Vampire Innocent | Book 11 | How To Stop A Vampire War In Six Easy Steps

by Cox, Matthew S.

  “Great. You found King Tut’s cookie jar.”

  Sam chuckles. “This is it.”

  The sign next to the urn claims it contains the ashes of a female assassin who attempted to take the life of Alexander the Great and was subsequently executed by being burned alive. The description text also alleges any man who spends too long looking at the urn will become sick, possibly die of a mysterious ailment—especially if they are named Alexander.

  My BS detector needle is on eight, but my ‘something’s weird’ needle’s a solid ten. This urn is definitely throwing off some strong vibes.

  “I’m still not sure how I let you talk me into this,” I whisper. “This can’t be a good idea. My siblings opening jars and letting stuff out has a really bad track record.”

  Sam nudges me. “Once isn’t a ‘track record. It’s once. Sophia also didn’t know what she was looking at. I know exactly what’s in here.”

  Piano music abruptly starts up in the distant right corner. The twenty-something woman screams. I look over the table in front of us toward the commotion. A transparent, vaguely feminine, form has manifested as if sitting on a non-existent bench in front of the piano, playing it. I can’t tell much about her appearance other than she’s probably around thirty and from the late 1800s or possibly early 1900s. She’s also laughing, clearly having intended to scare the hell out of the couple on a date.

  The man’s clutching his chest, gawking at the piano apparently playing itself while his girlfriend clings to Patricia Blackburn—who is also smiling like she fully expected the scare. If not for seeing the ghost, I’d have assumed it a rigged piano… which is exactly what the man begins saying as soon as he remembers how to breathe.

  I again look at the urn. “Okay, what’s your real story?”

  A note of sadness comes from it. Whoa. Not expecting that. Demons trapped in jars for long periods of time get pissed off, not sad. Look at what happens when a four-year-old is stuck in a car for two hours.

  Sam pretends to be studying other items nearby, reading their signs. After a moment, he elbows me, staring up and doing odd things with his eyebrows. I peek into his thoughts, which is what he was hoping I’d do.

  Any cameras? asks Sam.

  I look around, noting Ruth, Patricia, and the two other museum visitors. No obvious cameras. Can’t believe I’m going to do this, but… I give Ruth a prod not to pay attention to us for a few minutes. Patricia gets a prod to ignore everything going on around her except for the couple she’s playing tour guide for.

  “Coast is clear,” I whisper.

  Sam reaches out, grabs the small lid on the urn, and gives it a firm twist. The wax seal cracks open, emitting bright crimson light. A billow of white mist rushes out like he’d turned on a dry ice fog machine. Uh oh. This looks familiar.

  The mist rolls off the table to the floor, rising into a column before taking on the general shape of a human body. Seconds later, it solidifies into a nude Middle Eastern woman on the younger side of twenty.

  Eep!

  I cover Sam’s eyes.

  He sighs.

  “Thank you, Samuel.” The woman looks at me. Her body language conveys no small degree of embarrassment, but also too much dignity to act like she’s mortified. I can totally sympathize. It’s exactly how I felt my first night as a vampire. “This is not by choice. These damnable essence traps do not capture clothing, jewelry, or anything else.”

  “Ahh.” I nod, once, still not taking my hands away from Sam’s eyes.

  He folds his arms, tapping one foot.

  “You had to deal with one night in a mausoleum.” She stretches. “Try 450 years stuck naked in an empty stone room.”

  I blink. Whoa. “You know about that?”

  She smiles coyly. “I hear things.”

  My brother raises a hand in greeting. “Hi. Sorry I can’t see you. Sometimes, Dad lets us watch movies I’m not old enough for, but I have to look away at some parts ’cause there’s girls.”

  The woman pats him on the head. “I owe you one, young man. More than one… being in there was absolutely dreadful.” She clears her throat and adopts as regal a posture as a naked person can project. “I am M’Len D’Lar, once known as the Matron of Nightmares.”

  “You’re doing the same thing Olmaz did,” says Sam. “Can I just call you Mel?”

  She smiles. “Can either one of you summon clothing?”

  “Sorry, no. The only way I can summon clothing to where I am is by invoking the magic of Amazon, and it takes a couple days to arrive. I don’t advise conjuring clothing that way. It’s usually nothing like what you expect.” I point a thumb over my shoulder at the door. “If you want to hide here for a bit, I can go grab you something to wear.”

  “Darn.” Mel scowls off to the side.

  “Umm, not to ask an indelicate question, but aren’t you a succubus?” I raise an eyebrow. “Didn’t picture one of you being modest.”

  Mel chuckles. “Don’t seem so shocked. I am a succubus, not an exhibitionist. And the sign lies. I did not try to kill Alexander, nor was I burned to death. The urn didn’t contain ashes, merely energy.”

  Right. Pretty sure any intended stabbing went in the other direction and didn’t involve a knife.

  “I believe you.” Sam tugs at my hands in a testing manner.

  Sorry bud. This part of your quest is R rated. You’re only nine.

  “Oh well.” Mel frowns at herself. “I will find something. Thank you again, Samuel.”

  “You’re welcome.” He holds out a hand.

  She shakes it, then disappears into a cloud of fog.

  I let go of his eyes.

  “Where’d she go?” asks Sam.

  “Just poofed.”

  A tiny finger-snap comes from the floor, a crunch from my left.

  I look down at Blix who’s appeared out of nowhere. The wax seal on the urn isn’t damaged anymore. Oh, neat. I didn’t realize imps could un-break things. Assumed it’s against their core nature. Granted, not many imps are more interested in video games than pranking people to death.

  “This place is pretty cool,” says Sam. “Can we look around more?”

  “Dad’s expecting us for movie night. We can come back here soon.” I force a smile. “Preferably after whoever’s trying to ignite a war in Seattle is gone.”

  “Okay.” Sam grimaces. “Did Dad show you the picture?”

  I sigh. “Alas.”

  “Russel in the bushes.” Sam biffs himself on the forehead. “It might be time for an intervention.”

  After a brief conversation with Ruth, informing her we enjoyed ourselves but ran out of time—and definitely planned to return, we head for the exit. The lamp yells something at me in German, but I don’t quite make it out. Releasing a demon from a jar is enough risky stuff for one night.

  Having a conversation with a desk lamp never ends well.

  23

  Nothing Can Truly be Absurd until the Government Gets Involved

  Two figures approach from the left as soon as we exit the museum.

  I experience a surge of panic-anger. Panic at being attacked while my kid brother is here and anger at myself for leaving the katana home so I didn’t drop him. Fortunately, I recognize the two people walking up to me before making a potentially painful mistake.

  Agent Kendricks and Agent Han: The Persons in Black. Both are mid-thirties. He’s about as generic as a guy can be in terms of appearance. Looks like the dad from every 1950s TV show. Agent Han gives off seriousness like plutonium gives off gamma rays. Still haven’t figured out why her thoughts are walled off to me, but after meeting Damarco the vampire hunter, I have somewhat of an idea. She is probably wearing an enchanted amulet, ring, or a similar mystical item.

  They couldn’t be any more conspicuous in dark government-issue raincoats.

  I overact looking around.

  “Expecting more friends?” asks Agent Kendricks.

  “No, looking for the cameras. Feels like we’re filming
a scene in The X Files.”

  Kendricks fails to hide a lip twitch. Han’s eyes give off a sense of amusement, but she keeps a straight face.

  “Got a minute?” asks Kendricks.

  Ninety-nine percent of the time, when a fed asks, ‘got a minute,’ they’re politely ordering you to talk with them. There’s no way in hell they’ve become aware of a secret deal my little brother made with a demon in another dimension… right? I mean, how the heck did they find me here in front of this museum? Still, they don’t really look like they’re intending to give me a hard time.

  “Sure.” I put an arm around Sam. “Our parents are expecting us home soon for movie night but they won’t mind a slight delay.”

  “We are concerned about a significant increase in unusual activity in the Seattle area,” says Han. “It would seem disputes among certain segments of the population have escalated to the point where they are no longer… subtle.”

  “Wow. Been a while. I was wondering when you guys were going to show up.”

  They smile.

  “Right, so… an unknown party is attempting to stir things up. I have no idea who it is or what they really want. They’ve attacked me a few times, claiming to be acting under the direction of another individual, but as far as I can tell, the other individual didn’t send them. This person or group has also attacked several elders, trying to make it look like everyone’s messing with each other. I’m guessing they want to start a war.”

  “Interesting.” Han purses her lips.

  A soft whump goes off half a block from the museum as a streak of glowing yellow light rockets away from a large, black sedan, leaving a faint smoke trail hanging in the air. Seconds later, a loud splat comes from out of sight behind the Subway place across the street.

  Kendricks pivots to look at the car. “Something tried to tamper with it.”

  Han smiles. “It won’t make the same mistake again.”

  Sam winces. Oh… poor Blix. I hope he’s okay. Wait, no… he’s clinging to my brother’s back. Something else got launched away from the car. Ugh, I hope we didn’t miss any imps.

  Agent Han peers down at Sam with an odd expression. No idea what she’s thinking, but I’m hoping she doesn’t somehow sense the imp’s presence. I’m sure the PIBs would have a ton of questions for why my little brother is hanging out with a demon. Technically, he’s a daemon—which is the weakest form of demon. And yeah… my father told Sam he should’ve named him Matt instead of Blix.

  Matt Daemon.

  That one made Mom throw a piece of bread at him.

  “Any ideas who it might be?” asks Kendricks.

  “Nope. Whoever they are, they know enough about us to exploit history. Like, this pair of buttheads who don’t like me for breaking tradition, another who I refused to give a stolen mummy to, and this super creepy twisted woman who tried to destroy me for stopping her from ruining some poor dude’s life.” I flap my arms. “Honestly, I’m such a minor part of the organization here, it’s freaky whoever is doing this knows about my, uhh, problems.”

  Han nods. “It sounds like it might be coming from within. Or they have a spy.”

  “Yeah. Thought the same, too.” I wince. “If there is a spy, they’re not going to be happy soon. Pretty sure I’ve opened the elders’ minds to the idea it’s an outside threat, but they’re not totally ready to believe it isn’t some elaborate scheme.”

  “Any proof?” asks Kendricks.

  “Unfortunately, no. Only suspicions and hunches.”

  Kendricks opens a file folder and shows me some pictures of burned buildings. I don’t recognize any of the locations, specifically. However, I confirm to him that some of the vampires complained of attacks like this. When he shows me a photo of Shogun West’s parking lot littered with bodies, I gasp.

  “Did they order the fugu?”

  The PIBs stare at me, unamused.

  “You recognize this?” asks Agent Han. “Were you part of this event?”

  “No… I mean…” I point at the photo. “I recognize the restaurant. We had dinner there for Sierra’s birthday. No idea they scheduled murder sprees in addition to cheesy birthday music.”

  Han shakes her head. “We believe this restaurant to be owned by a holding company linked to Arthur Wolent.”

  “Whoa. Seriously? Small world.” I blink. “Didn’t know he had anything to do with restaurants. Explains why something weird happened. Uhh, why did they kill a bunch of people?”

  “As far as we know, the bodies in this photograph were dead before they arrived at the restaurant. Multiple funeral homes in the Pacific Northwest reported break-ins and missing bodies in a surge last week.” Kendricks shows me another photo showing several guys in suits loading the dead into a van. One of them—who’s carrying two bodies at once—is pretty damn obvious: Aziz. Wolent’s massive bodyguard. The guy Aurélie refers to as ‘The Moroccan Hulk.’ Dude’s so big he verges on being a cartoon, like Maui from Moana. It’s a Beast thing. “We managed to match one of the stolen corpses to some remains found in the parking lot of Shogun West.”

  I tell them about the ‘zombie’ attack on my house. “This looks like the same thing, only eight or nine instead of three.”

  “Probably sent them to smash up the restaurant,” says Sam.

  “Zombies…” Agent Kendricks whistles. “Please tell me you’re pulling my leg.”

  Han glances at him like ‘yeah, it’s possible,’ but doesn’t say anything.

  “Not strictly like you’re thinking. Supposedly, a vampire is using them like a kid with a remote-control car.” I shrug. “Don’t know how it works.”

  “Right.” He closes the manila folder. “If the situation in Seattle continues to escalate, it is going to become difficult to keep out of the public eye. I am sure your people don’t want that either.”

  “Umm.” I fidget, tempted to deny ‘vampires’ are my people. But… my ‘membership’ on Team Wolent is official. Gotta own it, even if I’m not personally invested in politics. “No. They don’t.”

  “Do let us know if you discover any information.” Agent Han half bows at me. “I realize your people are suspicious of our motives. However, we are willing to offer assistance if things get out of hand.”

  “We would appreciate you sharing any information you can.” Kendricks tucks the manila folder under his arm.

  “Yeah, sure. Will do.”

  The agents nod at me and walk off together toward the black car. I stand there watching them go. Han pauses to glance in the direction the yellow light smear went, but doesn’t appear to spot anything worth her time to investigate, and gets into the car.

  “Why was she looking at me like that?”

  I pat Blix on the head. “Maybe she felt his presence, or the jar left some spirit residue on you. I got the feeling she didn’t really understand what she sensed.”

  Sam peers up at me. “So are those guys our friends, or should we be afraid of them?”

  Follows Rule Girl would say yes. Vampire me is a little more skeptical. I mean, decades of movies don’t make ‘shadowy government agents’ the bad guys for no good reason. The general vibe I get from them isn’t too concerning. “Mostly friends, but I do have an almost unhealthy tendency to trust authority figures. My gut says those two are generally okay, but we should be careful. C’mon. Hop on. Let’s get home before anything else weird happens.”

  “Awesome!”

  24

  Fire in the Sky

  It should have been a warning sign we set a demon loose from a jar and nothing caught fire.

  From the moment we left home tonight for this crazy ‘side quest,’ I expected some big ol’ failure dragon would take a giant bite out of my butt. Nothing in my life wants to be simple anymore. Lo and behold, we found our way to the museum, located the imprisoned demon, and released her. Other than a desk lamp shouting German at me, the whole trip went off without a problem.

  Too easy. Nothing involving demonic liberation ever happens eas
y.

  Also, I didn’t cover Sam’s eyes to protect him from the succubus doing anything specific to him. He’s merely too little to see full frontal. Not sure if ‘Mel’ would have devoured a grown man who opened the jar. Honestly, after centuries of captivity, one would expect her to get a little fiery wrath going. Torch the museum, maybe steal some souls… a little reasonable light demoning, so to speak. I hated being trapped in a tiny mausoleum for one day. Can’t imagine multiple centuries. I’d say if it had been me, there would’ve been some wrath to be dispensed, but a vampire can’t go so long without blood. There wouldn’t be anything left of our former psyche, assuming we didn’t become a pile of dust. Then again, people don’t usually fit inside jars the size of watermelons… so I’m guessing something a little unusual happened.

  Her disappearing quietly definitely surprised me.

  Blix is an imp who only pulls pranks when asked to. We have an apparently domesticated hellhound in the yard. I suppose it makes total sense my brother would run into a modest succubus. Maybe all demons aren’t created equal. Or, maybe my folkloric understanding of what a succubus is came from misinformation—or D&D. Though, D&D borrowed it from ‘real’ lore. Prior to my death, I wouldn’t have believed demons seriously existed at all.

  Live and learn… or die and learn.

  Whatever.

  So, back to the jinx.

  Our mission, the one I expected would end with lots of burning and screaming, plus a heaping dose of regret, turned out super easy. Too easy. The Universe took note. So, here we are flying home to Cottage Lake from Olympia. Sam’s on my back. Blix is clinging to Sam’s back making tiny wharblgharblblblbl noises by shaking his flappy lips in the wind like a dog sticking his head out of a car.

  Roughly fifteen minutes into the flight, a voice below and left shouts, “Hey, she’s one of Wolent’s people. Get her.”

  In no context I can think of do the words ‘get her’ ever mean anything but trouble.