The Vampire Files, Volume Two

by P. N. Elrod

  “Tie it up good,” came Angela’s muffled voice. “I don’t want the weights slipping out when we drop him in.”

  Newton muttered something, busy with his work. They tied off the top end of the rug just above my head and wound the rope fast around my feet and legs. The latter made me think of my last, my very last, moments of life when Fred Sanderson had tied a weight to my ankles, just before Frank Paco had …

  “You hear something?” asked Newton.

  “Like what?”

  “I heard something … like a whimper or a moan.”

  “Coming from him? Doc may be a drunk, but he knows a stiff when he sees one. I’ve never seen him so cross-eyed that he—”

  “But I was sure I heard … maybe this guy had some kind of fit. He could still be alive.”

  “And so what if he is?” she asked pointedly.

  “Okay,” he said after a moment. “I get you.”

  They finished the job without further talk.

  Lester walked in. “We got Vic loaded into the truck, Angela.”

  “Good. Where’s Mac?”

  “On his way.”

  “Soon as he’s here, the three of you get this one out and wait for me. I have to find my coat.”

  “What about Doc? Is he comin’?”

  “Yes. He’ll be looking after Daddy when we get him back. Your job will be to look after Doc. Keep him on his feet until this is over.”

  That got her a laugh as she dashed out.

  Mac came in and the three of them puffed and cursed and carried me with all the barbell weights to the truck. Throughout, I said nothing, did nothing, I was totally helpless, a bundle of bone and muscle unable to respond to my chaotic brain. They dropped me onto the metal floor of the truck. The fifty-pound disks had each slipped a little out of place. The one on my chest bumped painfully under my chin. Much more shifting and I’d have a crushed windpipe.

  A long wait and then a stream of voices as they climbed into the truck. Its big motor turned and coughed to life, and with a rough shift of gears lurched away. I caught the full effect of the uneven road and was unable to protect myself from unexpected dips and turns.

  No orderly, reasoned thoughts came to me. I was operating strictly on emotion, the primary ones of fear and anger. Each added a certain strength to my unconscious internal fight, but neither was generating any workable ideas for escape. Had I been able to vanish, no doubt I would have done so. Had I been capable of movement, I would have struggled. But my body was quite separated from my brain and my brain was barely awake. Just enough of it worked to acknowledge danger, but that was all.

  Newton’s voice was pitched to be heard above the rumble of the truck. “So what about it, Doc? You sure this guy’s really croaked?”

  “You sure you haven’t been into Frank’s home brew? Course he’s dead.”

  “But what about what I heard?”

  “Probably just some air wheezing out of the lungs. When you move a body around that can happen. Spooky the first time, but you get used to it.”

  “Maybe you are. I thought that he might still be alive, but just had some kind of a fit.”

  “Like catalepsy?”

  “I guess.”

  “No, he didn’t have those symptoms or he’d have been stiff as a board when you found him. No signs of epilepsy, either.”

  “Then why’d he die?”

  “Still worried that it might be catching?”

  “Yeah, why not?”

  “Good question, my friend. Wish I had an answer for you. I don’t know what killed him: catalepsy, concussion, or cussedness, and I’m not ready to ask Angela if I can perform a quick autopsy just to satisfy your curiosity. None of it really matters, he’s still going into the lake and the fish can worry about him for you.”

  “But the way he just dropped dead …”

  “Newton, sooner or later we all drop dead, ’specially in this business. My advice is not to think about it and drink enough of this stuff down so you don’t give a damn when it finally does happen.”

  Newton growled a dissatisfied disagreement to that and subsided.

  My fingers suddenly twitched. Since my mind wasn’t up to coherent thinking, I didn’t notice at first, and attached little importance to it when I did.

  “Think he’s gonna haunt you, Newton?” asked Lester with a laugh.

  “Don’t be a wise-ass.”

  “That it, Fleming? You gonna haunt him?” He nudged me with his foot.

  The weight on my chest moved, settling more firmly against my windpipe. A gagging sound that only I could hear escaped. I tried to turn from it and succeeded in easing the pressure a little.

  “I think Newton reads too much.”

  “And you don’t read at all.”

  “Yeah, that’s why I ain’t gonna be haunted like you. What’s the point wasting your time on something that ain’t real? You won’t catch me noodling around with that kid stuff.”

  “Knock it off, Lester,” ordered Doc. “Everyone knows what you noodle around with.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “What do you think? And if you keep it up you’ll go blind. Did you know that?”

  “You drunken lush. I oughta—”

  “Lay off, all of ya,” complained Mac. “My head’s killin’ me.”

  “Then have a drink,” said Doc. They passed the flask around, which helped restore peace.

  My hands had progressed from spastic twitching to controlled clenching. As far as was possible within the mummylike wrappings of carpet and rope, I formed fists and flexed muscles. Some of the wordless fears spinning in my brain ebbed away.

  “You see that?” asked Newton.

  “More haunting, huh?”

  “Can it, Les. I saw his feet move.”

  I went very still, which was a conscious decision, the first real one I’d made in what seemed like hours.

  “It was just the truck bouncing,” said Doc.

  “But did you see it?”

  “Yeah, and it was the truck and this lousy light playing around.”

  “You wanna really be spooked, you shoulda helped me and Mac with Vic. What a mess. Had to line his rug up with old newspapers to keep the blood from soaking straight through.”

  “Les, will you shut the hell up about it!”

  “Sorry, Mac,” he snickered.

  The gears ground and we slowed and turned. The road got worse, distracting them from their conversation. I took the opportunity and chanced a limited stretch. No one noticed.

  “This is it,” said Newton. “Everyone check your hardware.”

  The truck rolled to a stop, the brakes squealing crankily. The motor cut off and the front doors opened and slammed.

  “Douse the light.”

  The back doors were also opened and the men filed out. Their voices became fainter and less identifiable.

  “See anything?”

  “Yeah, he’s already here. There’s the running lights of the yacht.”

  “For what we are about to receive …”

  “They’re putting out a boat.”

  “… may we be truly thankful.”

  “Can it.”

  Their attention elsewhere, I flexed and stretched again, reveling in the return of feeling. Because of the weights and rug, it wasn’t at all pleasant, but I knew I was still alive.

  “Wish they’d hurry.”

  “Spread out and check the place for anybody who don’i belong.”

  Then their voices faded altogether. I was alone in the stuffiest, most claustrophobic darkness that I’d ever known. Oddly enough, I no longer minded. The imminent alternative was Angela’s completion of the job her father began last summer—dropping me to the bottom of Lake Michigan.

  Without Newton and the others bickering around me, it was easy to lose track of time. I lay quietly and waited for more of my mind to clear. It was like struggling awake from a thick and restless sleep, the illusion compounded by the stuff I was wrapped in.
>
  “Sez you, I want to see for myself.” Chaven’s voice, coming up fast. My muscles tightened.

  “And I want to see my father,” said Angela, equally demanding.

  “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”

  “He better be or I’ll—”

  “First things first.” He climbed up into the truck. “Which one is he?”

  “There.”

  He began tugging at the ropes. Then I heard the snick of a knife and a snap as he sawed through one.

  “You’re messing it up,” Angela complained. “We had him all ready to—”

  “Save it, babe. If this is him, I’ll do you a favor and take him off your hands.”

  “What?”

  He cut quickly and forced apart the top half of the folded-up rug. I wisely remained as still as possible. Orange stains flickered over my eyelids as he checked my face with a flashlight. The cold, damp air coming in from the lake felt absolutely wonderful.

  “It’s him, all right.” He slapped my face once, then removed a glove and checked my neck for a pulse. Nothing there, of course.

  “Satisfied?” she asked.

  “More than you think. Ever since I laid eyes on this s.o.b. he’s been nothing but trouble. How’d you get him?”

  “I didn’t. We found him like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Dead, lame brain.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You mean he just waltzed into your house and dropped dead?”

  “That’s how it looked to Doc.”

  “That quack. Listen, Angela, nobody just drops dead. It’s too convenient.”

  “Miracles happen.”

  “Come on, you plugged him and just don’t want to say.”

  “I didn’t and if I had, I wouldn’t need to hide it from you. He looked god-awful for a while, said he had a bad stomach, and then he must have keeled over.”

  “A bad stomach? Who dies of a bad stomach?”

  “Who gives a damn?” she said, her voice rising. “We’re here to make a trade, so let’s get on with it.”

  But he was still digesting the news and tapped me again for assurance. “Don’t know how you did this, Angela, but I owe you one.”

  “Then get my father.”

  “You got him and welcome to him. Who’s the other stiff?”

  “Never mind him.”

  “I’ll just bet it’s Vic. Ah, don’t worry, I never trusted the creep, anyway. Here, you have your boys load these two up on the boat and I’ll save you the trouble of dumping them.”

  “Why are you so anxious to help?”

  “Because it’s something the boss wants to have done. I’m all set up for it and I think it’s about time things got a little nicer between us—your bunch and mine, that is.”

  Angela had a smile in her tone. “Don’t you mean my bunch and Kyler?”

  “Yeah, that’s what I meant. What d’ya say?”

  “I’ll talk it over with my father when he gets back.”

  “You got a one-track mind, but that’s okay. I’ll get things started. Deiter, give these guys a hand, just to show we’re all friends.”

  First Vic was dragged away, then came my turn. Bumpier and less secure than traveling in the trunk, they carried me to the dock. The top barbell weight finally slipped, coming out the top end of my rug. I was nearly dropped as the guy lugging my shoulders got his feet out of the way with a sharp curse. Somewhat out of breath, they agreed to keep going and come back for it later. My eyes were shut tight, but I knew when we’d moved out over the water. Right then and there I attempted to vanish and damn the consequences, but I hadn’t quite recovered enough for it to work.

  At least it was faceup, but the shock of impact against the wood was pretty bad when I landed, especially with the remaining weights on top. It was an effort holding in the grunts and groans resulting from their carelessness; now was not the time to effect a miraculous resurrection.

  When it seemed safe, I cracked an eyelid for a peek at things. No one was in view, so I opened both and drew in a full breath of sweet, damp air. The clouds had broken up; I could see the stars I’d missed before, a thousand tiny suns to dispel the last shadows in my mind. I wasn’t free yet, but they gave me hope.

  Crowded next to me was Vic, anonymous and shapeless in his improvised shroud. If nothing else, I knew him by his bloodsmell. Despite the inner lining of newspapers, the stuff was seeping through, creating huge red patches on the outer side of the rug. Rest in pieces, I thought, and promptly had to stifle my own sudden gagging.

  “What’s that?” came Newton’s sharp voice.

  “Another ghost?”

  “Lay off, or I’ll bust you one. I heard something.”

  “Yeah, the water gurgled, is all. Keep your eyes open, we ain’t exactly home free with these guys.”

  “Ah, don’t tell me my job.”

  Bad reaction on my part. Black humor and some stinking memories of the war that I thought I’d forgotten. Damn Angela and her grenades. Damn my own imagination for telling me what Vic must look like. Damn the Kaiser, too, and the joker who shot Archduke Ferdinand. Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn. Unable to vanish, I wrestled around to get my arms free of the rug.

  Newton was pacing around on the shore and I had to watch out for him in case he decided to check on the gurgling water for himself. He and Angela had done a good job with the ropes, though, and Chaven hadn’t cut away nearly enough to make much of a difference. I’d made no progress by the time he’d marched onto the dock with Opal, Angela, and the others.

  Chaven clapped his hands together for warmth. “Okay, let’s get things started. First trip, I take Opal back; next, I bring in your father; the last, I clean up your garbage.”

  Angela agreed, but only up to a point. “Two of my men go with Opal, you stay here.”

  “Hey, now …”

  “We’re all going to be friends, aren’t we, Chaven? Doc and Newton go along to help with my father. Deiter goes with them to keep things smooth.”

  “They leave their gats here, then.”

  “No, they don’t, or I’ll have you leave yours, too. Let’s keep things even.”

  “All right, but no trouble or everyone goes in the drink.”

  I made another attempt to vanish, a futile one. It should have been easier than this, especially since I was over water, but nothing happened. I was as solid as ever. I damned myself for a total idiot for taking in Sheldon’s polluted blood, but there’d been little else I could have done. Was it permanent or did I just need more recovery time? The way they were pushing things, I wouldn’t have very long to speculate.

  Opal was guided forward. She was short on complaints, perhaps preoccupied by her new employment and making plans on how to leave her old job when the time came. She was helped down into the boat, followed by Doc, Newton, and Deiter, which thinned down the crowd. I’d been concerned about getting stepped on, but everyone managed to avoid it. The oars creaked and water splashed as they shoved off.

  Chaven heaved a sigh that verged on the theatrical. “I’m glad this is working out so well for all of us, Angela.”

  Since it was a rather obvious conversational gambit, she spared him a return comment.

  Chaven bulled ahead without her cooperation. “Look, I need to talk with you.”

  “So talk.”

  “In private, not with a lot of others around. Since you don’t trust me, we can stay out here and your boys can watch us from the land. We’ll be in plain sight the whole time.”

  She thought it over. “All right.”

  “Angela …” said Lester, warningly.

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, I’ve got my chaperon with me. If Chaven tries anything I don’t like, I plug him. Got that, Chaven?”

  “I never argue with a lady.”

  Lester grumbled, but he and Mac retired to the land end of the dock.

  “Okay,” she said brightly. “What is it?”

  “
This whole deal about kidnapping your father … I just wanted you to know that it wasn’t my idea, that I didn’t want any part of it.”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “I mean that. It was all Kyler’s doing. I told him not to, but he wouldn’t listen.”

  “And now he’s come to his senses with this trade?”

  “You could say that. The truth is that there’s a lot of changes going on right now that you don’t know about.”

  “Really? What changes?” She sounded interested, but wary, playing it just right.

  “I wanta give it to you straight about Kyler—just between us.” Chaven lowered his voice slightly. “He’s on the way out.”

  Angela took her time before saying, “Uh-huh.”

  “That’s the straight stuff. He’s … well, he’s going nuts.”

  “Not funny, Chaven.”

  “I don’t mean it to be. If you’d seen him tonight, you’d know. That Fleming guy got him so jumpy that—”

  “What?”

  Chaven bumped his toe against me. “Well, Kyler got the idea that this mug could turn himself invisible. Now you can figure what the other guys thought.”

  “I can also figure what I think.”

  “Hey, I said he was crazy, not me. I never said I believed him.”

  Liar, I thought, and had half a mind to tell him so, but was too in terested in finding out his game to interrupt.

  “Anyway, there’s some big changes coming and you need to know about it.”

  “Why?”

  He hesitated. “With Kyler going out, someone else has to come in.”

  “And you’re it?” She was unimpressed.

  “I know how you feel, how things were after your father’s … accident. They really shoulda put you in charge of things, but the big boys said no, thinking that a broa—girl couldn’t cut it. I know that Frank had it planned for you to take it over a few years down the line.”

  “Which didn’t pan out.”

  “Yeah, but that don’t mean it couldn’t now.”

  “What’s your game?”

  “With Kyler out of the way, I move into the top spot, but I need more than just Deiter and Opal to hold things together. A lot of the boys di— don’t like Kyler, but they don’t dare quit.”