Rachel watched the vampire-mafia boss die…then saw Valentine rush over to check Stanic’s condition. From behind the bars she saw John’s head and face were covered in blood, and she knew he had certainly suffered a massive concussion. Her heart wrenched, a sob caught in her throat.
Valentine turned back to the cell, working fast to pick the lock, freeing Rachel. She threw the cell door open and ran to Stanic, tears sliding down both checks as she held the man she loved so much. He had sustained massive blows to his head. His breathing was shallow. She examined him the best she could through the hemorrhaging eye, trying to be the skilled doctor and not the woman losing the love of her life.
“It’s major head trauma,” she told Valentine. “It could go either way. We had better get him to a hospital. We may not know the extent of the brain damage for quite some time.”
“Okay,” Valentine spoke up. “He needs immediate medical attention but can we do this under the radar? The police force in this town is still corrupt love, and we now know at least one officer is a vampire.”
“Good point. Let’s get him to my office and I can treat him off the record.”
“Sounds good. I’ll be back in a jiff with transportation.”
With that, Valentine dashed up the stairs to bring around their vehicle.
Rachel walked over to where Sarah Little sat in the corner of the cell, still curled in a ball and shivering.
“Sarah, we are going to take you to a hospital,” she said. “But we need to keep what has happened here a secret. Do you understand?”
Sarah looked up at her with her big blue doe-eyes brimming with tears. “I can keep a secret if you can,” she whispered. ‘But, like you said…my life…will never be the same.”
Just then Valentine came barreling back down the stairs. “We are in luck love. They left keys in their vehicles just up in the garage. The fastest way is to use one of their cars.”
Valentine approached his injured friend and, with Rachel’s help, gently picked him up and the four made their way up the iron stairs and out into the castle’s huge garage where a long line of black cars were parked. “Take your pick,” he said pointing at a long row of parked vehicles. “They all have keys sitting right in the ignition.”
Rachel approached a black Escalade, opened the tail gate. She reclined the rear seats to create a flat cargo area. Valentine eased the still unconscious Stanic into the rear of the vehicle with Rachel still clinging to his side. Valentine slid behind the wheel and fired up the engine as Sarah jumped into the passenger seat. The garage door slid open with a loud churning of gears and the SUV shot forward.
“What’s going to happen to me now?” Sarah asked as they sped down the driveway toward the exterior gates. “Now that I have been attacked…three times.”
Valentine looked at the young girl with sadness in his eyes. “I’m so sorry love…there is no easy way to tell you this… but after your third attack, you will have received the curse.”
The car remained silent for some time as Valentine drove toward the hospital as smoothly as he could, carving around the hairpin turns of the steep mountain road.
“You’re lucky to be alive, love,” he said. “The rules for being a vampire are really quite simple actually. You will never age. You will be stronger at night, but weak in the sun…and under the light of the full moon…you will want to hunt.”
A tear slid down Sarah’s face as she took in the grim news about her future. “You said that we need to keep this a secret and totally I agree…we can never let my parents find out what has become of me. They’re better off just thinking I’m dead. I can keep a secret if you can.” Valentine knew that wouldn’t be easy. Nothing would be easy for her now. His heart pounded as he watched the girl begin to understand what her future held.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
When Stanic opened his left eye, he studied the hospital room ceiling. Then he noticed an IV running to his left arm and heard the steady beep…beep…beep…of the electrocardiograph monitoring his heart through the tiny wires and small diodes stuck to his chest…and he felt as if a heavy metal rock band was banging out their loudest song inside his head.
He turned to his right and saw Rachel standing over him, tears glistening in her eyes and a bright white bandage around her head. Just behind her, Valentine paced from one corner of the room to the other while Sarah sat quietly on one the chairs against the back wall of the room.
“How do you feel, honey?” Rachel whispered, her hand gripping his. “You’ve been asleep for over twelve hours.”
“I feel like my head is in a vise, but I think I’ll live. By the way,” he stammered, “wh-who are you?”
Valentine gasped aloud from the other side of the hospital bed. Rachel’s eyes went wide, anxiety flashing across her face. But then she squinted and her lips curled into a grin. “Ha-ha,” she said. “That’s not funny! We’ve been worried sick! And you’re incorrigible,” she said, tapping his arm.
Stanic laughed. “Well, I guess I haven’t lost my sense of humor, I’m obviously still in my prime.”
“Let’s have a look to see how your wounds are doing, shall we?” Rachel removed the bandages from Stanic’s head and bent to examine the lacerations. Her mouth swung open, shock registering in her eyes. “What the…” She took off the bandages from his shoulder where he’d been shot…then the patch over his eye, confusion swirling in hers. “I-I can’t believe it! Your wounds…they’re…gone!”
Rachel tugged the bandages away from her own head as she moved toward the mirror on the opposite wall.
Stanic watched a surprised expression flash across her face the moment her bandages had fallen away.
Her head wounds were gone.
Rachel retrieved a cutting tool from the hospital supply room and removed the hard cast on Valentine’s hand.
His fingers were healed as well.
“Simply amazing,” Valentine declared with a bright smile as he worked his hand open and closed. “Apparently we’ve acquired some sort of superhuman healing abilities as well.”
“I think we should vacate the premises,” Rachel suggested, trying to stay as calm as possible. “Before someone starts asking some seriously unanswerable questions.”
“Good call, love.”
Valentine looked at the beeping EKG machine by Stanic’s hospital bed. He grabbed the electrical plug that led from the machine to the wall outlet and with a quick jerk of his arm the machine went dark and soundless.
Rachel removed the IV drip from Stanic’s arm and taped a small piece of gauze in its place while Stanic yanked off the electrodes stuck to his chest. Then he sprang from the hospital bed, changed back into the hooded sweat jacket his friends had retrieved from the hotel room, laced up his running shoes and, without any hesitation, the four strode out of the hospital room.
But as they reached the lobby, directly in their path, stood a tall expressionless man waiting to greet them, his dark eyes shining under the yellowish hue of the hospital’s fluorescent bulbs.
“Hello, John,” the man said. “You’re all looking quite well.” He paused. “Considering.” Then he flipped open his wallet, flashing a shiny gold badge. “FBI, Internal Affairs, Daniel Gant,” he said, then looked at John. “Funny thing, I was informed that you suffered a major head trauma just a few hours ago. Your prognosis was critical.”
The man’s eyes narrowed, then darkened. “That’s quite a recovery. You seem to be a very fast healer,” he said, suspicion dancing in his eyes. But without waiting for an answer, he added, “Which is good because there is someone who would like to talk to you. He glanced from Stanic to Valentine and then to Rachel. His name is J. Malcolm McCauley, special advisor to the director of the C.I.A.”
“What’s this about?” Rachel moved closer to Stanic. “Why would anyone want to talk to us?”
“There is no reason for you to be concerned,” the man replied. “We have an interesting proposition
for the three of you. Mr. McCauley is waiting outside in his limousine. Please, come right this way.”
Stanic hesitated. He really didn’t like the idea of anyone, law-enforcement agent or otherwise, leading them into an enclosed space. “Why should we trust you?” he asked.
“Because we’re on your side,” the officer replied. “We know the Santa Cruz police department has been compromised. I lead a task force that’s, right now, working to clean up this town. You can trust me…because we are on the same side.”
Valentine looked at Rachel and raised one eyebrow. Rachel seemed to pick up on what he was thinking. She shrugged her shoulders, took a long deep breath looking at the ground. Her eyes snapped open, locking onto the officer, gazing into his eyes. Stanic watched as Rachel’s trance-like concentration level intensified. He hoped her mind-reading powers were still working, then he saw her eyes begin to glow red. The officer must have noticed it too because he took a quick step back, looking startled as did Sarah Little.
Rachel broke the stare, and relaxing a bit, she smiled at the man. She turned to Stanic and gave her slow nod of approval, then looked toward Valentine, nodding to him as well.
Stanic had seen more than enough to be convinced. “Okay, let’s go. Please lead the way.”
They followed the man through the hospital and into the parking lot where a black Hummer stretch limo waited.
A chauffeur stood at the ready. The rear doors opened as they approached. They were directed into the back door while agent Gant went to the front seat, with a glass partition between them. Stanic slid across the soft leather couch-like seats followed by Rachel, Valentine and Sarah. At the other end of the car’s spacious interior, was the man they were supposed to meet.
“Well, thank ya’ll for com’n on in,” the man sitting on the far side of the car from them said, his Southern accent pronounced, his voice low and smooth. He wore a dark navy Armani suit, with a red and yellow power tie loosened around his neck. In his right hand, he held a glass filled with a beige liquid over ice, in his left hand an unlit cigar. He looked to be in his late sixties with a head full of slicked-back silver hair.
“Well, we don’t know how y’all did it,” he said, “but we are most definitely aware you’ve just taken down the entire Stelino crime family in one night.”
Stanic looked at Rachel, saw her lip curl into a lopsided smile. Then he realized she must have already known the purpose of the meeting because she didn’t seem the least bit alarmed.
“And we’re very appreciative!” A disarming smile slid across the man’s face. “Anyone care for a glassa’ Blue Label?” He glanced at each passenger, lifting his glass into the air. “Cuban?”
“No thank you. What’s this all about?” Stanic asked. “You have our full attention.”
“Y’all like to cut right to the chase, huh. Well, I like that too.” His smile disappeared as did the Southern charm and his face suddenly tightened
“Okay, here it goes.” He took a short breath, then finished his scotch. “It’s pretty simple. We need your help. We’re been having some similar types of difficulties down south in San Diego.” McCauley let out a heavy sigh and then continued. “The Borsetti crime family is exhibiting some real outlandish behavior down there. They have a brazen disregard for our rules and…” He paused on this more serious note. “Girls are going missing. We’ve recovered the bodies of a few of these unfortunate souls, and the medical examiner determined all their blood had been extracted.” His lips thinned. He looked at Rachel. “They all had puncture wounds on their necks, kind of like the two marks on your neck there, Rachel.” He motioned to her, using his unlit cigar as a pointer.
“Only these girls weren’t so lucky.”
The comment caught Stanic off guard, both eyebrows rising as he listened.
“You’ll be nicely compensated, of course. What do ya say one million bucks each for cleaning up the Stelino mess for us, and another million after sorting out the problems we’re having with the Borsettis. Hell, you’ll be saving us money!” The man smiled. “Think of it as one hell of an important community service. Think of the innocent lives you’ll be saving. One hundred grand each up front and the remainder after our San Diego problem is solved.”
Stanic noticed Rachel had closed her eyes, concentrating on the director. After a brief moment she opened her eyes and grinned. “I know you’re telling the truth, but we’ll have to think about it. Thank you, Mr. McCauley,” she said, speaking for the group, and then reached for the door to exit the vehicle. “We’ll be in touch soon.”
Valentine reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out both the small leather-bound log book and the counterpart book which decoded it.
“Everything you need to know about how to clean up the Stelino mess in Santa Cruz is in these two books,” he said, placing them on the back seat of the limo, He gave them a gentle pat. “Please use them wisely, mate. It was bloody hell obtaining them.”
***
The foursome walked across the parking lot toward their SUV.
“I’m starving. Let’s go grab a bite,” Rachel said.
Stanic nodded his agreement. “Great, I’m in the mood for a nice, thick steak, and let’s make it rare.”
“Actually, a steak does sound pretty good,” Sarah said, chuckling as she spoke.
Stanic realized his old life was gone for good, and his new life was going to be a very different one. He smiled wholeheartedly. “I think we all deserve a nice, long, relaxing vacation. Don’t you?” he asked. “What do you say?”
“Sounds perfect,” Rachel responded. “But then it looks like we’ll have more work to do.”
“I believe you’re right, love,” Valentine replied. “But I think the FBI can afford to give me some much needed vacation time as well. How does surfing in Costa Rica sound, mates? ”
His broad smile made Stanic realize he’d stumbled upon a strong friendship in Valentine…and he no longer required an explanation on how his friend came to be with the FBI. He would get his answer when Valentine was ready to give it. “Can’t wait.”
And the four headed to the best steak house they could find, each ordering a thick, extra-rare filet. After dinner…they drove straight to the airport.
The End
* * * * *
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An excerpt from:
Dracula Rising
“There are mysteries which men can only guess at, which age by age they may solve only in part.” —Bram Stoker
September 13, 1447
It was well before dawn as my carriage rolled through the darkness, out beyond our castle’s great wooden drawbridge and deep into the forest. I had my driver prepare our departure much earlier than usual and we set out, plunging through the soup-thick fog. The darkness felt heavy indeed as the significance of this day pressed arduously into my mind. Boughs of rolling white mist loomed like eerie columns of stricken-down clouds hovering just around eye level and hazy moisture spiraled from the ground, snaking forward and wrapping around our coach before swirling away and dissipating into the darkness.
My name is Vlad the third, Prince of Wallachia and I am seventeen years old.
Upon noticing we were making good progress, I drew in a deep, slow breath. Our pace seemed much quicker than usual and it calmed my heightened state of mind. I took in another full breath, then exhaled slowly. I had been preparing for this day for many years, eager to prove my worthiness, once and for all, to my father, my king, and to the people of Wallachia.
Oddly, just as our road began to descend into yet another deep vale, my carriage began to slow. I stretched out from the small window on the side of the coach, intent on asking my driver why he was slowing, but, I could see it fo
r myself. We were headed toward a narrow wooden bridge…and something barred our passage, something lying in the path in front of us.
A dark shape emerged through the heavy white mist. The eerie image moved across the road, arching high in the center, forming into a shape I couldn’t identify, but it was large enough to prevent our carriage from driving around it. I heard my driver call to his horses in hushed tones, “Whoa there, lads.” Then I listened to the measured kl-klop-kl-klop-kl-klop of slowly falling horse hoofs taking us forward.
As he led us closer, I stared intently from the window, refocusing on the form as it came into better view. The wind picked up without warning. Thick, rolling clouds billowed across the moon’s face, cutting its light to a muted, hazy glow.
My driver stopped the carriage several paces before the strange thing that blocked our progress. Our horses reared, straining against the reins and I heard my driver speak again in low tones, trying his best to calm them. I removed the burning lantern from the interior wall of the carriage and stepped down onto the dirt, then drew in a long, strained breath, thinking about possible lost time.
This was the one day I could not be delayed.
I turned up the gauge on my lantern to its full brightness, the frustration of lost time now weighing heavily on my thoughts as I walked toward the object that lay in front of me.
I could now see clearly…it was a girl.
She lay facedown, partially wrapped in a dingy gray, threadbare blanket. Her torn blouse hung open, most of her torso exposed. Two streaks of ruby red lined the supple white skin of her bare back. Her silky black hair played around her neck and shoulders, catching the moonlight.
“Miss, what has happened here? May I be of any assistance?”
I hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and the clouds, as if on cue, began to part, letting a flood of eerie moonlight splash down on her body like a murky spotlight.
I rocked her slender frame backward until she rolled over on her side with one of her arms still awkwardly tucked back under her body. She was alive, but her breathing labored, her eyes stretched wide, bulging from her face like a dying fish gasping for oxygen. The still-wet blood on her back told me that whatever injury she had sustained must have happened recently. Then I noticed a dark puddle of blood had pooled in the dirt below her—all black, save the glowing reflection of the moon itself.
Vampire Mafia: Santa Cruz Page 13
