by R.E. Packer
THE ELDER WITCHES
By R.E. Packer
Copyright © 2015 R.E. Packer
All rights reserved.
ISBN:
ISBN-13:
To my wife Amy and my two wonderfully creative children, Zachary and Autumn. Thanks for putting up with me while I took the time to do this.
Chapter 1
It’s 4:30 in the morning, a pale but ordinary looking man is sitting at my kitchen table. He’s well dressed wearing a light gray suit and vest with a purple tie. A gold pocket watch peeked out of the pocket of his vest. His derby sat on the table in front of him. My pistol sat in front of me. His name is Reynolds, he’s known me for weeks, and he is a vampire.
Of course not a real vampire, but he insists he is. I would have called the cops already, if it wasn’t for the sketch of the woman he had pressed at me. He seemed sober, lucid and not out of his gourd. I wanted to see where this was going before letting them haul him off to the loony bin. Showing up at a strangers dingy apartment in the middle of the night certainly classified as suspicious behavior. I needed to find out If he already hurt or killed the woman in the picture.
Of course I knew who it was, I had seen her earlier that day at work, and for the past few weeks. Her name is Gwendolyn Keane, the daughter of tycoon Marianna Brookshire. The rumors around the office were that they came from old money. One of those families that have always been rich.
“Stay there,” I said.
Jumping up, taking my pistol with me, I kept an eye on him while I got the a file folder laying on the coffee table in the living room, which was the only other room besides the bedroom and the bathroom.
Inside the folder was a photo of Gwendolyn Keane. I’d gotten the folder with her picture when we’d gotten the contract to protect her. I laid the open folder on the table next to the picture in his beat up sketchbook. Then I sat back and waited for his reaction.
Reynolds had a blank look on his face and he sat too… still. Just his eyes watching. It reminded me of a painting of Jesus my aunt had when I was a kid.
“How is it that you know her? And why are you at my apartment?” I asked now that my sleep addled brain was clearing some. He knew more than some confused eccentric or somebody had forgotten to take their medication, which I presumed he was. And he had obviously been close enough to her that he had sketched a very good likeness of her.
“We’ve known her for many years. We just learned about you this week,” he said speaking slowly, as if to a child.
“We? You’re acquaintances with her? Enemies maybe?” I said throwing out possibilities as they came to me, hoping to get a reaction form the man. But he sat there like a mannequin, barely moving, not bothered in the slightest by anything I said. Jim Langhorne, my boss at Langhorne Investigation had given me the folder as my next assignment a few days before I started. All files were kept confidential, so how did this guy even know I was working with her.
“Did Langhorne put you up to this?” I asked not believing Jim would do anything of the sort.
“No sir, I have never met Mr. Langhorne,” he said. “Again, I do apologize. If this was not an emergency I would not have come at such an uncivilized hour. We are not on good terms with Gwendolyn, or her mother, or her sister. This was the most direct route to get a message to her,” he said.
I frowned. “Why didn’t you email her or send a text message? Or for that matter, send her a letter,” I said.
“It’s too important for anything less than a personal message and she’s still… angry, thinking we tried to kill her--”
“Tried to kill her?” I said raising an eyebrow.
“It’s complicated and it was with the past leader of the Green Conclave. He wanted to use her blood to create an army. The witches lineage can create much stronger newborn than we can. I was not a part of the debacle. However, the witches are not very forgiving.”
“Witches… great,” I murmured. “Okay sir, have you seen her today? Have you hurt her?” I said, not wanting to call her at this hour, but no doubt would be shortly to verify her safety.
“No of course not. I don’t think we could harm her if we wanted to, unless we got extremely lucky.”
“You said lineage. I thought vampires just bit somebody to create another one,” I said playing along.
“Yes, that’s true, but the witches blood is much more potent,” he said.
I stared blankly and sighed.
“Okay, give me your message and I’ll tell her” I said trying to placate him. It was clear he didn’t have a sane thought left in his head, getting him out was the best course of action.
He didn’t say anything, dark eyes gazing at me. “You don’t believe any of this,” he said with an exaggerated sigh. Something about the motion looked out of place on him.
Before I could reply I saw a blur of motion streak toward me, and a breeze buffeted my face. Alarmed, I grabbed the gun but before I got a good grip he was seated again and I felt something odd about the gun. As I pointed the gun in his direction I realized the slide was in the locked back position. It hadn’t been before. Then I saw the bullets on the table in front me of me, standing on end. They were arranged to make a letter V. The pistol’s magazine lay on its side next to them. Tilting the gun in my hand I could see the empty mag well of my .45.
I looked at the man in the gray suit. He picked a piece of lint from his sleeve not looking in my direction.
“You did that,” I said nodding at the bullets on the table. A small ice cube of fear sat in my gut. That wasn’t humanly possible, but if he wasn’t human than what he said was true, he was a vampire. I took a deep breath to steady my nerves.
“Yes, you needed to know this is real. You must speak to Gwendolyn,” he said.
I picked up the magazine and started feeding bullets into it, jamming the magazine into the pistol with a satisfying crack.
“Okay, I give. What’s this message that has you dressed for church and wandering the streets at this hour?”
He remained silent for a moment. “You must tell her they are in danger, as are my people.”
“Your people, the vampires?” I said.
“Yes, a government agency called ORAB has created a weapon. Our person inside said they can use it to kill the vampires and the elder witches.”
“A government agency…”
“They will believe you. They trust you,” he said.
“They barely know me mister. I’m just the the help.”
“You’re more than that…”
“Why are you trusting me with your secrets?”
“Another good question for you to ask your current employers,” Reynolds said smiling for the first time.
Sunrise was still about an hour away, but bed was a lost hope now. I stood up, put the gun in the back of the waistband of my jeans, and headed over to the coffee maker.
“I don’t suppose you drink coffee,” I said.
“Yes, I’m old enough that coffee and tea are able to be enjoyed again. But I must be going.”
I pressed the start button on the coffee maker that I had prepared before going to bed. When I turned around the room was empty. On the table were Reynolds had sat was a business card. ‘Reynolds Antiquities’ was embossed on the front with a local address. On the back was a phone number in neat hand writing. Below the number was a small sketch of the three women I worked for.
