Moonshine Wizard

by Phillip Drayer Duncan

  Bert turned and walked up to the door. Inside the small vestibule area, the doorman glared at him and pointed at Hunter. “Who’s he?”

  “He’s with me. There a problem?”

  The doorman was considerably taller than Bert, but Hunter was close to his height. Must be nice, Bert thought. The doorman was still bigger than the two of them put together. He cracked his knuckles. “It’s enough trouble having you here. I don’t like the idea of you bringing a guest.”

  Bert turned to Hunter. “Look, it’s your first encounter with a real vampire. Isn’t he big and scary?”

  Hunter seemed a bit uneasy and the guard seemed ready to pounce. Bert deactivated the ward hiding Sharp and his staff. The vampire’s attitude took an abruptly civil turn. “Go right in. I meant no offense.”

  “No worries,” Bert replied, grinning. “But remember, just because you can’t see it, doesn’t mean it isn’t there. You should’ve figured that out by now.”

  Bert entered the club, Hunter in tow. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, but he wasn’t sure if his ears would ever adjust to the obnoxious music. Throughout the room, half-naked women danced on poles and gave lap dances to the various patrons. Bert laughed as he noticed Hunter’s eyes drifting. He leaned in close and said, “Remember. Bloodsuckers.”

  “Right,” Hunter replied, shaking his head. “This place is busy for the morning.”

  “Fangs runs day and night,” Bert said, patting him on the shoulder. He led them to a small door in the back, guarded by two men in black suits. They stepped aside and waved them through to a smaller dance room. This one had far fewer patrons, but there were still a few dancers.

  Bert leaned closer to Hunter and said, “This is the supernatural only room. Some of these are regular people, but they all know what’s really up.”

  Hunter nodded and they moved toward the back of the room. As they worked their way through, one of the strippers leaned down between them and stopped Hunter. She wore nothing but a black thong and high heels. As she leaned down her fake breasts bumped Hunter in the face.

  An angry look crossed his features as he took a step back. Nonplussed, the stripper said, “Hi there, cute thing. Want a private dance?”

  Before Hunter could reply, Bert said, “Why don’t I ever get titties in my face when I come through? Damn, it sucks to be ugly.”

  The girl ignored him and reached out to Hunter. “What do you say, handsome? Want me to make all of your fantasies come true?”

  Hunter’s eyes pinched into a glare. “I’m not interested.”

  She leaned in closer, showing her fangs. “C’mon baby, I just want to know how you taste.”

  Her eyes widened and her body stiffened as the end of Bert’s staff appeared against her throat.

  “You must be new,” Bert said in a friendly tone, “because obviously you haven’t learned the rules.”

  “Please sir, I didn’t know.”

  “What? That I was a wizard? Or that you couldn’t do that? Either way, it’s a load of bat crap. I know how strictly Mack enforces the rules. And I know he’s adamant about making sure you know the rules before you’re allowed on stage. You see, the service he provides isn’t appreciated by everyone. Some people want a reason to shut it down. Do you know what that would mean?”

  She shook her head, but the terror on her face was clear.

  Bert continued, “It’d mean this sanctuary wouldn’t exist. And then where would you get blood? All you happy go lucky vamps would be overtaken by the craving and start hunting humans. You know what happens then?”

  She still didn’t answer.

  “People like me start hunting you. So, why don’t you make things easier and follow the rules?”

  She nodded and apologized to both of them.

  They headed further into the room. Another bouncer stood guard in the back. He didn’t speak but stepped aside to let them pass. Bert walked up to the wall and pushed it in, revealing a door. They both stepped through.

  They entered a short hallway with a set of descending stairs. There were cameras in each corner recording their every step. As they made it to the bottom, they found themselves in a much larger underground facility.

  Hunter looked around and said, “Woah, how big is this place?”

  Bert shook his head. “Mack said it was an old military bunker at one time. Not sure of the exact size.”

  “It looks like a school or hospital,” Hunter said, taking in the white tiled floor and matching walls. There were various doors along the hall. Some were wooden while others were metal. As they walked they passed multiple hallways. There were people in business suits, people in combat fatigues, and a few robed individuals who looked like hospital patients. Hunter glanced at Bert and asked, “What is this place?”

  “Like I said, it’s a large operation to help vampires. Too many people get turned against their will. It’s not easy for them to adjust, and the craving for blood is a constant struggle. New vampires often end up consuming flesh instead of just blood. That causes them to go feral. And if a new vamp manages not to kill their prey, there’s a good chance they’ll ‘infect’ them and cause them to change. A mature, well-practiced suck-face can suck blood without killing, or changing, their prey. A new vampire can’t do either. And when they go feral, it’s nearly impossible for them to get back to normal. Like kicking a drug addiction. This place is like a tourist information center for newly turned vampires, and a rehabilitation center for those who need a detox.”

  “So, why all the armed guards?”

  “A few reasons,” Bert said, shrugging. “Not everyone appreciates Mack’s efforts. The strip club is a legitimate front and they make a ton of money from it, but Mack is involved in a number of other businesses, some not quite as legit. He manages to stay on fair terms with the local Hand of Magic authorities, but he has other enemies. Other vampire cliques, local gangs, activists, and others are constantly trying to push into his territory. On top of that, sometimes newly-turned vampires can’t adjust. Mack’s crew does what they can, but if a newb gets too violent they’ll put them down. And, this is the supernatural world, Hunter. It always pays to be well armed.”

  Finally, they made it to an office area with a receptionist. She welcomed Bert with a courteous smile and said the boss was waiting inside. Bert thanked her and they headed in.

  The room had a comfortable vibe. Plush carpets, soft couches, a full bar, strobe lights, and a stripper pole.

  Mack was dressed in black slacks and a silky dress shirt. He kept his hair short but styled, had a silver chain around his neck, a watch that cost more than Bert’s house, and a collection of rings on his fingers. When he spoke, his voice was deep and carried an African accent. “Hello, Waylon. It is always a pleasure, my friend.”

  “How’s it going, Mack?”

  “I can’t complain. Who’s your friend?”

  “A guy I know. Getting him acquainted with the supernatural world. Figured this was a good place to start.”

  The vampire stepped over to the bar. He poured himself a drink and said, “You are not so clever as to fool me, my wizard friend.”

  “Oh?”

  As he took a sip of his dark liquor, he said, “You wouldn’t bring someone here you didn’t trust, and you are obviously working because you didn’t ask me for a bourbon. And since I didn’t invite you here, you most certainly need something.”

  “There’s no fooling you,” Bert said, grinning. “I need information.”

  “The most expensive and sought after commodity in our world. But for you, it’s free of charge, of course.”

  “I appreciate it. It’s a simple thing, really. Have you heard of anything strange going down?”

  Mack raised an eyebrow. “Strange as in…?”

  “I don’t really know.”

  Mack shrugged. “No, nothing which comes to mind. However, I was hoping you wouldn’t come by.”

  Bert frowned. “Why is that?”

  “Becau
se there are vampires looking for you. A group of them. Nasty looking bunch. Gangsters. From St. Louis, I believe. They left a member behind. He’s still upstairs watching the dancers. I’m willing to bet his friends were notified of your arrival. Probably the moment you drew your staff on that ignorant-ass dancer. Who, by the way, will be reprimanded. Anyway, it sounds like trouble.”

  “Damn. Guess I shouldn’t stay long, then.”

  “Indeed. Though I doubt it matters.” He flipped out his phone. “The others have already arrived. They are waiting for you to return upstairs. Six of them.”

  Bert shook his head. “I’m surprised you let them in.”

  Mack sighed. “Politics, my friend. To remain neutral, I must allow any vampire to enter. Of course, if they cause a problem, that is a different story. It’s the only way to keep the hyenas at bay. These vampire gangs look for any excuse to take this place from my control. So, I must show respect to avoid the bloodshed.”

  “I understand. They aren’t likely to attack me here, anyway. I think I’ll go see what they want.”

  Mack smiled. “Yes, my overzealous and destructive friend. You are a guest in my home. If they attack you it will end with the loss of their lives. However, I must warn you, I don’t think you will want to incur their wrath. They are well armed and appear to be well trained. I could be wrong, but I believe it is their desire to push their gang into our territory. That scum bag Mills you deal with should be made aware of their presence as well.”

  Bert was surprised. “You want me to warn your competition?”

  Mack waved the notion away. “Mills is not my competition. He is my rival, but we have an understanding and mutual respect. Or at least, I do. These vampires seek power. Mark my word, Waylon, they are the next threat to the balance we have created here. While I don’t care for Mills, he is an acceptable adversary.”

  “Fair enough. I was planning on stopping by to see him, anyway.”

  Mack put his hand up to his chest. “Your words hurt me, my friend. Consorting with my rival.”

  Bert laughed. “Yeah, yeah, well I really need information which no one seems to have.”

  “It is a strange matter of business which neither the lawman Carter, nor the wise Falcon, nor myself know anything about. Is there something I should be concerned about?”

  “I don’t really know, yet. But if it looks like it’ll impact your operation I’ll let you know.”

  “You are most gracious, my wizard friend.”

  “Laying it on thick with the sarcasm today,” Bert said, then turned to Hunter. “Take my keys. Mack, can you get him out through a back door or something?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Hunter, get the Beast started, and be ready to go, just in case.”

  “Wait,” Hunter said, “are you sure you’ll be all right?”

  “No worries,” Bert said, slapping him on the shoulder. “I’ve been doing this a while.”

  “Okay,” Hunter said, taking Bert’s keys.

  “I’ll meet you outside. Mack, thanks for the hospitality.”

  “Always a pleasure,” Mack replied.

  Bert turned and headed back the way he’d come.

  ***

  He entered the supernatural room and took note of the four vampires watching him from a corner table. Which meant two were hiding in the crowd. He thought he made out one, but that left another unaccounted for.

  No point in being subtle. He approached their table. Each wore clean pressed suits and reeked of confidence. Bert agreed with Mack’s assessment. They were dangerous.

  Bert grinned and said, “I hear you fellas want to speak with me.”

  The oldest-looking vampire peered up at him and said, “You are Waylon Drake.”

  He sounded like he’d been pulled straight out of a mob movie.

  “And you are?”

  “Who I am is none of your fucking business. We’re interested in hiring you to do a job.”

  “Is that so?”

  “It is. Word has it you’re pretty good. They say you killed that wizard Senechal.”

  “Who is ‘they’?” Bert asked. “Oh wait, let me guess, that’s none of my fucking business.”

  “You learn quick,” the vampire said, smirking. “The only thing you need to know is you work for me.”

  Bert’s patience dwindled. He’d been threatened by far scarier foes than a few vampire mobster wannabees.

  The vampire continued, “Word has it a powerful piece of merchandise will be rolling through this area soon. I don’t know what it is or who has it, but what I do know…is you’re going to find it for me.”

  Bert chuckled. “Oh, and are you going to pay me for this little job?”

  The vampire nodded. “Yeah, if you come through we won’t kill you.”

  “And I should be concerned about your threats, why?”

  The man snapped his fingers. Bert felt sharp steel pressed against his neck. He couldn’t turn his head for fear of slitting his throat, but glancing down he saw the blade was a katana. The sword was held by an Asian man in similar attire to the others. He had appeared out of thin air. Well, looks like I found number six, he thought.

  The lead vampire waved his hand and the sword backed away from Bert’s throat. The sword wielder gave Bert a fanged smiled and disappeared again. A vampire that was a magic user. Flipping great.

  He turned back to the leader. “All right. When you make an offer like that, how can I refuse?”

  “I had a feeling you’d see things our way,” he said, scribbling on his napkin. “Call this number when you have our merchandise. And just in case you get any funny ideas, I’ve got enough firepower and magic to start a small war. You fuck with us, you will incur our wrath.”

  Bert pocketed the number. “Well, this has been fun.”

  The leader turned back to his drink. “Fuck off.”

  “Yeah, you too, asshole,” Bert said as he strolled toward the door.

  ***

  Hunter seemed quite relieved to see Bert return. As Bert approached the Beast, he nodded at his friend and opened the door. Before he got all the way in, he leaned back out and waved at the tree line with a giant grin.

  Hunter frowned. Bert shrugged and hopped in the passenger seat. He motioned for Hunter to drive, then rubbed the small nick on his neck. The magic-wielding vampire had been a surprise. He wondered how many they had.

  Hunter interrupted his thoughts. “So, what did they want?”

  “That’s another thing about the supernatural world you need to understand,” Bert said with a chuckle. “There are some things you just can’t know the answer to. Sometimes knowing is dangerous. Some people want to keep their business to themselves. Sometimes I get involved in things I can’t talk about.”

  “Okay, I’m a cop. I get it. Can’t always be blabbing about cases. So, where are we headed next?”

  “One of the best information sources around.”

  “Who’s that?”

  “This one, you’re absolutely not going to believe.”

  Chapter 19

  They pulled up a dirt driveway and parked near an old barn with a rusted tractor sitting beside it.

  Bert and Hunter hopped out of the Beast and walked up a beaten path to an even more beaten down house. No paint remained on the siding, but instead faded wood grayed with age made up the exterior. Half of the roof was missing shingles, and those which remained were so raggedy they wouldn’t offer any protection from the rain.

  Hunter rubbed his bald head and said, “Uh, Bert, what kind of creature lives in a house like this?”

  Bert smiled and walked up to the door. When he knocked it swayed on the hinges.

  A few moments later, a fat man wearing a greasy white tank top and yellow stained underpants came to the door. He didn’t say anything but just stared at them with a jaw full of tobacco.

  “We’re here to see the hound,” Bert said.

  The man rubbed his ginormous belly and spit a stream of tobacco on his
floor. “Out back.”

  He turned and closed the door without another word. Bert didn’t bother to thank him through the door. Instead, he followed a weeded path around behind the house. As they came around the back, the smell of chicken feces dominated his senses. The old chicken coup barely stood, but a few healthy chickens milled around within.

  Standing beside the chicken coup was a hound dog. It turned its head and looked at Bert and Hunter.

  Bert grinned. “How’s it going, pal?”

  The dog stared at him.

  “Don’t be shy. He’s my friend.”

  The dog still just looked at him.

  “Come on, Hound. I vouch for him.”

  In a husky voice, the dog said, “I don’t care for strangers, Waylon.”

  Hunter’s eyes widened and his jaw nearly landed in chicken poop.

  “And that is why I don’t like strangers,” the hound dog said.

  “Oh, come on,” Bert replied. “It’s not like I told him beforehand. He’s just never seen a talking dog. Hunter, don’t be rude. Say hello.”

  “Uh, hi, I’m Hunter. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

  The dog stared at Hunter for a moment then said, “Yeah, you too. Most people just call me Hound.”

  “House looks good,” Bert said.

  “The hell it does. I can’t get that fat bastard to do anything. I’m going to have to find a new roommate.”

  Bert shrugged. “I’d offer to let you stay at my house, but I don’t know what kind of hoodlums come in and out of this place at all times of the night.”

  “If only you knew.” The Hound sighed. “So, what do you want, Waylon?”

  “Information.”

  “Why the hell else would you be here? I swear. Damn humans.”

  Bert chuckled. “I need to know if you’ve heard of anything strange going on lately?”