by Kater Cheek
“He goes, I go.”
Palmer nodded. “That’s kind of what I figured.”
Morales had driven us to the slummier area of downtown. We were just north of Ipswich Park, in a section of town that had once been a prosperous commercial district, but had since fallen on hard times. The buildings were all historical, and couldn’t be torn down, but no one had coughed up enough money to renovate the area yet.
In a few years, some entrepreneur would probably toss millions at this old neighborhood and make it gleam with brass and leather, but right now only the squatters and dealers called it home. Morales wound the Caddy down poorly lit streets into an alley, which was empty except for a parked car, and three still vampires who stood by the back door of a decrepit theater.
Palmer pointed them out as Morales slowed the car down. “The tall thin one’s Brown, the blonde woman is Norwicki, and the other one is Fain.”
The last names thing made me think of them as soldiers. The black cammo fatigues and scarcely concealed weapons that Fain and Brown wore certainly added to that impression.
Brown was tall and gaunt. Central Casting would probably have put him under the title ‘funeral director’, because he was dour and nowhere near handsome. Fain looked enough like me he could have been my brother, although he didn’t resemble James, and he smiled happily, as though this were the best possible way to spend an evening.
“Did you get a human to come?” Norwicki asked, just before we stepped out of the car. She was wringing her long pale hands. Norwicki was a delicate vampire with a mass of blonde curls. She wore a vintage brown velvet dress and more make-up than the situation called for. “Oh, thank God. Hurry. I can hear him, he’s hurt.”
“All we have to do is go in there, find him, and bring him out?” I asked. Was this some kind of a test? Was Holzhausen behind this?
Palmer nodded. “If anyone tries to stop you, beat the shit out of him.”
“We’ll be out here in case you run into trouble.” Fain had a gun drawn, and looked anxious to use it. Brown double checked a semi-automatic, while Morales took his cue and brought out an extra magazine.
“You think anyone’s in there besides your friend?” Guns made me nervous. You can’t karate chop a bullet. Except for Norwicki, with her long fragile hands and slender figure, they all looked more ready for action than Rambo’s drinking buddies.
“We saw them leave from the front of the building a few hours ago,” Palmer said, “but you might want to be quiet, just in case,”
“How do we get in?”
“Back door.” Morales handed me a flashlight and Fenwick a crowbar.
“Hurry,” Norwicki said.
Fenwick nodded, and clutched the crowbar like a dear friend. He went towards the door they indicated while the four male vampires fanned out to block both ends of the alley. Norwicki waited by Palmer, plucking her dress with nervous hands.
The door had a deadbolt above the handle. Fenwick pushed one end of the crowbar in between the door and the jamb and gave an enormous pull.
At first nothing happened, as though the door were too much for even Fenwick’s strength. He shoved the crowbar in farther, and wrenched again. With a screech like the lid of a coffin, the door ripped open, with the deadbolt and latch still rusted to the jamb.
There went secrecy.
Fenwick and I tiptoed through the door into the darkness of the theater. The flashlight illuminated rickety steps as we descended into a storage area behind the stage. To the right, the storage area extended the width of the theater.
Miraculously, some of the ancient dusty screens and backdrops had not yet been stolen or vandalized by anything but rats and pigeons. Straight ahead was less cluttered, so we went that way, and ascended a short flight of steps to the backstage area.
Years of feet had worn brown paths through the black paint on the wood. It creaked beneath our feet, and in some places a leak somewhere up above had dripped down, creating a stalactite of wood rot and mildew. Fenwick had an allergy to mold, and began to sneeze.
“So, where do you think he is?” I shone the flashlight up above, as though expecting a vampire to drop on us any minute. The catwalk still had broken spotlights attached to it, and something small and furry scuttled about in the shadows.
“I smell something, something like blood, but I don’t know where it’s coming from,” Fenwick whispered. “I’m going to search the wings. Why don’t you check out the stage?”
I nodded and crept onto the stage, feeling more nervous and vulnerable than if the audience were full of bored spectators. Did someone lurk in the darkness? Up above us waiting to drop something on our heads? Behind the curtain with a knife or gun? I scanned my flashlight over the empty theater, expecting to find ghosts watching us from the ratty velour seats. Nothing.
But wait. There was something there. Was that movement in the balcony?
“Fenwick! I think there’s someone out there!” I whispered loudly, creeping towards the spot where I had heard his last sneeze.
Suddenly the stage sank between my feet, causing me to leap back with my arms reflexively raised in a guard position.
“What?” Fenwick loped back, clutching the crowbar like a baseball bat. He sniffed and scraped his foot over the dust to reveal the square outline of a trapdoor. “Down there. That’s where the smell’s coming from.”
And then a shot boomed from the audience and chipped off a chunk of wall behind us. I shut the flashlight off and dropped to the ground, rolling from where I had been moments earlier. Fenwick stomped on the trapdoor, and it swung open with the sound of splintering wood. I slithered into the open hole and swung down into the room below.
Fenwick dropped down next to me, swearing as the second gunshot hit metal above us. He sniffed the air. “He’s here.”
I flicked on the flashlight again, and fanned the storage room. Rotten, mice-ridden racks of clothing had been pushed against one wall. A table filled the rest of the room, its surface covered with boxes, baggies and a an electric scale like the kind used for packages. I didn’t see anyone living, but Fenwick pushed the table aside and leaned down to inspect a body lying on the floor.
“Can he climb?” I asked, pointing the flashlight at the hole to the stage.
“No way. Look at him.”
I swiveled the light back around.
Someone had manacled the vampire’s wrists and ankles together, ingeniously using iron stage props secured with padlocks. Even if he hadn’t been chained, he wasn’t going anywhere. The vampire looked ghastly, more corpse than living. The parts of his skin not encrusted with blood were as pale as freezer paper, and where his wrists weren’t hidden by the iron cuffs, they bore the marks of cigarette burns.
“Jesus. Is he still alive?”
“Don’t know, but let’s get out of here. There must be a back way. Take this crowbar so I can get a better grip on this guy.”
The gunfire above had stopped, which meant that whoever had been firing at us had either run out of bullets, come down to get closer, or called for reinforcements. The door leading to this room was newer, and secured with a bolt from the inside.
I opened it, shining the light down a short hallway with another door at the end. The next door was locked or jammed, but Fenwick kicked the hinged side and it ripped free, falling over like a drawbridge. We both winced at the noise.
“Sorry,” Fenwick said.
“Had to be done.” I shined the light so he wouldn’t trip on anything. A short passage beyond the door split in a T left and right, with doors on either side leading to storage and dressing rooms. Fenwick cocked his head and then loped down the right passage. The door at the other end was skewed off its hinges, and beyond that lay only a cluttered passageway, and a flight of stairs to the exit, and safety.
And then another gunshot reminded us that we were not alone in this theater.
“Go! Go!” I shouted, lighting his way with the flashlight.
Fenwick was already running. Another
shot rang out, this one closer. Whoever I saw in the balcony must have climbed down and intercepted us by taking the other stairs. He was close enough behind that we heard his footsteps. When I stupidly turned to look, my toe caught on a loop of rope and I went sprawling.
Fenwick was already up the stairs and had handed off the comatose vampire to those outside. At the sound of my swearing, he turned back. “You okay, Kit?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, just—” And then a shot rang out. Fenwick fell through the open door and into the alley.
“Fenwick!” I screamed his name, a ragged terrified scream, and tried to scramble to my feet.
“Stay down!” one of the vampires ordered.
I flattened myself against the floor.
Apparently, they could see in the dark. Three handguns blasted away into the theater, sounding like a machine gun on full automatic. I pressed my hands over my ears, and, as soon as the shots ended, I scrambled up the stairs, out of the ink black theater, to the semi-darkness of the alley.
Fenwick was lying on his back. A pool of blood spread on the asphalt around him, soaking his head, his face, his hair. I had never seen so much blood. Oh God! There was so much blood.
“Fenwick! Fenwick! Oh God. Fenwick, don’t die!”
Morales and Palmer ignored Fenwick, despite the lake of red which now touched his shoulders. I ran over to Fenwick, but there was so much blood soaking his head that I couldn’t tell where the wound was. Was he dead?
Palmer looked up to talk to Brown. “Status?”
How could they ignore the blood? All the blood. “There’s so much blood. Oh God. Fenwick.”
“The one inside is dead, but I heard him call for others.” Brown was sliding new bullets into his spare magazine.
Fain stood up, licking some of Fenwick’s blood off his fingers. “The two of us can handle it, but Morales should take the other human away before she gets hurt too.”
Palmer nodded. “Go with the others.”
“I won’t leave him!” Look at all the blood. Too much blood. Oh God, Fenwick.
“We called the paramedics as soon as we heard the shot. They’ll be here soon. There’s nothing you can do.”
“Go, we’ve got this under control,” Fain said.
Palmer nodded at someone behind me, and a pair of arms lifted me and carried me toward the car. It was Morales.
“I want to stay with him!” I fought vainly against Morales’ arms, wanting to return to Fenwick’s side.
Morales loped towards the car, carrying me as though I weighed no more than a sack of flour. “The ambulance will take him to St. Jude’s. Now get in and buckle up.” He stuffed me in the car door, and slammed it behind me. We heard sirens approach. Sirens. They wouldn’t use sirens if he was dead, would they? Oh God, Fenwick. Please don’t die.
Morales sped the car out of the alley like a bat out of Daytona. I looked through the back window, and saw an ambulance pull into the alley behind the theater. They were fast. Did the ambulance drivers just camp out nearby, waiting for the next gang shooting? Please don’t die, Fenwick, I prayed silently.
“Damien! Please don’t die! Damien!” The bound vampire lay half across Norwicki’s lap, and she kissed him with red lacquered lips, caressing his many wounds as gently as if they were her own.
“What’s wrong with him?”
“He lost too much blood. He will die,” Brown said. He sounded as optimistic as Eeyore.
Norwicki shook her head. “He needs blood, oh my sweet baby! Wake up baby!”
“Can’t you get him a transfusion?” I stupidly asked, not yet getting it. “Let’s take him to the hospital.”
“Hungry …” Damien rasped weakly.
All the vampires looked at me.
“Me? Why me?”
“He needs human blood,” Morales said.
“Please?” Norwicki pleaded, reaching one long hand over to grasp my arm in supplication.
I had a bad feeling about this.
“Please?” she begged. “He needs blood, and he needs it right now. He’ll die without it.”
I sighed and took my jacket off, reaching into the pocket for my craft knife. It wasn’t sterile, but then neither was Damien. Steeling myself for the pain, I cut my arm, near the crook of my elbow.
It barely nicked the skin.
Norwicki took the knife from me and cut deeper, out of either helpfulness or impatience, and I sucked air through my teeth at the sudden pain. Norwicki pushed her blood-encrusted lover up to drink from my bleeding arm.
People found this erotic? It was certainly close and personal, but not in a good way. Damien grasped my arm with two strong hands, resembling Nosferatu breaking a fast. It was awkward, even if we hadn’t been in the back of a speeding car. All my weight rested on my left arm, and my face was close enough to Norwicki’s to count her pores. Damien’s pale bloody head was next to my ear, each swallow too loud, too wet.
He drank fiercely for someone so recently near death. Wasn’t he done yet? Hurry up! Hurry up! Sure, I was saving his life, but he looked far too much like a terrifying horror-movie ghoul for my comfort. I saw my blood drip down his chin, and pressed my eyes shut, turning away.
“Are you finished?” I asked, eyes still pressed shut so I didn’t have to see the blood.
“He needs more,” Norwicki said. She grabbed my arm and held it steady.
He kept drinking for what seemed like hours. Brown and Norwicki watched silently, and we heard nothing but the hum of the car as Morales drove us southward, and the gulping sound as Damien’s ghastly lips sucked.
That was it. I couldn’t take any more.
“Please stop.” I pulled my arm. Damien clutched my arm and sucked the blood hungrily, digging his fangs in slightly in his eagerness.
“Just a little more,” Norwicki said, gripping my cold arm like a vice.
“Too much.” My head spun. I tugged on my arm, but they held it firm. Would he stop before I died? Damien kept drinking. Was I stupid to trust him? Yes. I was queen of the idiots. Let all lesser idiots bow before me. He was a monster. They were all monsters, and I was their victim. I never should have agreed to this.
“Please, stop.” I pitched forward and fell unconscious.
***
“You took too much.” Morales said reproachfully to one of the other vampires. The car had stopped, and cool air poured in through the door. Someone was bandaging my arm.
“I couldn’t help it. I was too thirsty.” The voice was one I didn’t recognize at first. Damien. He was conscious. “Is she going to be okay?”
My eyelids fluttered. Light. The dome light was on.
“She’s waking up.” Morales finished bandaging my arm and set it in my lap. “Hey, human. You going to be okay?”
“Don’t call me human,” I rasped. “My name is Kit Melbourne.” I swallowed and opened my eyes.
The Caddy had stopped on a residential street in the Wasserhausen district. Nice cars sat in driveways, and the houses had neatly kept lawns with the occasional picket fence. It looked like a street where they’d film a fifties sitcom.
The house we’d pulled up to had wind chimes, and flowers in the window boxes. I never would have thought this attractive split-level was the dwelling of a vampire couple, but the mailbox read Norwicki in reflective letters.
“Glad to see you’re awake.” Morales slid out of the car and opened the door. “Stay here while we get our friend inside.”
“Thank you.” Norwicki leaned forward as if to embrace me, but when I hunched my shoulders to protect my neck, she stopped and instead handed me a card with their phone number on it. “If you ever need a favor—anything.”
I nodded and pocketed the card.
Norwicki scooped Damien up as easily as if he were a child, and carried him out of the car into their house. Morales followed them inside with his gun drawn, but when he found it safe, he returned.
“You hungry, hu—?” Morales caught himself. “Are you hungry, Kit?”
I shrugged. “You buying?”
“She’s hungry. I heard her stomach growling,” Brown said.
Morales stopped at a fast food place on the way back to Northridge, ordering one of everything without asking what anyone wanted. I thought they were going to share, but he tossed the sacks in the back.
“Is this all for me?”
“We ate earlier. You need your strength.”
“Thanks.” I managed to eat half of it on the way to my apartment. Elaina’s bar food bribe was several hours and several pints of blood earlier. Even with a full stomach, I felt too weak to walk. Morales picked me up and carried me, setting me down only long enough to let me fish the keys out of my jeans.
Elaina was still awake and watching a movie on the couch, despite the late hour. Morales and Brown wavered at the door, giving Elaina enough time to scream in surprise, and cover herself with a blanket.
“You have to invite us in,” Morales informed me.
“What?”
“We can’t come in unless invited.”
“Oh. I invite you in to my home,” I said, loud enough for Elaina to hear. Morales carried me down the stairs, and Brown followed with the bags of food.
I didn’t expect Elaina to recognize them as vampires as soon as they came down the stairs. Guess that’s one outcome of having a witch for a roomie.
“Kit, are you nuts! You can’t invite them in. Do you know what they are?” Elaina backed into the kitchen as if looking for a bulb of garlic to throw.
“We’re friends,” Morales said as he set me on the couch.
“What’s wrong with her? What did you do to her?” Elaina asked, scowling at my pale face and the bandage on my arm.
“I gave blood.”
“Will you be okay?” Morales asked.
“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Thanks for the food.”
Morales took a bottle of supplements from his pocket and handed it to me. “Take one of these a day until they are gone. Try to eat well, lots of red meat, green leafy vegetables, and leeks. Get plenty of rest.” He sounded like he had made the speech before.
Brown nodded, and the two of them let themselves out the door.
