Alison.

  Jim chuckled, only to realize she had not been joking.

  Drake examined the commando saw. “How do I prevent from castrating myself with this?”

  “I have a case for it.” Jim took from off the work bench a black leather pouch large enough to carry a portable CD player. He unbuttoned the lid and lifted it up. “The rings attach to a Velcro patch near the top so you can get to them easily. The saw will uncoil as you pull it out. Then you get yourself some head.”

  Alison suppressed a laugh. Drake tried to look as if he disapproved. “What else do you have?”

  Jim picked up a Glock-23 semiautomatic pistol and handed it to Drake grip first. “I’m especially proud of this.”

  “A 9mm pistol?”

  “Actually, it’s a 40 caliber. Has more stopping power than a 9mm.”

  “Not against a vampire.” Drake placed the pistol back on the work bench. “Bullets don’t faze them.”

  “Normal bullets don’t faze them.” Jim removed the magazine from the Glock and handed it to Drake. “Check out these babies.”

  Drake took the magazine and popped out a single bullet into his hand. It looked normal enough. A 40 caliber round with a brass head, the tip of which had been covered with a daub of wax. “Hollow points?”

  Jim nodded. “Filled with holy water.”

  Alison whistled between her teeth and stepped forward. She took the round from Drake and examined it. “How did you accomplish that?”

  “Easy. I just drilled a small hole in the hollow point, filled it with holy water, and sealed it off with hot wax. The result is a nasty little weapon that may not kill a vampire, but it’ll sure hurt like a son of a bitch and give them something to think about.”

  “Very impressive.” Drake passed the bullet back to Jim. “How many of these do you have?”

  “Only forty rounds so far. Just enough for one magazine for each of the four Glocks we have. Two for you, two for Alison. But I can easily make more.”

  “Do it.” Drake leaned against the work bench. “Anything else?”

  “Just one more thing. It’s my pride and joy.” Jim reached over and removed a large piece of cloth from the work bench, revealing a crossbow. He picked it up, making sure he pointed it away from the others. “This has one hundred fifty pounds of thrust. More than enough to drive a stake through a vampire’s heart. I’ve replaced the aluminum bows with ones made out of willow. I also mounted a laser scope on the sights to improve accuracy. Do you want to try it out?”

  Jim handed the crossbow to Drake handle first. He gestured to the far wall to a life-sized targeting dummy made of burlap stuffed with straw and mounted spread eagle on a wooden frame. A red circle three inches in diameter marked the location where the heart would be. Drake switched on the laser scope, pulled back on the cables, and placed a wooden arrow in the barrel’s groove. He raised the crossbow, centered the laser beam in the middle of the red circle, and slowly pulled back on the trigger until the bolt released. The wooden arrow sailed through the air with a swoosh and plunged into the target dummy. Eight inches below and to the left of where the laser beam illuminated.

  “Shit,” Jim mumbled under his breath.

  “What happened?” asked Alison.

  “The scope isn’t properly sighted,” said Drake.

  “No. It’s sighted properly. I’ve fired it successfully a dozen times with the aluminum arrows.” Jim took the crossbow and placed it back on the bench. “The problem is the wooden stakes. They’re not aerodynamically sound. I still have a lot of work to do on them.”

  “Don’t worry about it.” Drake patted Jim on the shoulder. “You’ll work out the glitches. And the rest of this stuff is great. We’ll use it tonight.”

  “Tonight?” asked Jim.

  “Yeah.” Drake picked up two of the Glocks and looked them over.
“Do you have shoulder holsters for these?”

  “I have two for each of you.” Jim pointed absentmindedly to the gun safe in his office, then returned to the main topic. “But didn’t we just go hunting the other night?”

  “We did. But tonight is Friday night. Everybody hits the streets to party. For vampires it’s like the buffet at Shoney’s.” Drake placed the guns down. “Don’t worry, kid. You’ll do fine.”

  “Thanks,” said Jim.

  Drake turned to Alison and gestured toward the weapons on the work bench. “Are you going to outfit yourself with any of these?”

  “Just the radio.” Alison smiled. “It’ll make it easier to keep track of you.”

  “You’re not interested in anything else?” asked Jim, unable to hide his disappointment.

  “Nothing personal. When I fight vampires, I prefer to rely on my own skills rather than fancy weapons.”

  Drake shrugged. “Okay. Set me up with a pair of Glocks in shoulder holsters and a commando saw. And prepare the infrared scope and the radios. Then go home and get some rest. We’ll meet back here at eleven.”

  Leaving Alison and Jim to begin preparations for that night’s hunt, Drake went back downstairs. As he entered the reception area, he noticed a young woman seated on the sofa across from Alison’s desk. She wore a pink dress with a small slit up the left side and matching heels, which accentuated her shapely legs. The rest of her figure was not too bad, either. She had been reading something jotted into a small notebook, but lifted her head upon hearing Drake. Drake recognized her from the webpage photo as Jessica Reynolds. Jessica stood to greet him. Drake quickened his pace, wanting to get the upper hand.

  “Good morning, Miss Reynolds.”

  “Good morning,” Jessica said haltingly. She was caught off guard. “How did you know?”

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Drake interrupted. “You are definitely more attractive than you sound on the phone.”

  “Thank you.” Jessica quickly regained her composure. Stepping forward, she offered her hand. “You must be Drake Matthews.”

  “Please, just call me Drake.” He took her hand. “I guess I don’t have to ask why you’re here.”

  “I’m just taking you up on your offer.”

  “My offer?”

  “Yes,” Jessica said graciously. “Last night you said you didn’t give phone interviews. So I’m here to talk to you personally.”

  Drake found himself admiring Jessica’s persistence almost as much as her looks. He leaned back against the rim of Alison’s desk. “You came all the way down here for nothing.”

  “So then you won’t grant me an interview?”

  “Sorry to disappoint you.”

  Rather than become angry, Jessica sat back down on the sofa and crossed her legs. “You’re fighting a losing battle by refusing to talk to me.”

  “Is that because you’re so persistent you won’t give up until I agree to an interview?”

  “That too.” Jessica smiled at the compliment, in spite of herself. “The truth is, whether you want to admit it or not, you’re becoming quite a celebrity in this city.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to avoid.”

  “Why?”

  Drake suppressed a grin. Very clever, he thought. He almost answered that one. He definitely needed to be on guard around her. “If I answered that, then you’d be getting your interview.”

  “Well, it would be a good start.”

  “But it’s one I’m not willing to make.”

  Jessica hesitated, not certain whether to press any further or retreat now and make another attempt later. Drake took advantage of the opportunity. “If you’ll excuse me. I have work to do.”

  Resigned to a temporary defeat, Jessica stood up to leave. Drake followed her into the hall and held the front door open for her. “Forgive me if I’m being rude.”

  “That’s okay. I won’t take it personally.” Jessica started to leave but stopped. Placing one hand on the door jam, she leaned close to Drake and spoke in a low, almost conspiratorial voice. “But you realize, I’m not going to give up until I get what I want.”

  “I’d be disappointed if you didn’t try.”

  Jessica slipped out and descended the stairs. Drake watched her until she reached the sidewalk, then closed the door and headed back to his office. Alison sat behind her desk, giving him a prying look as he passed.

  “I assume she’s the reporter who called you last night?”

  “The same.”

  “She seems a lot perkier than you described her.” Alison’s voice had the slightest tinge of jealousy to it.

  “Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

  “Yeah, right.”

  “Seriously, though. We have to be wary of Miss Reynolds. She’s a good reporter, and an even better researcher. And she’s as persistent as a pissed-off wharf rat.”

  “I’m sure she’d appreciate the analogy.”

  “It’s true. She’s not going to let up until she gets her story.” Drake paused. “Maybe you should call Reese and warn him that he’ll probably be getting a phone call from Miss Reynolds.”

  Alison seemed taken aback. “You really think she might track him down?”

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t already.”

  “What do you want me to tell him?”

  Drake thought for a moment. “If Miss Reynolds shows up asking questions, tell Reese to go ahead and answer them.”

  “Do you think that’s wise?”

  “I’m going to have to talk to her sooner or later. Before I do, I want to make sure she knows exactly what we’re dealing with.”

  * * *

  BILL SAT IN HIS COROLLA in front of Beers Elementary School, growing increasingly impatient. He glanced at his watch. Five minutes before school got out. He looked down the street, then used his rearview mirror to scan behind him. No sign of Jessica. Where the hell was she? If she did not show up soon, she would blow her chance to meet with Jason.

  But that would be typical of Jessica. She was nothing more than a second-rate reporter on a third-rate newspaper who fancied herself as being just one story away from a Pulitzer. A perfect blending of delusion and pomposity. If Jessica had been the one to dig up this lead, she would have made the meeting a priority. Instead, her majesty was out trolling for information from people who refused to be interviewed, either because they were politicians for who “No comment” was a mantra, or Drake Matthews himself. Jim, on the other hand, had tracked down the one person who not only saw the attacker but would hopefully be willing to talk. But because the photographer had surfaced the lead and not the reporter, the information obviously did not matter. Well, screw her. If she did not care enough to be here to get the story, then why should he?

  Bill reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out the car keys, and inserted them into the ignition. Before he could start the Corolla. a taxi passed by and slowed. Bill noticed Jessica seated in back. The taxi stopped several yards ahead of him. Jessica paid the driver and climbed out of the taxi. As the taxi pulled away, Jessica walked over to Bill’s car and got in on the passenger’s side.

  “Did I miss him?” Jessica asked as she closed the car door behind her.

  “You mean Jason?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No. Barely, though. School will be out any minute.” Bill waited for an explanation. When none came he asked, “Where were you?”

  “Across town. It took me forever to catch a cab.”

  “You ought to break down and buy yourself a car.”

  “No thanks.” Jessica lowered the passenger-side visor and began to straighten her hair in the mirror. “Between the registration fees, red light and speed cameras, and the parking scams, it’d be cheaper for me to rent a limo.”

  At least I’m not the one who has to chauffeur you around, Bill thought. “What were you doing across town?”

  “Talking to Drake. At least trying to, anyway.”

  “I take it your interview didn’t go
well.”

  “If you call getting the brush off an interview.”

  “Rude, huh?”

  “Actually, he was quite charming.”

  “So was Ted Bundy.”

  Jessica chuckled. “Not to worry. I can be persistent when I want to be.”

  The loud metallic clang of the school bell announced the end of class. Within minutes, the doors burst open and children began to file out. Bill and Jessica searched each of the faces as they emerged, looking for Jason.

  Bill tapped Jessica on the shoulder and pointed to a young boy who resembled Jason’s photograph. Dressed in jeans and a denim jacket, with a book bag slung over his right shoulder, he came out of the school and descended the stairs. No one spoke to or paid any attention to him. He made his way over to the bus stop and sat down on the bench to wait. Reaching into his backpack, the boy pulled out a comic book and began reading.

  “Are you ready?” asked Bill.

  “Yup. You have your camera ready?”

  Bill lifted up his 35mm Nikon with a 250mm zoom lens from off of the back seat. “I’ll get the picture. You concentrate on getting the interview. And remember. You have ten minutes. Fifteen at most. So make ’em count.”

  “I will.”

  “Good luck.”

  JESSICA STEPPED OUT of the Corolla. As she straightened her pink dress, she scanned up and down the street. Cars and SUVs pulled up to the curb, the drivers picking up their children. Dozens of other kids hung about, some slowly making their way home, others milling around with their friends. With everyone engrossed in their own activities, with luck no one would pay any attention to her.