Stalking the Vampire

by Mike Resnick

  “I'm the only one for you, Darling.”

  “Are you going to scan the damned number or not?”

  “Scanning…done. It's not as pretty as your eyes.”

  “You're embarrassing me in front of my friends,” said Feinstein.

  “Get rid of them,” replied the computer. “I'm all you'll ever need.”

  “Concentrate on your work,” said Feinstein. “You're driving me crazy.”

  “With passion?” giggled the computer.

  “We'll talk later. Just access Transylvania Express's data files.”

  “Working…I'm locked out.”

  “What kind of security do they have?”

  “Code 666.”

  Feinstein snorted. “I don't know why they all think that's impenetrable. Try breaking through it with a four-slash-L-slash-twenty-six strong left.”

  “You think it'll work?” asked the computer.

  “It worked for Notre Dame against Michigan State back in 1973,” answered Feinstein.

  “Working…I'm in.”

  “I need to know if the card's been used in the past forty-eight hours, and if so, where,” said Feinstein.

  “Give me forty-five seconds, Darling.”

  Feinstein turned to Mallory. “We're even now, right?”

  “We're even once she…make that it…gives me the information.”

  “You call me an it again and it'll be a cold day in hell before I retrieve it,” said the computer.

  Mallory resisted the urge to reply and waited silently while the computer scanned the TransEx database.

  “I'll want a hard copy,” said Feinstein.

  “Working, Darling…here it is.”

  Feinstein reached out and took the paper.

  “Oh!;” exclaimed the computer. “You have such strong hands!;”

  Feinstein gave the paper to Mallory, who read it carefully.

  “When did he use the card most recently?” asked Nathan.

  “We're in luck,” said Mallory. “Seventeen minutes ago.”

  “Where?”

  “A drugstore in the Village.” He frowned. “But I'll be damned if I can make any sense out of what he bought.”

  “What was it?” asked McGuire.

  “Eye of newt. Powdered gorgon nails. Baking soda. Two harpy feathers. Baby aspirin. Bay leaves. Peach nectar. And peanut butter.”

  Feinstein turned to the computer. “Is there anything, any mixture, that requires all those elements?”

  “Are you addressing me?” said the computer.

  “You know I am.”

  “I have a name.”

  Feinstein sighed. “All right. Cutie Pie, is there anything that requires all those elements?”

  “There sure is, Snookums,” replied the computer. “It's an antidote.”

  “To what?”

  “An anti-vampire spray.”

  “Somebody sprayed him?” said Mallory.

  “Not necessarily,” said the computer.

  “Could you explain, please?” said the detective.

  “Only if you call me Honey Bunny.”

  “Could you explain, Honey Bunny?” said Mallory, starting to feel some sympathy for Feinstein.

  “Certain businesses hire pest control companies to spray their premises with a solution that repels vampires. The residue is enough to cause them serious discomfort. They don't have to actually be sprayed themselves.”

  “There must be dozens of pest control companies in Manhattan,” said Mallory grimly. “This could take forever.”

  “Not necessarily,” said the computer.

  “Why not?”

  “I didn't hear that.”

  “Why not, Honey Bunny?”

  “The peach nectar is the giveaway,” answered the computer. “The only antidote that uses it comes from Odd Peter's Pest Removal Service.”

  “Where are they located?”

  Silence.

  “Where are they located, Honey Bunny?”

  “On the corner of Agony and Retribution.”

  “Where the hell is that?” said Mallory.

  “It's in Greenwich Village,” said Nathan. “I know the way.”

  “Thanks, Albert,” said Mallory, shaking the hacker's hand. “Now we're square.” He walked to the door.

  “Just a minute, Mallory,” said Feinstein. “I'd rather have you owe me one.”

  Mallory stared at him curiously.

  “Cutie Pie, check out the owner of that TransEx card you just traced. He's got to have a Social Security number, or a passport, or something. See what you can find out about him. And make it a hard copy again.”

  “You got it, Sweetmeats,” said the computer. “Working…”

  “I've been awake too long,” said Mallory. “I should have thought of that myself.”

  “Don't let it bother you,” replied Feinstein. “We can't all be geniuses whose IQs measure right off the scale.”

  “I guess we can't all be that modest, either,” said Mallory.

  “Here you are, Darling,” said the computer.

  Feinstein pulled out the paper.

  “That tickles!” giggled the computer.

  “Well, now, this is really interesting,” said Feinstein, reading the printout.

  “What is?”

  “The card is registered to a Vlad Drachma, but that isn't his real name.”

  “I have a horrible feeling I'm not going to like what you say next,” muttered Mallory unhappily.

  “His real name, or at least the one he's used for the past few centuries in Transylvania, is Vlad Dracule.”

  “Shit!” said Mallory. “I knew you were going to say that!” He paused. “Well, what else have you got?”

  “I sure don't envy you, Mallory,” said Feinstein sincerely.

  “Oh?”

  He held up the printout. “This Dracule has been a bad boy.”

  “So what's our next stop?” asked McGuire as they left Feinstein's apartment.

  “I think that should be obvious, Bats,” said Mallory. “Tell him, Felina.”

  “The fish market,” said Felina.

  “Well, maybe not as obvious as I thought,” said the detective. “We're going to Odd Peter's Pest Removal Service.”

  “Why?” asked McGuire. “Clearly whatever solution he's using didn't kill Vlad.”

  Mallory stared at McGuire for a long moment. “When you become a vampire, do you lose half your brain?”

  “I don't think so,” said McGuire. “Why?”

  “Just wondering,” replied Mallory. “We're going to Odd Peter's on the reasonable assumption that he hasn't covered the whole of Manhattan with that stuff, which means maybe he can tell us exactly where he did apply it.”

  “I never thought of that,” admitted the little vampire.

  “I'm flabbergasted,” muttered Mallory. He turned to the dragon. “Nathan…”

  “Scaly Jim, damn it!”

  “Okay, Jim,” Mallory amended. “I think once you get me to Odd Peter's, you and Bats had better stay outside.”

  “You think he might make a break for it?” asked Nathan.

  “Why should he? He's a legitimate businessman.”

  “Then why—?”

  “Because dragons and vampires might be susceptible to some of the stuff he's got on the premises.”

  “You really think someone would pay him to get rid of dragons?” asked Nathan, surprised.

  “Why not?”

  “But we're so cute and lovable! Except for us masculine types who go armed and make war,” he added quickly.

  “Better safe than sorry,” said Mallory.

  “Better safe than dead,” McGuire chimed in.

  “Bats, you're already dead,” said the detective.

  “There's dead and then there's dead,” replied the little vampire.

  “What's the difference?”

  “I don't know,” admitted McGuire. “But there must be one, or why would I still be afraid of dying?”

  “All rig
ht,” said Nathan. “We'll stay outside, right by the front door.”

  “Stay half a block away,” said Mallory. “If this stuff is in powdered form and a breeze comes along, who the hell knows what damage it can do to someone standing that close?”

  “It makes us seem like cowards.”

  “You're no use to me dead,” said Mallory irritably. “Will you just do what I say?”

  “On one condition,” said the dragon. He pulled a tiny tape recorder out of his harness and handed it to Mallory. “I want you to tape everything you and Odd Peter say so I can use it in my book.”

  “I thought you were just getting background on how a detective works,” said Mallory.

  “I was. But then I figured, what the hell, I've been tracking down clues with you all over the city, and I've been in on most of your interviews, so why not write this case up as a Wings O'Bannon adventure?”

  “Let's hope he survives it,” said Mallory.

  “I've got confidence in you,” said Nathan. He paused. “I don't suppose you've been to bed with anyone since Vlad killed your partner's nephew?”

  Mallory just stared at him.

  “No, I suppose not,” continued the dragon. “Well, I'll just have to improvise. I don't suppose you and Felina ever…uh…?”

  “Try not to be disgusting,” said Mallory.

  “Right,” said Nathan. “Forget I mentioned it. By the way, I never asked, but what kind of gat do you carry?”

  Mallory pulled his gun out of his trenchcoat pocket and handed it to the dragon.

  “No shoulder holster?” asked Nathan.

  “They're uncomfortable.”

  Nathan studied the gun. “Looks new.”

  “It ought to,” replied Mallory. “I think I've fired it three times in fifteen years.”

  “But Wings O'Bannon is a crack shot. How do you keep in practice if you don't go to the target range two or three times a week?”

  “My name isn't Wings O'Bannon, and I never shoot anything that's more than six feet away,” answered Mallory.

  “No problem, I can fix that,” said Nathan. “After all, I am a fiction writer.”

  “And you're really going to write up this case?” asked McGuire.

  “More or less.”

  “Will I be in it?” continued the vampire.

  “You're here, aren't you?” replied Nathan.

  “Could you make me four inches taller and more attractive to women?”

  “Sure,” said the dragon. “They call it poetic license.”

  “They call it unrealistic exaggeration,” said Mallory.

  “Same thing,” said Nathan with a shrug.

  “And what do you plan to call this epic?” asked Mallory.

  “Stalking the Vampire,” answered Nathan. “Great title, don't you agree? Surefire best seller.”

  “I think it's been done.”

  “Not in this Manhattan,” replied the dragon. “Ah, here we are.” He pointed to the sign in a window that proclaimed that they had arrived at Odd Peter's Pest Removal Service.

  “They're still open at three in the morning,” noted McGuire. “Isn't that unusual?”

  “What better time to eradicate the kind of pests they specialize in?” said Mallory.

  “I'm no pest,” said McGuire. “I'm a thoughtful, considerate, politically moderate bloodsucker who has fears, longings, and sexual needs just like anyone else.”

  “Stay out here anyway,” said Mallory. “Felina, come on.”

  “It smells bad,” she said.

  “You know,” said Mallory after a moment's consideration, “it might not be a bad idea for you to stay out here too. I can't imagine that you won't put something in your mouth, and probably everything they have is poison.”

  She sniffed the air. “They have mice.”

  “They're probably test animals in cages,” said Mallory. “Stay outside.”

  “And birds!” she said, her pupils narrowing to mere slits.

  “Stay outside anyway.”

  “You're mean to me,” said Felina. “You hate me. I'll bet the Grundy would be nice to me.”

  “After he finished torturing you, you mean?”

  “But it would be gentle, friendly, considerate torture,” she said.

  “Boy, I just can't outsmart any of you tonight, can I?” said Mallory sardonically. “I have no more time to waste. Stay with Bats and Nathan.”

  “Scaly Jim!”

  “I stand corrected. Stay with Bats and Jim.”

  Mallory turned the knob on the door and entered Odd Peter's establishment.

  “Anybody here?” he said as the door closed behind him.

  “In a minute!” called a voice from a room at the back of the shop.

  Mallory looked around. There were rows of tin cans, small jars, and the occasional vial topped by a small cork. Each was meticulously labeled in a calligraphic script.

  Finally an old man, bent with age, emerged from the back room. He had the normal number of eyes and ears, but both eyes were to the left of his nose, and both ears were on the right side of his head, one above the other. He had a normal nose, but it was attached horizontally rather than vertically.

  “Odd Peter at your service,” said the man.

  Mallory made no reply.

  “You're staring,” said Odd Peter.

  “I apologize.”

  “It's all right, I'm used to it. What can I do for you?”

  Mallory showed the man his ID. “I'm a detective,” he said. “And I'm on the track of a vampire.”

  “I wish I could help you, but I live upstairs,” said Odd Peter. “I haven't been out of the building in years. I've no idea where your vampire might be.”

  “I just need some information,” said Mallory. “This particular vampire seems to have run into some of your product, and bought the makings for an antidote.”

  “Ah!” said Odd Peter, smiling and revealing two rows of bright blue teeth. “What materials did he assemble?”

  “Eye of newt, powdered gorgon nails, baking soda, two harpy feathers, baby aspirin, bay leaves, peach nectar, and peanut butter.”

  Odd Peter nodded his head knowingly. “Yes, that's mine. The peach nectar is my trademark.”

  “How many places could he have run into your…your whatever-it-was?”

  “Vampire repellent,” said Odd Peter. “Not fatal. The owner of the premises clearly didn't want a vendetta with any of the vampire's friends and relations. He just wanted to make sure his place wasn't infested by the creatures.”

  “How many places spread your formula around tonight?”

  “It's expensive stuff,” answered Odd Peter. “And it loses its potency within a few hours. Only two places have ordered it today—Tassel-Twirling Tessie Twinkle's Five-Star Burlesque Emporium and the Our Lady of Perpetual Frustration Dialysis Center.”

  “Have you got addresses for them?”

  “I believe so. Let me check.”

  Odd Peter walked to a desk, found a card file, thumbed through it, then wrote two addresses down on a piece of paper, which he handed to Mallory.

  “Thanks,” said the detective, looking briefly at the paper. “If you don't mind a personal question, how did you get into this business in the first place?”

  “My mother was frightened by a Picasso painting,” answered Odd Peter. “I decided that my mission in life was to do my best to stop anyone else's mothers from being frightened by anything unnatural.”

  “I'm surprised you didn't just go around destroying Picasso paintings,” said Mallory.

  “Do you know how many the man painted?” said Odd Peter. “He was inexhaustible. It's much easier to do away with all the nightmare creatures that inhabit Manhattan.”

  “Well, at least it's a noble undertaking,” offered Mallory.

  “Noble, schmoble,” said Odd Peter. “I just don't want any other kids to grow up looking like this” He indicated his own face. “Do you know how long it took me to find a girl I could kiss while looking
deep into her eyes?”

  “Quite a while, I'd guess.”

  “Forty-six years!” said Odd Peter. “Of course I married her. I mean, how the hell many other women have their eyes and ears where I do?”

  “At least you found a soulmate.”

  “She's a yenta of the first magnitude,” growled Odd Peter. “But what was I going to do? Wait another forty-six years to find another woman like me?”

  “Why don't you just turn out the lights?” said Mallory. “Then it wouldn't matter what your partner looks like.”

  “Damn!” said Odd Peter. “Now you mention it!”

  “Thanks for the information,” said Mallory. “I hate to grab it and run, but my prey is a vampire. I've only got maybe four hours until sunrise.”

  “You're looking at it all wrong, young man,” said Odd Peter. “The very best time to face a vampire is when he's sound asleep. They're a lot less dangerous when they're lying comatose in their coffins.”

  “I don't know where his coffin is,” said Mallory. “That's why I'm in a hurry to catch up with him.”

  “You want a little protection?” said Odd Peter.

  “What have you got?”

  “I've got a spray that'll eat away at his skin and burn out his eyes, I've some powder that'll make his teeth, his nails, and his genitals fall off, I've got no end of things that'll make him wish he'd never been born.” He paused. “The only problem is that you've got to be so close to him that he'll probably just take them away and turn them on you. The average vampire is fourteen times stronger than a man, or is it seventeen? Still, I suppose if you knew exactly where he was going, you could lean out a third-floor window and drop some of this stuff on him, and if the wind didn't blow it onto a bunch of innocent pedestrians, it might very well solve your problem.”

  “Sounds awfully complicated,” said Mallory.

  “Well, you are going up against one of the Creatures of the Night,” replied Odd Peter. “Anything he can reach he can kill.”

  “Is there any other creature that a vampire is afraid of?” asked Mallory.

  Odd Peter shook his head. “I've seen them whip their weight in gorgons, gryphons, ogres, and sea serpents. They're tough dudes, vampires. At least you're not up against one of the Transylvanian ones; they're the worst of all. Well, good luck, young man. Bring back both ears and the tail, or whatever fearless vampire killers bring back these days.”

  Mallory thanked him and went back out into the street. McGuire and Nathan began walking toward him. He couldn't spot Felina, but a moment later she leaped into the air from atop the awning in front of the shop, did a triple somersault, and landed right next to him.