by Roger Keller
“He won’t touch it,” I said.
Uli tossed another grenade into the Explorer. “My task is done here.” He spread his wings as white smoke and flames rose behind him. “Until we meet again.”
“I can’t wait,” Heather said.
“Bye,” Misty said. “And thanks.”
Uli nodded to her then took off into the night sky, and vanished.
“Are you OK?” Misty said as she brushed the gravel off Heather’s jacket.
“Yeah I’ll be fine,” Heather said. “I don’t remember any of it. And where’d you go anyway?”
Misty told her story while we sped away from the burning Explorer.
*****
I drove flat out, right around the creepy town of Franklin, straight to the wall that marked Marcello’s property line.
“Whoa, look at the gate,” Misty said. “It’s all wood. Where did he even find trees that big?”
I drummed my hands on the wheel, sure something crazy would happen and prolong our quest.
“So, how do we get in?” Heather turned to me. “How did you get in last time, anyway?”
The gates creaked and swung open by themselves.
“Yeah, that figures,” Heather said.
Misty bounced around in the backseat as she checked out Marcello’s property for the first time. I tried to concentrate on the road. There were things moving out there, watching us, camouflaged by the dark. They weren’t vampires, but I could sense them just the same.
“It’s kinda like another planet out there,” Misty said, “or maybe we drove into this weird movie.”
“We drove into weird a while ago,” I said.
“Yeah we did,” Heather said.
“Misty, this shit is going to get serious,” I said, thinking about Monroe’s notebook of monsters. “Try not to piss Marcello off. He has way scarier things working for him than Uli.”
Misty groaned.
“Let’s just try to get out of here as fast as possible,” I said.
Marcello the, Patrician wizard, waited on the steps to his archaic mansion, flanked by two of his Praetorians. He wore a silk smoking jacket and held a glass of wine. His long black hair was a tangled mess. The Praetorians wore sweats and carried shotguns.
“Micheal,” Marcello said as we approached him, “your mission was a success.” He held up his glass.
I tossed my pack to him. He removed the book and tossed the pack back to me. “Keep it.”
“Ah, Heather,” Marcello said, “it seems you have taken on an apprentice.”
“Yeah, this is Misty,” Heather said.
“I know,” he said. “We met earlier. Quite a clever young vampire. You may soon need all the help you can get.”
“What?” Heather said, annoyed.
“Come inside, we’ll talk,” Marcello said.
“Awesome.” Misty ran right up the steps.
I facepalmed.
*****
We followed Marcello into his library. The treasures of Marcello’s centuries long life lined the halls. Misty took out her phone and tried to take some pictures.
Heather hissed in her ear. “Knock that shit off.”
Marcello pointed through an open door at his fire-lit library. Misty tried to say something but the sight of Marcello’s vast book collection silenced her.
I nudged Heather as Marcello slid the ancient evil book into a shelf between some dogeared, Clive Cussler paperbacks.
Heather shrugged her shoulders. “I fucking knew it. He doesn’t even care”
Marcello took a seat by the fire. Heather and I joined him. There were still plenty of chairs scattered around from my last visit. Misty wandered around the library, checking out the books.
“You seem to have made an interesting choice for an apprentice,” Marcello said.
“Yeah, it just kinda happened,” Heather said, her patience wearing thin in a hurry. “So why did you say that we needed help?”
“While you were on your quest,” Marcello said, “I had a few visitors from the vampire community. One of the elders was my guest some time before. She escaped your master’s wrath decades ago, when Lee conquered his current territory. She is quite old, by current standards at any rate, at least three hundred years.”
“So what?” Heather said. “She’s a looser, a really old looser. Lee kicked her ass like, almost a hundred years ago.”
“She’ll not be the one who you will have to reckon with.” Marcello knit his fingers together. “Lee’s territory is priceless to some. There are no unclaimed cities, that I know of, in North America. I suppose one could survive in a rural area, until someone began to suspect, then the townspeople would assemble a militia of some sort and hunt the unlucky vampire down.”
“I’m not worried about a bunch of hicks,” Heather said.
“You should be,” Marcello said. “I recall the story of a master vampire, who when deposed and banished from Jacksonville, took to hunting a sharecropper community. The impoverished farmers banded together and hunted him down with dogs and breech-loading muskets. Their descendants avoid the fallow field where he was burned to this day.”
“OK, what?” Heather said. “Look, I’m not going to back down and hide in a fuckin’ cornfield and neither is Lee. I don’t care what’s coming.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Marcello said.
Misty looked up from a red leather bound book. Heather nodded to me. I looked around the room twice before I saw him. A young, long haired man stood in the shadows. I’d seen him on my last visit, sulking while the other members of Marcello’s coven drank and socialized. There was nothing notable about him then.
“Who’s your buddy?” Heather said.
“Our reclusive young friend goes by the name of Cain, apparently,” Marcello said. “I named him Rafael, but that wasn’t to his liking. He is one of my many children.”
“I remember him from Heather’s exorcism,” I said. “The after party I mean.”
“Where’s your robe, Cain?” Heather said.
Cain wore a tieless suit. His long wavy blonde hair hung on his shoulders, like a Nineties era metalhead.
“Do you need something?” Marcello said.
Cain glared, then sunk back into the shadows and vanished.
“Not impressed,” Heather said. “He’s trying too hard.”
Misty sat down on the floor next to Marcello. “I have some of these same books,” she said.
Marcello raised an eyebrow and smiled.
“In digital form,” Misty said.
“Naturally,” Marcello said. “I have always enjoyed technology. It has it’s limitations, but I find it useful as you well know.”
“How did you call my phone?” Misty said.
“I focused on Michael’s particular energy and made a connection, of sorts,” Marcello said. “I could have locked on to any number of devices in the general area. What interests me is how you managed to call me back.”
Misty took out her phone and handed it to him. A tremor ran through Misty when their fingers touched.
“Fascinating.” Marcello examined the screen. “Were you there when my book was recovered from that pack of fools who claimed to be searching for wisdom?”
Misty swallowed hard. “Um, yeah. Sort of.”
“Take my hand.” He closed his long white fingers around Misty’s hand. Marcello sunk back into his chair and pulled Misty forward. Heather tensed up and tapped her index claw on the chair. It was over in a second. Marcello let go and Misty ended up face down on the floor. Marcello chuckled, sort of. Heather showed her fangs, irritated by the inhuman sound.
“You saw everything, even stuff I didn’t invite you to see.” Misty rubbed her head and sat up.
“Your memories of the last few days were quite exciting, my dear,” Marcello said. “I just had to see it all. I did not expect The Society to have been so advanced as to call on demonic entities without my book.”
“You mean the burnt thing that came out of the shi
pping container?” Heather said.
“Yes,” Marcello said. “And what have you seen?” He held his hand out to Heather. “You may know something useful.”
“Fuck right off,” Heather said. “I’m not letting you see inside my head. Do Mike. He saw the same things I did.”
I shrugged and grabbed his hand. Marcello’s ancient skin felt like a faux leather glove. Everything went dark. We stood together in limbo. The events of the last few days played out in front of us on a phantom screen that appeared from the darkness. Time slowed to a crawl while Marcello enjoyed my memories. I concentrated on Marcello. He realized what I was doing, but it was too late.
Now Marcello’s memories appeared on the screen. I saw him, with his own apprentice Miranda, on a huge four poster bed. They writhed together while the symbols painted on Miranda’s pale skin glowed violet. Then everything shifted and Marcello walked alone through his mansion, pausing to look with pride at one of his own statues. Cain walked out of a dark corner. They began to argue.
I pushed it, like I knew what I was doing, and older scenes rolled by. Marcello strode out of the Oval Office, leaving a terrified, sickly Lyndon Johnson alone with some bad news.
In another scene, Marcello dined in a classy French restaurant with Veronica Lake. The scene shifted to a yacht where a shirtless Marcello stood on the deck with Jill St.John. She wore the same bikini she’d worn in Diamonds are Forever.
In limbo, Marcello turned to me and smiled. He tried to speak, but the next scene silenced him.
Marcello ran down a hospital-white hallway, that was lit only by emergency lights. He wore a blood stained, Nerhu jacket. A naked, hairless, once-human creature sprung out of a broken doorway. Marcello caught him in the air and hurled the hissing, growling thing into the wall. I got a good look at the creature while it recovered. The thing was a vampire. He, it, had no genitals. It’s gray, emaciated body was decorated with medical tattoos. Hook shaped claws gouged the floor tiles as the vampire struggled to its feet. Pointed ears stuck out from the sides of it’s smallish skull. The vampire’s mouth bristled with needle sharp teeth. It’s dull, unlit eyes reminded me of Duke DeVoss’s vampire stormtroopers. Marcello pointed at the vampire and spoke in what I guessed was Aramaic. A bolt of blue electricity shot from his hand like lightning, passing through the vampire, reducing it to bone and ash.
Marcello breathed hard, like he’d just run a marathon. Inhuman screams echoed through the hall. The incinerated freak had a lot of friends. Marcello drew a dagger from his jacket and knelt. He carved a series of symbols into the floor tiles.
In limbo Marcello cursed and pulled loose from my grip. The connection was broken and I was back in the library. Marcello shook uncontrollably and tried to stand. He sunk back into his chair, head in hands.
“Got more than you bargained for, huh?” Heather said.
Misty smiled at me. “You saw some things too, didn’t you?”
“Yeah I did.” I reached into my jacket and found my .38.
“Well played Mister Ellis,” Marcello said, regaining his composure almost instantly. “Still, I was able to see some interesting things before you overtook the the vision. The tunnels you found under The Society’s temple for instance.”
“Yeah, there was a lot of weird shit down there,” Heather said. “They were like, sacrificing people down there in that one room.”
“That was not a sacrificial chamber,” Marcello said. “What you saw was the refuse site of an abattoir.”
Heather stared at him, “Huh.”
“They were feeding something down there,” Marcello said.
“Now I’m really glad we burned them,” Heather said.
“What were they feeding?” I said.
“I have no idea,” Marcello said. “They may have been keeping it in the glass cage that Heather cracked. But, It was gone by the time you arrived, back to it’s own dimension, no doubt. If it still haunted those tunnels, you would have met it.”
“Great,” I said.
“The powers that be in your city will know well what to do with those tunnels,” Marcello said.
“You know, I have a lot of questions about what we just saw,” I said.
“It would take days to explain what you witnessed,” Marcello said.
“I was kinda interested in the part where you were going out with a Bond Girl,” I said.
“She wasn’t the only notable woman of the last century that I’ve, uh, known,” Marcello said, with a wolfish smile. “I also bedded…”
Heather and Misty turned to the corner. Cain stepped out of the shadows. He’d painted sloppy runes on his suit which were similar to Miranda’s body paint. Marcello refused to look at him.
“Again you intrude while I entertain my guests,” Marcello said. “Leave us immediately. I will speak to you when you have learned some manners.”
“I’ve waited long enough.” Cain reached into his sport coat and produced a medallion on a gold chain. It looked like the one Marcello wore. But this was newer, maybe only a century old, a poorly realized copy made by someone with limited access to the original.
“My patience wears thin,” Marcello said.
Cain said something in Latin and the air around him rippled. Marcello was lifted out of his chair and flung across the room.
Heather stood up and smiled wickedly. “Cool, a wizard fight.”
Cain pointed the medallion at Heather and Misty. They shot across the room and crashed into a bookcase. I got up and walked toward Cain, hand on my .38.
“This doesn’t concern you, human. I don’t have time to explain myself,” Cain pointed at me, “so, burn.”
I didn’t burn. I didn’t feel anything. Cain’s pale blue eyes opened wide. I put the .38 to his forehead.
“Wait.” He said something else in Latin and pushed the medallion into my army jacket. Nothing happened.
I pulled the trigger. Cain staggered back, blood pumping out of a small black hole in his forehead. A second round in the chest sent him to the floor.
Cain kept breathing while blood continued to pump from his wounds. Heather and Misty were up and moving, slowly, like they were pushing against a heavy wind. I cocked the hammer and fired again. Cain’s head split open. Gray dust poured out and mixed with the blood. I watched dumbfounded as Cain’s flesh dissolved into glittering, gray sand.
I looked at the .38’s smoking barrel. “What the fuck?”
“Oh no you don’t,” Marcello said from behind me. He held up his left hand, his gold rings glowed red like they were going to melt. A fog appeared around us, thick and warm. You could almost cut it with a knife. “There is no escape, this time.” Marcello’s invocation echoed through the room. The fog swirled and became thicker. Then it fell to the floor as more silvery, gray dust.
Heather and Misty gawked at the bizarre spectacle and brushed themselves off.
“Well that sucked,” Heather said. “I’m getting real tired of magic bullshit.”
“Stay where you are,” Marcello said. “Try not to disturb the dust.”
*****
The Praetorians swept up the gray dust and collected it in a gallon-sized glass jar with a flip-top lid. They kept pouring it in, but the jar never seemed to get more than half full.
“What a fool,” Marcello said. “Two hundred years and he learned nothing.” Marcello turned to me. “I suppose I owe you some small thanks. I had the situation well in hand. Yet, you did contribute to my inevitable victory, in your own small way.”
“Glad to help.” I looked at Heather and she rolled her eyes while Misty stared at the jar of dust. “Sorry I had to shoot your son.”
“It was inevitable,” Marcello said.
We returned to our seats by the fire as if nothing had happened. Misty drug a chair over, careful to avoid the last of unwholesome dust. Marcello opened his mouth to speak, but Heather beat him too it.
“So, before we were so rudely interrupted, by whatever the fuck that was,” Heather said, “you said
something about some old vampires who want to start some shit with Lee.”
“Ah yes,” Marcello said. “It seems that the elders in some nearby territories have hit on a solution to their overpopulation problem. They plan to invade Lee’s city. If the excess population of young vampires are destroyed in some disastrous defeat, then they will pose no threat to the elders. If they vanquish Lee, then they expand their territory. The elders win no matter the outcome.”
Heather dug her claws into the chair.
“Isn’t that how wars usually go,” Misty said, “the old people walk away with everything.”
“Yes, Machiavelli would be proud,” Marcello said.
“I have a question, boss.” I said, holding up my hand like I was in school. “Can I get something to drink?’
Marcelo smiled and tossed me his flask.
“You know, you owe me more than a drink,” I said.
“Of course,” Marcello said. “We’ll discuss it some time. I may have some work for you.” He looked at Heather. “When your done with your mission for Lee, of course.”
I wondered if Marcello’s robot-like Praetorians started out just doing odd jobs here and there. Even Uli must have been human once.
“Yeah, we’ll see,” I said.
Miranda strode into the room wearing a bathrobe. Black silk clung to her curves as she moved. I tried not to gawk at her breasts as they jiggled loose under her robe. Miranda’s long brown hair bounced like she was in a shampoo commercial. She handed Marcello a battered walnut box.
“Come here.” He motioned to me.
The box was full of relics from the early Twentieth Century. Watches, pocket knives, jewelery and a few handguns. Everything was expensive and crafted with unusual care. Nobody’d made things like that since Pearl Harbor.
“Vampires used to own these,” I said.
“Yes,” Marcello said. “My payment for letting the survivors of Lee’s massacre rest here. I didn’t really want any of it, but it’s tradition you know.”
Misty sifted through the box and selected a necklace.
“You may have that if you want,” Lee said, “for your part in returning my property.”
“I think they’re real diamonds?” Misty held the necklace up to the light.
