Heart of the Vampire: Episode 2

by Tasha Black

  “A worthy cause,” Viktor agreed.

  Dru couldn’t tell if he was teasing Channing or not.

  But if he was, he was doing it subtly enough that Channing wouldn’t notice.

  “Thank you, friend,” Channing said in a gratified tone, and gave a little bow. “Now, let’s see, oh, Miss Van Buren and Miss Van Buren, we can’t have you waiting around. Please join us in the sitting room.”

  The sisters giggled and each took one of his arms.

  Dru and Viktor followed them into the sitting room.

  Channing fussed over the ladies for a few minutes, making sure they were cozy on the sofa, asking if they needed hot tea and generally putting them at ease.

  By the time he sat in the leather chair opposite the sofa, the two of them were positively beaming at him.

  “Drucilla, Viktor, please have a seat,” he said, indicating the two smaller leather chairs near the writing table. “Ladies, Drucilla is here to take notes so that I don’t lose a precious word of your helpful conversation.”

  He didn’t say what Viktor was there for, but the sisters didn’t seem to mind.

  “How long have you lived at Hemlock House?” Channing asked, sitting back comfortably.

  “Oh, we’ve been here almost forever,” Hazel said.

  “Forever,” Honey echoed.

  “I know a gentleman never asks a lady her age,” Channing said with a wink. “But in this case, dates are important - at least dates in general.”

  “It was the nineteen-sixties,” Hazel said with a dreamy look in her eyes. “A long, long time ago.”

  The sixties? Dru knew the sisters had been at the hotel a long time, but she wasn’t expecting it to be that long. If they were there in the sixties, they might have crossed paths with her grandmother. How had she never thought to ask them about that?

  “My word,” Channing said. “You know this place like the back of your hand.”

  “Better than the back of our hands,” Hazel said with a grin.

  “So tell me,” Channing said. “Did you notice anything about the victim that might help us solve this case? Anything at all, no matter how small, would be a help.”

  “I hate to say it,” Hazel said. “But he was not a mannerly man.”

  Channing’s eyebrows went up and Dru was secretly impressed. He already knew from her own story that Thompson was anything but mannerly. But he was allowing Hazel to spin her own tale.

  “Can you elaborate?” he asked her.

  “Well, it’s a shame to see them back around again after so many years,” she said in a hushed tone. “That element is no good.”

  Them?

  “What do you mean by that element?” Channing asked.

  “Oh, you can always tell,” she said confidingly. “It’s the attitude, like they’re better than everyone else and always in a hurry. And always tipping everyone, just to show off.”

  “Fond of showgirls and jewelry,” Honey said suddenly.

  “Right you are,” Hazel said, patting her sister’s arm.

  Dru’s mouth dropped open. She had never heard Honey initiate a statement before.

  “You remembered how it used to be,” Honey added, nodding to Viktor as if he could confirm.

  He blinked at her and Dru looked back and forth between them.

  Suddenly Honey looked confused, as if realizing that the thirty-year-old man across from her could not have been at the hotel more than fifty years before.

  But Drew knew better.

  Could he have been here then?

  She’d never asked him how old he really was.

  “The mob,” Channing realized out loud, bringing Dru out of her thoughts. “Are you implying that Brian Thompson was in the mob?”

  “Oh yes,” Hazel said, speaking for both sisters again.

  “How could you tell?” Channing asked.

  “Well, he wasn’t dressed for it,” Hazel admitted. “But he started every conversation by looking over his shoulder, same as they always did.”

  “So there were men from the mob here before?” Channing asked.

  Dru knew enough about the history of the hotel to know it had old ties to organized crime that went all the way back to the days of prohibition. There were little snippets about the hotels storied past scattered around. It was supposed to be part of the charm.

  But it was suddenly less charming than it had seemed when it was all part of the distant pass.

  “Yes, there certainly were,” Hazel confirmed. “Would you like to know a little about the history of Hemlock House?”

  “I would love nothing more,” Channing said.

  Hazel settled back in her seat and took a deep breath, clearly enjoying the attention as the rest of them leaned in.

  “When Honey and I first arrived, we were young girls,” she said. “Like you, dear.”

  Dru smiled and nodded to her.

  “We were meant to stay for a short time,” Hazel said. “Our parents wanted us to marry, and hoped we would find eligible young men who would be here for skiing.”

  Channing nodded, smiling.

  “But we didn’t want to get married,” Hazel said, her eyes twinkling. “So we never met anyone, and our stay here was extended.”

  “No man could tame you,” Channing said.

  “I should hope not,” Hazel retorted. “At any rate, though it was meant to be a nice hotel, that element was already here.”

  “They used the tunnels,” Honey said.

  “That’s right, dear,” Hazel agreed. “The tunnels were built as part of the Underground Railroad. But in Prohibition times, they were used to smuggle rum. The remote location between Philadelphia and New York made it a perfect spot. The Irish mob was all over this place. And they kept using it for their stolen goods and other sundries even after Prohibition was over.”

  “Until that night,” Honey said.

  “Until that night,” Hazel agreed.

  “What night?” Channing asked.

  Dru knew they had to mean the night with the murders, the night the jewel thief disappeared.

  But Channing seemed determined not to influence their story.

  “There was so much blood,” Honey said softly, shaking her head.

  “It was the night of the… murders,” Hazel mouthed.

  “You were here during that time?” Channing asked.

  “It upsets my sister to talk about it,” Hazel said, patting Honey’s hand. “But yes, we were here. And whatever you heard about it, doesn’t begin to reflect how bad it was.”

  Channing nodded, rubbing his jaw.

  Dru figured he was giving her time in case there was more she wanted to say. She glanced over at Viktor to see if he was as impressed with Channing as she was.

  But he was staring at Hazel Van Buren, as if hanging on her every word.

  “The bodies were spread across the lobby floor, like in that Scarlett O’Hara movie,” she said quietly. “And the blood... They kept finding it everywhere afterward, in the carpet, on the ceiling, in the chandelier…”

  “On the s-staircase,” Honey whispered.

  Viktor was on his feet suddenly, walking to the window and looking out across the rear lawn and into the trees of the hillside beyond.

  “That’s enough of that, dear,” Hazel said, wrapping an arm around her sister. “At any rate,” she said, turning back to Channing, “after that night, those bozos stayed away. And when things got back to normal, it was better here, quieter.”

  “So the clientele changed once that element disappeared?” Channing asked gently.

  “Oh, yes,” Hazel said. “And the staff, too. Most of the old staff left not too long after that ugly business.”

  “But you came back,” Honey said, squinting in Dru’s direction.

  “No Honey,” Hazel corrected her. “That’s not right. But there was a girl who was the spitting image of you, dear.”

  “Was her name Jane Anderson?” Dru asked, already knowing the answer.

  “It wa
s,” Hazel said with a wide smile.

  “That was my Nana,” Dru said.

  “She was always banging away on the typewriter too, dear,” Hazel said. “We should have known. She was a fine woman. She used to say Honey and I were the only thing holding this place up.”

  “Who’s that?” Honey asked.

  “Sweet Jane from the front desk,” Hazel told her. “That’s Drucilla’s grandmother. How is she, dear?”

  “Oh, she’s fine,” Dru lied. She simply didn’t have the heart to tell the ladies that her Nana was dead.

  Viktor spun around and fixed her in his piercing blue gaze, and she felt momentarily guilty.

  Did I even tell him my Nana was dead?

  “I’m going to turn the conversation back to the present now, ladies, if I may,” Channing said.

  Dru listened and took notes as he walked them through the events of the past few days.

  But it was hard not to picture her Nana, sitting beside them, reminiscing.

  17

  Dru stood up and stretched.

  Channing had finished interviewing the Van Buren sisters and then insisted they all take a break. He headed into the dining room, most likely to indulge in some of the cereal that was always out on the counter.

  It was funny to picture the pretend detective eating colorful sugary cereal out of a paper cup between interviews.

  But he probably had the right idea. She was feeling hungry herself.

  She glanced up at Viktor, wondering suddenly if he was hungry too. It had been days since the last time she’d collected the fallen body of a small animal. And he’d said himself that those were really enough to stave off his hunger forever.

  She wondered how long it had been since he’d really fed.

  “Penny for your thoughts,” he said softly.

  “Are you hungry?” she asked.

  He winced. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine,” she said.

  “Let’s stretch our legs,” he suggested.

  There was no point extending this conversation, especially since they couldn’t have it freely in a public space.

  “Let’s go out on the porch and look at the snow,” she suggested.

  “Of course, Drucilla,” he said, smiling indulgently.

  They headed down the corridor.

  The lobby was half empty now. The others must have given up on waiting around, since the Van Burens were being interviewed for so long.

  “Where are you kids going?” Hailey asked from the desk.

  “Just grabbing some fresh air,” Dru told her.

  “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Hailey suggested, waggling her eyebrows.

  That still left a pretty long list.

  Viktor smiled and gave Hailey a nod.

  Dru pulled on her coat and looked back at Viktor as she opened the lobby door. A blast of icy wind greeted them. It was almost enough to discourage her from going outside.

  But the moonlight shining on the snow was so pretty, and the open air was so tempting after so long in the stuffy hotel.

  She stepped outside and took in the view.

  Things had changed since the last time she and Viktor had taken a walk.

  “Wow,” she murmured.

  He put his hand on the small of her back and she leaned back against his shoulder.

  The landscape appeared softer, snow smoothing over the angles, leaving curves in its wake.

  The forest looked shorter, but she knew it was just an illusion because the deep snow made the ground look higher than it was.

  And the fallen tree in front of the hotel appeared even larger than before, with so much snow on top of its toppled body.

  “What’s that?” Viktor asked.

  “What’s what?” she replied.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked.

  She listened closely until she heard a faint, high-pitched warble from the direction of the fallen hemlock.

  “Is that a bird?”

  “I think it’s trapped,” he said, striding off the porch and into the deep snow.

  She trailed behind him. The snow was up to her thighs, but she was too curious not to follow.

  Viktor trudged to the far side of the fallen tree.

  She could hear the throaty cries more easily as she got closer.

  Viktor was already digging through the snowy branches. They were near the base of the massive old tree, and some of the branches at that point were big enough to be trees in their own right.

  “Be careful,” she warned him.

  “We can’t just leave it,” he said.

  She followed, trying to hold aside smaller branches to make it easier for him to look.

  “I think I see him,” Viktor said suddenly, and climbed into the snowy limbs, working his way up toward the trunk.

  The tree shifted, and a mini-avalanche of snow began to slide down around them. The wood groaned from the sheer weight of it all.

  “Get back, Drucilla,” he called to her. “That branch isn’t stable.”

  The groan turned into a cracking sound as the weakened branch began to splinter.

  “Get out of there,” she yelled back. “You’ll be trapped if it breaks.”

  She had a brief vision of Viktor trapped beneath a massive tree branch until the sun came up.

  “I almost have him, Drucilla, just go,” he cried back to her.

  Reluctantly, she moved back, holding her breath for fear that something would happen to Viktor. She didn’t like the thought of not having him around.

  Several long minutes later, he reappeared on one of the thicker limbs, about six feet off the ground.

  His face was covered in scrapes and his clothes were most likely ruined, but he wore a victorious expression.

  He’d taken off his coat, and held it in a bundle, tucked against his chest. As he got closer, Dru could see that there was a very confused raven swaddled in the ball of material.

  “Can you take him so I don’t jostle him when I jump down?” Viktor asked.

  She jogged back over, then reached up and gingerly took the bundle from him.

  The bird lifted its head in alarm, but settled in again when she pulled him into her chest like Viktor had been holding him.

  Viktor leapt down and landed like a cat in the snow beside her.

  “Did he scratch you?” she asked, looking at the lines on his face.

  “No, no, these are from the tree,” Viktor said. “This little guy seemed to know I was there to help.”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Dru asked, looking down at the bird. His feathers were velvet black with an iridescent gleam.

  “I think he has a broken wing.” Viktor said sadly.

  “Can we help him?” Dru asked.

  “I think so,” Viktor told her. “I’ve helped injured birds before. We just have to tape his wing and keep him calm and warm for a while.”

  To be a monster, Viktor certainly had a soft side.

  She glanced up at his handsome face and saw that the scrapes had disappeared.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Your… your face,” she said.

  “Oh,” he said, looking downcast. “Yes, I’m difficult to hurt.”

  He was clearly worried about what she must think of him.

  “That’s amazing,” she said honestly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

  The raven cawed at her and she pulled back.

  “Sorry,” she said to the bird. “Let’s get you inside. It’s very slightly less cold in there.”

  Viktor laughed and put an arm around her as they moved through the deep snow to the hotel. It was a little easier going back, since they had forged a bit of a path on the way out to the tree.

  “Why don’t you go on up to your room,” he told her when they reached the porch. “I’ll see if I can find a good box for him.”

  “That’s a good plan,” Dru said. Her clothes were cold and wet. And if they hung out in the common spaces, everyone would want to look a
t the bird.

  Without working electronics, she suspected the guests and staff were bored enough to get excited about almost anything. And she could already hear Howie lecturing her about bringing a wild creature inside the hotel.

  Viktor held open the door as she approached.

  Dru strode in and headed right for the staircase, making it to the upper corridor and down the dark hall toward her room before anyone noticed what she held in her hands.

  18

  When Dru reached the door to her room she had to shift the raven slightly in her arms to grab her key.

  He made a soft scolding sound.

  “You’re okay, buddy,” she told him. “We’re going to get you settled in.”

  She pushed open the door and almost tripped on a sheaf of papers on the floor just inside. Someone must have slid them underneath the door at some point. She wondered if it was something from Channing about the case.

  Not wanting to disturb the bird again, she stepped over the papers and across the room, where she pulled an empty drawer out of her dresser.

  She set it on the bed and placed the coat and raven inside.

  It was too big for him to feel cozy. Whatever Viktor found would be better. But at least this allowed her to go check out those papers and get changed.

  She scooped the papers up and shut the door. She lit a jar candle on her desk that was supposed to smell like a mountain breeze, but really just smelled like laundry detergent, then came back and sat on the bed next to the bird in its makeshift nest.

  The top page had a handwritten note:

  Don’t trust him. He’s been lying to you about everything.

  That sounded pretty dramatic. But she supposed they were in a pretty dramatic situation.

  She studied the handwriting, but it wasn’t familiar.

  She turned over the first page and gasped.

  It was Nana’s journal.

  Someone had taken a picture of the first page and printed it out.

  She flipped through the rest of the pages. It was all here.

  In the excitement of the storm, the murder, the secret passageway, and the realizations about Viktor, Dru had forgotten all about the journal.