Ash Addict

by Al K. Line

  "Spoilsport."

  "We all have our secrets, Arthur. You more than most."

  "I don't know what you mean."

  "I mean you know a lot of things about a lot of things. You don't share what's none of my business, you don't tell me things you think I shouldn't know."

  "Maybe, but only so if you get tortured you won't be able to spill the beans."

  "Haha, very funny."

  We smiled at each other. I think we were bonding or something.

  He never did tell me. Bugs me even now after so much time has passed.

  Getting Somewhere

  "We're here," Ivan murmured, so quietly I wasn't sure I'd heard him right.

  I glanced at him, then out of the window, but all I could see was rain and a pool of illuminated wet tarmac. "Huh? Where's here? The middle of nowhere?"

  "You'll see." Ivan's dark eyes danced with mirth as the light reflected from his black orbs.

  I don't think he'd ever looked more like an evil vampire overlord in his life. If I didn't know him so well, I'd have been kinda spooked. The dark, oppressive night didn't help matters, and he had a strong smell of garlic on his breath, which just felt plain wrong as it went against all the myths.

  "Let's get to it then." I was keen to get out of the vehicle just to stretch my legs and not because I was scared.

  "Indeed." Ivan smiled again, that twinkle in his eye. What was with him?

  "What's up? Why are you so happy?"

  "I don't get much opportunity for adventure. You know my past, what things were like. I was an aide, there to whisper in my master's ear and stop him from getting us both killed. I never got involved in the dirty stuff though. And since my new status, since I've had more responsibility, control and power, which I do not particularly like, I might add, well, sometimes I feel like a teacher, or even an office worker. Not someone who runs the vampires and controls all the crime. It's about time I had some action of my own."

  "It's addictive, right?" Ivan nodded. "Exciting and makes you feel alive. That edginess, the sense of danger, it makes you believe you could do anything, doesn't it?"

  "Yes, and I'm not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

  "Oh, it's a bad thing. You just wait. It'll all go tits up and you'll wish you were back behind your desk giving orders."

  Ivan frowned, but then he smiled. "Maybe."

  "You'll see."

  Bit Obvious

  "You've got to be kidding me." I squinted at the sign. Ivan stood beside me, his humor gone, all business now.

  "It made perfect sense. At the time, anyway. I figured nobody would sniff him out, so-to-speak, somewhere like this, and I was right. It overpowers the scent, if there is one. I wasn't sure about any of it, wasn't even thinking about the addicts, but something told me that if I was to hide him then such a place would be perfect.

  "A bloody crematorium," I moaned, hating the place almost as much as Vicky's cooking, but not quite.

  "Not just a crematorium. Urns are kept here, a cemetery of sorts I suppose," mused Ivan. "People come here to pay their respects to the deceased, many more come to say farewell before they are cremated, and I was drawn here. This was where he should be, where he should rest."

  "Like a premonition of things to come, you mean?"

  "Something like that. Maybe I knew this day would come, maybe not. Nevertheless, he is here, and now all we have to do is get him."

  "And you're sure nobody else knows about this? Absolutely nobody?"

  "I have told nobody his location. Only you and I know this."

  "You weren't driven here by one of your guys?"

  "No, I came alone. Arthur, relax, everything will be fine."

  "Yeah," I grumbled, "you might say that, but I have more experience of these things than you do. And trust me when I say that whenever you think a plan is going smoothly, somebody will be along shortly to bollocks it all up."

  "Oh, ye of little faith." Ivan removed a small key from his pocket, fitted it into the padlock of the chain link fence, which wasn't very inviting for people coming to burn their dead ones if you ask me, and opened the gate. With a flourish of the arm and a wave of the hand, he said, "After you."

  I muttered under my breath about the whole damn spooky situation, then wandered in, alert as I could be in the dark and with it threatening to rain again at any moment.

  The gates rattled as Ivan slammed them shut then locked up, leaving the car outside the fence for a quick getaway if needed and to avoid cameras maybe. We headed toward a squat gray building almost invisible in the damp, misty air.

  You Couldn't Make it Up

  "Seriously, Ivan, why the fuck did you pick this place? Don't give me that crap about you sensing it was right, that it would hide the ash. I don't buy it."

  "What other reason would there be?" he asked as he used another key to let us into the building through a side door. There were definitely no cameras or alarm systems, and that in itself was weird.

  "You tell me. But hiding ashes surrounded by other ashes doesn't ring true. You didn't know about the addicts then, did you?"

  "I'd heard of them so figured this was a good choice."

  "No way. They couldn't find Mikalus when he was in a box in some dude's home. It took centuries for him to be tracked down, and it wasn't by the ash addicts. And stealing him was a breeze. The guy didn't know what he had and that means they can't just find him easily. So why bother?"

  "Ah, I suppose you deserve the truth." Ivan stopped once we were inside and the door banged closed behind us.

  We were in a stark corridor, ducts and thick pipes ran high up along two-tone painted walls reminding me of a hospital. It was just like that scene from Jacob's Ladder when he's on the trolley. I shivered.

  "Come on then. I want to get the hell out of here."

  "I thought it was cool," he mumbled.

  "You what?" I cupped my hand to my ear, leaned in close.

  "I thought it was cool. Look, I'm a bloody vampire, okay, and I never get to do anything vampirish. I get my blood to come to me, just feed and the sycophant is on his or her way, although I do prefer the boys."

  "I know you do. But what about what's-her-name?"

  "I like both, I think. I like her, but I like men too."

  "Stop changing the subject. You thought it was cool?"

  "Yes. I wanted to do something that a vampire would do. Something creepy and maybe a bit scary. This fits the bill."

  "You got that right." I glanced down the badly lit corridor, shivered again as I pictured myself strapped to a gurney and rolled into a furnace while I screamed inside but couldn't move a muscle.

  "You aren't making fun of me," noted Ivan, looking surprised. Or, he raised his eyebrows a fraction anyway, which was good for him.

  "Why would I?"

  "Because I just told you I hid the ashes here because it's a crematorium and spooky. Just to act like a vampire."

  "Yeah. So?"

  "I assumed you'd mock me, tease me."

  "Look, I know I joke around and act like a dick sometimes, but I get it."

  "You do?" Ivan's eyebrow rose higher.

  "Course. Why do you think I do half the things I do? Have the long hair, the hat, try to always stand where the wind's blowing at me and my coat flaps about?"

  "I figured you like the hair and the hat and that you just seem to get caught out by the weather."

  "Ha, I don't get caught out by the wind, the wind gets caught out by me." Ivan stared, nonplussed. "Yeah, that came out wrong. Don't know what that means. I mean, I like the drama. I make sure it's gusty so I look cool. I whip out Wand and let the sigils flare and the magic of many colors blast away."

  "That's different, it's magic."

  "No. Okay, yes. But the magic could be clear. Makes no difference. The sigils would work just as well without them flaring into burnt umber or deepest vermilion. I did that, I built it all in. Most wizards do the same."

  "Really?"

  "Course. Looks
more dramatic and makes you feel more wizardly. Why the fuck would you wear an itchy robe and wave a huge bloody knobbly stick around and have such a long beard?"

  "I assumed most of you like it?"

  "We do, but it's more than that. You gotta feel the part, and looking the part helps achieve that. It's a confidence thing. If you look like a wizard, if you have a big stick, if it flashes dangerously, if sigils flare and you get to mutter under your breath, it makes you feel like a wizard. Imagine if we all wore smart suits and used pencils that always just looked like pencils. Everything would work the same, maybe, but who wants that? If you're a wizard then you want to feel like a wizard, right?"

  "Wow, of course. I'd never thought about it like that."

  "So, no, I'm not going to make fun of you. I get it, I truly do. You want to feel like a vampire, do some spooky ass shit so you feel like you actually are a real scary, immortal, bloodsucking, super-powered dude."

  "Yes, exactly."

  "And that's cool. But don't go wearing goth gear or a signet ring filled with poison, or one of those glass vials around your neck filled with the blood of the first you changed."

  Ivan shuddered. "Heaven forbid."

  "Do you believe?"

  "In what?"

  "In heaven," I asked, intrigued and figuring while we were having a heart-to-heart and sharing secrets now was a good time to ask.

  "I don't know, I'm not sure what I believe in any more. I never used to, but I've seen so much these last few years. Anything is possible, right?"

  "Sure is, buddy, sure is."

  "And you?"

  "Oh, I believe in it all. I've met Death countless times, seen so much. I'm not taking any chances. Even met the Devil."

  "The Devil? The actual Devil himself? Haha. Um, seriously?"

  "Don't tell anyone else," I whispered, getting close and glancing around. "But the Devil definitely exists."

  "You mean it?"

  "Sure, and trust me, he's not as bad as you'd think. Everyone's got a job to do, and the way this world is going to shit, I think we can both agree he's doing a much better job of things than the big guy upstairs." I looked up, then added, "No offense, and feel free to step in any time you like. We sure need the help."

  Ivan glanced up then laughed. "Haha, you had me going for a moment there."

  "Yeah, that's me, always fooling around."

  I wasn't, I really wasn't, but whatever makes you sleep better at night. Or not, in my case, until Penelope.

  Ah, Penelope, the love of my life. I wondered how she was doing, and was pining to call her, but it was the middle of the night and I was on serious business. But it was nice to know she was at home, sleeping soundly, warm in bed.

  "Let's get this over with."

  Man bonding over, we got down to business.

  Getting the Goods

  Ivan led me down the corridor then through a nondescript door into another identical corridor. It was cold so I pulled my jacket tight; the chill remained.

  We entered yet another corridor, this one better appointed, probably somewhere visitors were allowed, then finally found ourselves in a large foyer. The carpet was deep red, thick and welcoming, the temperature better.

  Large boards on easels offered information about a previous cremation. A man smiled at us from above the crowded lines of text. Bet he wasn't laughing now. Or maybe he was. Maybe he lucked out and his god was pleased to see him.

  Ivan swept forward, being dramatic, and I smiled. Let him have his fun.

  He pushed open double doors into a large room with rows of chairs laid out neatly. Guess they didn't bother folding them up and storing them as the death business is always good, no matter the rest of the world and its problems.

  He strode down the aisle, the carpet even deeper here but showing signs of wear. The room was utterly mundane, a slightly too low ceiling, plain beige walls, non-denomination stained glass at several windows—about as multi-faith and uninspiring as you could get.

  At the far end was a dais and lectern. Behind that on the short stage was a red curtain running the width of the room, in front of which was a large trolley with rollers. I think this was meant to be symbolic, that the casket would roll down and behind the curtain, the mourners expecting the body to be incinerated immediately. I didn't think it worked like that, and hadn't for years, but who knew? I wasn't interested, but Ivan's choice of location was getting to me despite myself.

  "Where is it then?" I asked.

  "Oh, it's out in the graveyard. Although, um, I don't suppose they call it that. There are no graves, just alcoves in the walls."

  "So why are we in here?" I asked, incredulous.

  "The drama, remember?"

  "I think we've had enough drama now. Let's collect him and get the hell out of here."

  "As you wish." Ivan turned to face me and I could tell he wished he had a long cloak or jacket so he could swish about with a flourish. He did all right though, and his suit jacket made a suitably dramatic swoosh as he marched past, looking deadly and vampired up to the max.

  "Good job, buddy," I noted.

  Ivan turned and grinned. "Thanks, appreciate the support."

  I hurried after him. These places gave me the creeps. Not because I was worried about what I imagined came after, but because I knew exactly what came next.

  A Good Choice

  "You certainly picked a good spot," I noted, impressed by Ivan's flair for the dramatic and downright bloody spooky verging on terrifying. At least it would have been, if I got scared after being so jaded for so long, of course.

  "Thanks." Ivan grinned then took in the strange courtyard we found ourselves in.

  We were on a narrow, slightly raised area of paving that hugged the dark stone wall. Weathered benches hunkered against the wall, silent, battered sentinels, paint peeling, several with small brass plaques dedicated to the deceased. The courtyard was paved in old, cheap flagstones, the kind you get in any industrial zone, the same council paving used throughout the country. It was dark gray, mottled with lichen, and a reminder of the death hiding in the walls.

  The entire area was walled, ancient red brick I was certain predated the building. Maybe an old walled garden from a lavish house demolished long ago, who knew? The walls were easily fifteen feet high, dark with age, and topped with what looked like razor wire. Overkill if you ask me, but then, I'm no designer.

  Around the perimeter, the paving was a chalky white where heavy footfall had kept the composite slabs relatively grime and tiny life-form free. The air was oppressive here, cooler than I'd expected, maybe trapped by the walls, or it was my imagination. I searched the alcoves, about the size of a human head, trying to spot Mikalus, although I knew I couldn't. He was dead and ash is ash. Nothing special about the remains of a two-hundred-year-old vampire killed twice and still causing no end of trouble.

  No, that wasn't right, I had to remind myself. It wasn't him causing the trouble now, it was the living vampires. The ones who wouldn't let the dead rest in whatever afterlife awaited. Mikalus was gone, now we merely had to ensure he remained that way. Permanently.

  Bugs flew spastically above my head and I stepped to the side to get out from under the weak light of the bulb affixed to the wall. It was crunchy, and I looked down to find I was walking through a layer of moth bits. Nice.

  As I stepped forward, so floodlights blinked on, bathing the courtyard in a pallid glow that created deep shadows in the corners;, the alcoves receded into darkness. Damn but the designer sure had a flair for the macabre.

  "How did you say you found this place again?"

  "I didn't, but it was, let's say, a person who is very keen to become one of my kind."

  "One of those twisted nutjobs who offers their blood so that one day they can become a vampire?"

  "No, one of the kind people who offers their blood to help keep vampires from doing anything stupid and who shall be rewarded in good time."

  "He, or she, definitely knows how to make a place spo
oky. Did you tell them?"

  "Of course not. I, ah, liberated some keys, copied them, and through our conversations discovered that the security is lax here. There are no cameras, nobody ever comes here at night, making it the perfect place to hide Mikalus and also, er, it..."

  "Sounded spooky as fuck?"

  "Yes, spooky as fuck, as you say." Ivan smiled despite the seriousness of the situation, and I guess I couldn't blame him. After all, he was right, and he didn't get much action these days. I suppose he was on a roll, what with the fights at the warehouse, him getting involved, all this nonsense with the ash addicts. I'd have to watch him. I knew how addictive all this could be. Last thing I needed was him butting into my business, wanting to be a part of it.

  "Can we get on with this? It's bloody freezing out here." I wrapped my jacket tight and shivered, tempted to use a little magic to warm up, but knowing in my bones I'd need all I could get for whatever nonsense came along to spoil our fun. Ivan seemed oblivious to the fact that situations like this always ended in violence. Guess at some things he was a noob.

  "Just soaking up the atmosphere," he said, raising his head as if the weak, hidden moon offered energy he could absorb. Hell, maybe it did. Maybe moonlight was like the sun to citizens and wizards alike. Its cold, uncaring presence making them feel even more vampish.

  "You can do that once we get these bloody ashes and deal with them. Um, how are we going to deal with them? And please, don't trick me again. How will I know you really destroyed them? You could pull a fast one again and all this crap will repeat itself."

  "Arthur, trust me when I say I have no intention of repeating this. I should have let him go, and this time I will. As to how, you will see. Now, let's recover the First and get out of here. We're pushing our luck and it's time to depart."

  "Glad you're finally seeing sense."

  Ivan moved forward, the bugs went mental dive-bombing the bright light, and I wondered how long it would be before something truly awful happened.

  But it didn't. Ivan wandered slowly around the perimeter from left to right, hugging the wall, staring at each urn in turn. They were of all kinds, from small to huge, ornate things in shiny metal with gold handles and festooned with flowers, whilst others were nothing more than plain canisters, covered in dirt and soggy leaves, the deceased long forgotten.