Chapter 18 - Hello Kitty Duct Tape Would Have Been Sweet

    A charcoal grey metal door parted in the middle and Lazarus Gorey stepped in to the small charcoal grey room. Four hooded Ninjas stood in a semicircle behind a man tied to a straight backed chair, who was also hooded. He squirmed while making muffled grunting noises.

    “We had to duck tape his mouth, boss,” one of the Ninjas said, “he wouldn’t shut up.”

    “It’s ‘duct tape’ not ‘duck tape’” Lazarus said.

    “What?”

    “Never mind.” Lazarus looked down at the seated figure. “There should be two of them. What happened to the woman?” he asked without looking up.

    “We thought we were only supposed to go after the doctor,” another Ninja said.

    Lazarus looked at him, his face reddening. “I didn’t tell you to take the doctor! I told you there were two people, a man and a woman, in a doctor’s office. Oh, for Christ’s sake, take that hood off him! And where the hell did you get a Hello Kitty hood anyway?”

    “At one of those stores where everything costs a dollar. You know, some stuff costs more than a dollar at those stores. Anyway, we ran out of black ones, so we chose  Hello Kitty,” said a third Ninja. He pulled the hood off to reveal a highly agitated Dr. Thornley. He became even more agitated and screamed when the tape covering his mouth was ripped away.

    “Holy shit, Gorey! Where did you find these knuckleheads? I told them they had the wrong person, but they wouldn’t listen to me!”

    “Sorry about that, Doc. I thought they understood their instructions, but apparently I was wrong.” Lazarus gestured to one of the Ninjas. “Are you going to untie him, or just leave him strapped to the chair forever?”

    The fourth Ninja began to undo the ropes while the doctor continued his rant. “You need to find better people, Laz. Guys like this could jeopardize the whole operation. What if...”

    Lazarus interrupted him. “Just calm down, Doc. Nothing’s jeopardized.”

    Thornley wasn’t appeased. “My goodness, Laz, my hands are numb. I told them the ropes were too tight. You can’t have people like this running around...”

    Lazarus leveled a dead man’s stare at him, then spoke without any inflection. “Knock it off.” Thornley immediately went silent.
   
    In an effort to contain his anger, rather than slaughtering everyone in the room because he was pissed off, Lazarus remembered his yoga training (he had been taught by the seventh Dalai Lama himself) and drew a deep cleansing breath. He spoke to the Ninjas. “First of all, I don’t want to see anymore Ninja outfits. You guys can’t hear your instructions clearly with those damn hoods on.”

    “But we love being Ninjas!” they cried in unison.

    Lazarus clenched both fists but his voice remained calm. “You are not real Ninjas. You were unemployed military contract workers when I found you. They said you were all highly recommended, but that was probably just to get rid of you numbskulls. No more Ninja business, do you understand me?”

    Dejected, the Ninjas all looked at the floor. “Yes, sir,” they said, again in unison.

    “Now, if you can manage it without duct tape and rope, take Thornley here back to his office and track down this Van Buren fellow and his girlfriend. The doctor will provide addresses and descriptions, right Doc?”

    “Yes,” he replied without looking at Lazarus.

    “Good. I don’t want to hear from anybody until those two are in this building, alive and well.” Lazarus turned on his heels and departed through the metal door that slid open without him pushing a button or turning a handle. Once on the other side Lazarus felt the stress rise within him. He knew Thornley was right, those military contractor rejects had the potential to foul up everything. All his hopes and dreams would be destroyed. Lazarus drew another deep breath. I hope these chowderheads can handle this, he thought, I don’t know why I let Dick Cheney talk me into hiring them. Must get to a happy place...puppy dogs, puppy dogs, that’s it, lick my face, good little puppy dogs.

    Once waves of calm began flowing through his body Lazarus took the elevator to his penthouse office suite. He was going to meet with his marketing people. Augusta would be there too. He stepped into the conference room and stood in the doorway. All eyes turned to him. Augusta turned in her chair and threw a disarming smile at him, causing a temporary melting of his heart until he regained his composure and his icy death stare. There was a trio of marketing people sitting opposite Augusta. Each made an effort not to appear nervous.

    Lazarus strode to his chair next to Augusta. Unlike the others in the room, it was leather and had a headrest. One by one, he looked each member of his marketing team in the eye. Darla Finnegan had blonde hair, perfect teeth and breasts paid for on an installment plan. Recently graduated from a high priced business school, Matthew Cardigan attempted genuine thought on occasion, but mostly his brain centered on clothes shopping. His suit was modern, in that it looked a size too small for him, his crimson bow tie was brand new, and his hair glistened with the most expensive gel he could find. Between them sat their boss, Hugh Ogilvy. His hair, streaked with grey, was longer than most men his age wore it, and he dressed with the casual indifference of an investment banker weekending on his yacht. After what seemed an eternity of silence to the three advertising people, Lazarus finally spoke. “Let’s begin. What have you got for me?”

    Ogilvy cleared his throat, then said, “Well, my team and I have been spending face time attempting a synergy of our idea flow. We’re making some formulations that would be congruent with social proof optimization...”

    Lazarus interrupted him. “You haven’t really done anything, have you?”

    “Well, we certainly...uhm...” Ogilvy spluttered.

    “Uh-huh.” Lazarus turned his focus to Matthew. “Bow tie, what have you done on this project?” Before Matthew could reply, Lazarus spoke. “I mean, other than shopping for bow ties all afternoon yesterday.”

    “Well, you are correct, I was shopping. It helps me clear my head and spurs my creativity. I was in a bit of a slump before I went bow tie hunting. I really like how they look, they’ve a great retro vibe going on. Bow ties are cool.”

    “No, they’re not. Neither is an adult with a faux-hawk hairstyle. Tell you what, bow tie, there’s an opening in the mail room. I’m filling it with you.”

    Matthew looked bemused. “Mail rooms still exist? That’s so quaint. Very retro. I love the concept.”

    “Good. Then you’ll be right at home there.”

    Matthew’s bemusement quickly disappeared. “Surely, you can’t be serious. I’m a creative person, an artist.”

    “You’re a mail room clerk now. I want you downstairs in ten minutes, licking stamps.”
   
    “I don’t think you need to lick the postage. There’re machines for that.”

    “I don’t care, I want you to lick them anyway.” Lazarus looked at Darla. “Blondie, I can only assume you’re here because you’re Hugh’s mistress.”

    Her lips parted to form a joyless smile that showcased the whiteness of her teeth. “Mr. Gorey, Hugh and I just good friends. I think you can see from my curriculum vitae...”

    He stopped her cold. “Your CV is a work of complete fiction. Don’t try to impress me with fancy terms, either. I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. I was born hundreds of years ago and I know bullshit when I smell it. My understanding is that you were in the ‘entertainment industry’ before you came here. I’m not going to ask for any details on what your job duties were.”

    Having finished with her, he spoke again to Ogilvy. “Hugh, we’ve done a lot of work together over the years.” His voice sounded wistful now. “Remember when we persuaded the government to send cigarettes to the troops during World War II? Got a lot of guys hooked on nicotine, and we made a lot of money in the cigarette business after the war, didn’t we?”

    Ogilvy nodded. A hint of fear flickered in his eyes, while a shadow of sadness crossed his face.

    Lazarus continued. “Then there was that time back in the 1800s, we helped the British get the Chinese addicted to opium. Good times, boy-o, good times. We were good at what we did, Hugh, and we made so much money we don’t need to work anymore. We can sit back, relax,” here he pointed at Darla, “have dalliances with show girls or whatever the hell she is. But, we don’t do that. We’re not the type to rest on our laurels. We keep working. Why? Because we love it, that’s why. You do still love the work, don’t you Hugh? You told me you did. You told me you’d always be on board with whatever scheme I came up with because you know I’m always going to win. Any game, we come out winners.”

    Their eyes were locked, Hugh thinking that if he looked away, Lazarus would pounce on him like a cat. He remained silent, knowing it was best to let Lazarus talk and get the anger and disappointment out of his system.

    “I’ve always had great faith in you, Hugh, you know that. You’ve always been loyal, ever since the day I changed you. I saw your potential, and I gave you a life you never could have imagined. That’s why I don’t understand, that with the biggest job ever for us, the one that will bring us untold riches, and even more importantly, untold power, you chose to slack off. That upsets me, Hugh.  We’re close to making centuries of dreams come true. So I have to ask, do I still have your loyalty? Or have I lost you?” Lazarus felt his anger rise, but he didn’t bother to take another deep breath. “Tell me, Hugh, is there any good reason I shouldn’t take you out on the patio, gut you like a fish and grill your entrails for dinner on my brand new Char-Master 3000? It’s a professional, chef grade grill. I really like it, but I haven’t used it that much. I don’t know how it would handle human organs. You were once a human, weren’t you?”

    “Yes, Laz, I was.

    “Never quite sure with you ad men.”
    “I’m still human, Laz, sort of. That’s why I made a mistake. I don’t know why, but I got lazy. It won’t happen again.”

    “Good. If your end of the project goes well, you can keep blondie and you’l get a ton of money and share a whole lot of power with me and Augusta.” Lazarus leaned forward over the table, close enough for Ogilvy to feel his warm breath as he spoke. “If you let me down again, there is nowhere on this planet that you can hide from me. Do I make myself clear?”

    “Yes.”   

    Suddenly, as if dark clouds that had been filled with lightning and thunder evaporated to reveal warm sunlight, Lazarus brightened. He leaned back and smiled. “Excellent. We need to get moving a little more quickly than we thought. Things are happening now and we may be on the verge of a breakthrough. That’s why I need you to get it in gear, Hugh. To make sure that happens, you’re going to report to Augusta. From here on in, she’s in charge of all marketing, advertising, and any related issues. Clear everything with her first. She speaks for me. She’s also got some scripts for commercials that can be run on television, the Internet, that sort of thing. She understands all the social networking, the Twitterverse, you know, all that crap I haven’t figured out yet, but now that Augusta is here, I don’t need to.”

    Augusta wisely saw the need to boost Ogilvy’s ego. “I’m sure we’ll enjoy working with each other, Hugh. Lazarus has told me about all that you’ve done together over the years. You’re an extraordinary person and I’m honored to be involved with you on this.”

    Hugh nodded and gave her a wan smile.

    Lazarus looked with admiration at Augusta. “Isn’t she good? She’s the yin to my yang.” He raised himself from his chair, and Augusta stood up beside him. “Well, this was fun. Now let’s go forth and get things done.”

Chapter 17 - Well, well, well he'll make you...

    “I really don’t think you exercise five to seven times a week.” Adriana was looking over Martin’s shoulder as he filled out numerous forms asking about medical history, diet and overall physical fitness. They were here to see Doctor Bram Thornley, a physician who quietly helped vampires with medical issues.

    “I walk a lot,” Martin replied.

    “True. Still, I’m not sure that it counts as exercise.”

    He was incredulous. “Of course it does. Walking is the best exercise you can get and it’s easy on your joints.”

    “Maybe, but for it to be exercise you have to walk quickly enough to get your heart rate up. I noticed, when you walk, you just sort of amble.”

    “Amble?”

    “Yeah, amble. It’s sort of like a saunter. Either way, you don’t walk very fast.”

    “Whatever.” Martin looked apprehensive. “Are you sure this is okay? I mean, he knows about, you know, the kind of people we are?”

    “Oh, absolutely. He’s very well known in the community. He’s a friend of Bela.”

    “He’s a what now?”

    “A friend of Bela. You know, like Bela Lugosi, the guy who played Dracula. It means he’s a friend of the community. He knows all about our existence and he doesn’t have a problem with us. He’s made a point of learning how to treat us for various ailments and whatnot.”

    “I hope I don’t have any whatnot,” Martin said. “It seems like a nice enough place, but there’s something a little off in here, a little creepy.”

    Adriana looked around. “You’re right. I think it’s the carpeting. He should pick a different color.” Indeed, the room had a bloody glow about it. The carpet was a deep crimson and looked as if it had been soaked in blood. “With his clientele, he should choose something brighter. Or maybe he did it on purpose, trying to tell us we’re all blood brothers.”

    “Uh-huh. This place gives me the heebie-jeebies. I think we should go.”

    “Nonsense,”Adriana answered him sternly. “We have an appointment. He’s a good guy, just give him a chance.”

    “I don’t know,” Martin said in a whimpering tone.

    “Stop being such a wuss. What’s the worst that could happen? That he confirms you’re not a vampire?”

    “Okay, okay. I’ll sit quietly.”

    “That would be different.”

    Martin gazed around the room. Jackie, the receptionist, gave him a smile then turned her attention back to her computer. Was she a vampire? Doubtful. Too pleasant looking. She didn’t appear to be the type who could sink her teeth into someone’s neck. He looked at the other patients waiting to see the doctor. Across from him sat a grey haired woman wearing a sweatshirt with a photo of three kittens. Above the photo the statement “World’s Greatest Cat Mom” was emblazoned in capital red letters. Could this kindly looking lady reading Good Housekeeping possibly be a blood sucker? What about the teenage boy watching a baseball game on the flat screen TV in the corner? Vampire or normal? Martin couldn’t tell, and wondered if he ever would be able to.

    After a few more minutes of studying the patients, a nurse led Martin and Adriana into an examination room. He sat in the chair next to the desk, while she jumped up on the table and laid down.

    “Make yourself at home,” Martin told her.

    “I love these exam tables,” she said. “I wish I could sleep on one all the time. I like the crunch of the paper underneath my body. You know, people could save a lot on laundry if bed sheets came on rolls and were made of thin white paper. Although, a little design on them wouldn’t hurt, maybe snowflakes in winter, floral patterns in summer.”

    “I think you’re nuts.”

    There was a knock at the door, to which Adriana said, “Don’t bother knockin’, doc, just come on in.”

    Dr. Bram Thornley stepped in to the room. He was neither short nor tall, round around the middle, and wore thick lensed glasses through which dark, friendly eyes squinted. Curly salt and pepper hair framed a jowly face.

    “Adriana, my dear, how are you?” He gave her a quick handshake, then, without waiting for a reply, turned his attention to Martin. “You must be Mr. Van Buren. You’re my second patient with a presidential name. I had a John Kennedy once. Didn’t look anything like the real JFK. Do you resemble your namesake? I have to admit I have no idea what President Van Buren looked like. He was before my time.” Again he didn’t wait for a reply, but rather sat down on a stool in front of the desk and asked, “So what brings you two here today?”

    Adriana spoke up. “Martin thinks he’s not a vampire anymore, and quite frankly, I’m a little worried about myself, too. My appetite seems to be off.”

    Thornley spun around on his stool to face her, leaned back against the edge of the desk, and crossed his arms. “Hmmm, I have to admit, I’ve never heard of anyone transforming in the opposite direction. That would be one for the medical journals, if indeed they covered vampirism, which they do not. Freakin’ JAMA, always about the normals and their problems. You know, one of these days, the medical profession is going to find out they’ve been missing out on treating a whole section of society, and then, boy, will there be egg on their faces. So anyway, what the heck were we talking about again? Oh yeah, you don’t think you’re vampires anymore. So, Adriana, let’s hear the story.”

    She explained to Thornley how she and Martin met, and how sick she was immediately after biting him. At first, Martin then seemed to have vampire characteristics, but they wore off, and now even she didn’t feel the need to feed on blood anymore.

    “You know, it’s kinda depressing, doc,” she confessed to him. “I always enjoyed the taste of blood. Warm and salty, like a comfort food that your mom would make you, if she were a blood sucker.”

    “I understand,” Thornley told her. “Who doesn’t love comfort food?” He turned to Martin. “So, tell me a little about yourself. What do you do for a living, what kind of food do you eat, that sort of thing.”

    “Well,” Martin replied, “I’m in between jobs at the moment.”

    “He hasn’t worked in years,” Adriana interjected. “He sits around his mom’s house and reads or sleeps or whatever.”

    “Hmmm,” Dr. Thornley said.

    “I try to eat healthy, you know, when I can.”

    Adriana let out a derisive snort. “Oh, brother, what a liar you are. Tell him what you had for breakfast.”

    Martin looked the doctor in the eye and tried to appear earnest. “I had some frozen waffles.”

    Once more, Adriana snorted. “Oh, please. You ate an entire box of frozen waffles and instead of syrup you poured a whole bottle of chocolate sauce over them. You did have something kind of healthy, though. You drank a glass of orange juice with your waffles.”

    “Hmmm,” Dr. Thornley said again. He stared at the wall, lost in thought. Finally, he spoke. “Well, there are some tests we could run, do a full blood panel on Martin, and you too, Adriana, see what’s going on there. Maybe something in his system caused your illness, Adriana. Tell me, Martin, have you always eaten this way?”

    “Yep, pretty much. Once I was off baby food, I got to be quite demanding about what I wanted to eat, at least that’s what my mother tells me.”

    “And Adriana, you were feeling fine before you transformed Martin?”

    “Fit as a fiddle. Never had a problem ‘til I met this guy.” She leaned over and spoke to the doctor in a stage whisper. “I think he’s the anti-vampire.”

    Thornley looked at her. “Hmmm,” he said.

    Frustrated with hearing nothing but “hmmm” she asked, “What do you think is the matter with us, doc?”

    “This is a very unusual case, very unusual indeed. Would you excuse me for a moment?” He got up and left the room.

    When he was gone for a few seconds, Martin looked at Adriana and said, “He’s a little nuts, isn’t he?”

    “Maybe a tad eccentric, but a lot of smart people are.”

    Outside their room, Thornley stood in the corridor, pulled out his cell phone, and pressed number one on the speed dial. When number one answered, Thornley said, “Regarding your Worldwide Mission, I think I have someone here for you...yes, really. He may be exactly what you’re looking for. There’s two of them, male and female. She’s a dark sider, but thinks she was cured when she bit him, and his symptoms only lasted a few days...no, I’m not kidding...yes, I believe them, I know her, and I think she’s telling the truth...ten minutes? Of course. I’ll tell them I need to run some tests. They’re in the last room, by the back door. Easy in, easy out...you’re welcome. Goodbye.”

    Thornley poked his head into the exam room. “I’m ordering some tests for both of you, so we can find out just what’s going on. It may be a while, so get comfortable. I’ll have Jackie bring you some coffee.” He pulled his head back, and retreated to his office.

    “I don’t like needles,” Martin said as beads of sweat formed on his forehead. “I really hate getting shots.” He began to feel faint.

    “You really are a wussy boy, aren’t you?”
   
    “Yes, yes, I am.”

    “Maybe it’s a good thing you may not be a vampire. I don’t think you’re cut out for it. I thought I could help you, but boy, you may be beyond help.”

    Jackie arrived, smiling, and delivered two paper cups filled with coffee. When she was gone, Martin said, “I’ll bet she’s not a vampire. She looks too nice.”

    “What, you think I don’t look nice?” She shook her fist at him. “I oughta sock you  right on the kisser.”

    “Whatever. I have to pee.”

    “Thanks for sharing. There’s a bathroom across the hall.”

    He put his cup down on the desk and went through the doorway. Focused solely on relieving himself, Martin did not look in either direction as he crossed the hall. If he had looked to his left, he would surely have noticed the four men dressed as Ninjas entering through the back door.

Chapter 16 - The Pluses and Minuses of a High Calorie, Sugar Loaded, Preservative Laden Diet

    “I’m not sure I’m a vampire anymore,” Martin said as he stared at his half emptied mug of hot chocolate.

    Adriana took a few sips of her black coffee while she pondered what Martin had said. Sitting at a table in Maria’s cafe, morning customers buzzed all around them, ordering caffeinated products and breakfast sandwiches to go. No one paid them any attention, which is just as well when you’re discussing whether you’re a vampire. Finally, she spoke. “What the hell are you talking about?” 

    “I said, I don’t think I’m a vampire anymore. I’m not sure how much of a vampire I really was anyway.”

    “There aren’t degrees of vampirism, you either are one or you’re not. Besides, it’s not something you can just give up, like cigarettes or the priesthood. This is what you are now. Once you sprout fangs, that’s it, there’s no giving them back.”

    “But I just don’t feel it anymore.”

    “Really?” Adriana felt her ire rising. “You’ve been a vampire for all of forty-eight hours or something like that, and all of a sudden you know what being a vampire feels like? Ride it out for a few centuries of blood sucking mayhem, running from angry torch bearing villagers, go through stretches where you’re going mad with blood lust but you just can’t find the time or place to satisfy your needs, then get back to me about what a vampire is supposed to feel like.”

    Martin looked at her incredulously. “First of all, if I understand correctly, you were only transformed a few years ago, so you’ve been an active blood sucker for less than one-tenth of a century. Secondly, when have you ever been chased by angry villagers?”

    “Well, technically, never. There was one time when a hospital security guard with a flashlight ran after me. I was trying to steal plasma. He slipped on some ice and broke his leg or a hip or something and I got away with the plasma.” She looked wistful. “Whew, good times.” Adriana suddenly appeared thoughtful. “What makes you think you’re not a vampire anymore?”

    “That whole vampire charm ‘groove thang’ thought control stuff? Well, that seems gone. Doesn’t work anymore. You saw how the ladies treated me when we were walking here. Yesterday, I thought Catherine was going to jump me, today she was indifferent, to say the least, and Amelia looked right through me, just like before. Joanie’s not interested either. In fact she seemed a little hostile when I order my hot chocolate. I think she spit in it.”

    “Really?” Adriana smiled lasciviously. “She gave me a nice warm smile with my coffee.”

    “Well, bully for you.”

    "What does that mean, 'bully for you'? Who says stuff like that?"

    "Teddy Roosevelt used to say when he was very pleased with something."

    "Well, he was the last one to use that expression, and he's been dead for over a hundred years. Anyway, I have to admit, ever since I drank your blood, I haven’t quite felt myself. Maybe there’s something up with you. You know, maybe you’re like an anti-vampire or something. You could be some kind of freak of nature.”

    “Yes, of course,” he said, “you drink blood, but I’m a freak of nature.”

    Adriana chuckled. “Well, yours would be a unique situation. I’ve never known anyone to get transformed then be untransformed.”

    “Is that a word?”

    “Is now.” Adriana watched with a mix of horror and amusement as Martin ate a chocolate brownie the size of a baseball in three quick bites. “You’re like one of those snakes that swallows it prey whole. You might want to think about chewing next time.” Then an idea dawned on her. “Do you always eat like this?”

    “You mean quickly?”

    “No, I mean junkily.”
   
    “Okay, that is not a real word.”

    “Whatever. Here’s the thing. In the short time I’ve known you, you’re almost constantly eating something and it’s never anything good for you.”

    “Said the woman who drinks human blood.”

    “Can we get off that for a moment? Listen to me, you’re always eating something that’s bad for you, never anything fresh.”

    “That’s not true,” he interrupted her. “The other day I had...uh, I had...anyway, go on with what you were saying.”

    “You eat a lot of sweets, lots of sugar, but lots of high fructose corn syrup, too. Who knows what kind of genetically modified craziness is going on there?”

    “How do you know about genetically modified food?”

    
    “There’s more to me than amazingly good looks and an excellent fashion sense. If a girl is gonna live for a few centuries, she’s gotta take of herself. I don’t smoke, I drink in moderation, and I exercise. Feels these abs. Hard as a rock. Go on, feel them, you know you want to.”

    Martin looked down shyly as he swirled the dregs of his hot chocolate around in his mug. “I don’t want to, really,” he mumbled.

    “Sure you do.” Adriana grabbed his hand and placed it on her midsection. Taken aback by the firmness, he exclaimed, “Wow, I’m impressed.”

    “You should be. Play your cards right and I’ll let you feel my biceps next time. Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh, yeah, your craptacular diet.”

    “Hey! It’s not that bad.”

    “Yes, it is. When’s the last time you had a vegetable?” Martin thought about it without answering. “Yeah, you don’t even remember. It’s all sweets and processed foods. I mean, I saw a jar of pickled kielbasa in your refrigerator? Pickled kielbasa? Really? Who knew such a thing existed?”

    “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it,” he replied. “It was weird but good.”

    “Whatever. The main thing is, it probably wasn’t good for you. Nothing I’ve seen you eat is. Maybe your diet is what holds the key.”

    Martin held the mug upside down so the dregs of the hot chocolate dribbled slowly into his mouth. Adriana slapped him lightly on the back of his head. “Would you knock that off and pay attention to me?”

    “I was paying attention. You said my diet is the key.” He paused for a moment, then asked, “The key to what?”

    “The key to the fact that both of us may not be vampires anymore. Quite frankly, I haven’t had a taste for blood since I had yours, and that worries me a bit.” She put an arm around his shoulders and whispered in his ear, “My friend, I think you are the Anti-Vampire.”

Chapter 15 - Lazarus

    Archie dressed in the brown suit he did not want to be buried in, rooted around the funeral home until he found the keys for the hearse, then drove home. When he arrived, the lights were out, the door was locked, and he had no key. He could break into his own home or seek out Augusta. He assumed she still carried a key to the house, and that she would want to return with him. Hopefully she hadn’t begun her career as a vampire gold digger and flown off to Miami or Rio or some such place in search of a wealthy old man with one foot in the grave and one foot on a banana peel. If she was in town, though, he was going to find her.

     Stepping off the front porch, he took a deep breath. No hint of Augusta wafting on the breeze, nor any clue at all as to where she might be. Archie got back in the hearse. Driving along the streets of Arbor Woods, he would occasionally roll down the window, stick his head out and sniff the night air like a cocker spaniel on a joy ride. Sooner or later he would pick up Augusta’s scent. When he did track her down, he planned to berate her for almost letting him spend his eternal rest in a brown suit. Then he would sweep her into his arms and whisk her home.

    The aroma of grilled steak and mushrooms grew stronger as Archie drove through town, drawing him like a bee to clover toward the west side of town and Le Steer Steakhouse and Cocktail Lounge. Augusta loved a grilled steak dinner. When he was close to the restaurant he poked his head out the window one last time and caught a whiff of sandalwood. Archie didn’t really know what the hell sandalwood was or what it smelled like, he just knew Augusta smelled like this; he called it sandalwood because it sounded elegant and feminine to him.

    Feeling sure she was at Le Steer, Archie came to a halt in front of the restuarant. A valet eyed both driver and car with suspicion. “One of the diners bit the dust,” Archie told him as stepped out of the hearse. “Must have got a bum steer.” The valet simply stared at him. “Get it? Bum steer? ‘Cause the name of the restaurant is...oh, never mind. Just don’t go too far with my ride. I won’t be long.”

    Feeling invigorated by the fresh blood he had consumed earlier, Archie bounded up the short stairway and through Le Steer’s front door. Just inside a hostess stood behind a podium, her dark brown eyes and bright white smile radiating warmth. Archie would have liked her instantly had he not been so distracted with his search for Augusta. He stood at the dining room entrance and peered in.

    In a friendly tone, the hostess asked, “Can I help you, sir? Do you have a reservation?”

    Archie looked over his shoulder. “Oh, hi there. Didn’t see you when I walked in.” He continued to look over the dining room.

    “Are you with a party, sir?”

    “No, and please stop calling me ‘sir.’ My name’s Archie and I’m looking for a woman. Her name is Augusta and she smells of sandalwood. At least, I think she does.”

    Continuing to smile warmly, the hostess said, “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”

    “I’m sure she’s here somewhere. I can smell her. My oIfactory sense is very keen  and it never lies.” Tired of just looking, he passed quickly into the dining area.

    “Sir!” the hostess called out to him. “Archie! Come back here please!”

    He was too far gone to pay any attention to the hostess now. Constantly sniffing at the air as he dodged wait staff scurrying about with trays full of food and drink, Archie finally spotted Augusta in a secluded booth at the rear of the dining room.

    Running up to the table, a wide smile on his face, he nearly shouted, “Augusta! I found you! I knew you were here. I could smell you.” His smile faded as he began to sound accusatory. “The brown suit? Really? You were going to make me spend eternity in brown? Whatever. I forgive you. It’s all forgotten. I’m back now, I don’t have the keys to the house, I hope you do, so let’s go, I’ve got a ride out front.”

    He paused to gaze at her. “You look ravishing.” And she did. Her dark blue sleeveless dress was low cut but tastefully so, her hair was perfect and her eyes sparkled at the sight of Archie, or so he thought. She looked more elegant than he had ever seen her. “Listen, I’m a new man. I want to live now. I want to see the world and take you along. I want to go places I’ve never been, like Pismo Beach.”

    A deep voice said, “Pismo Beach? You know it’s not 1950 anymore, right Arch?” It came from a large, broad shouldered man. He seemed to be bursting out of his pinstripe suit. His massive head was topped with wavy salt and pepper hair. Possessed by the sight of Augusta, Archie hadn’t noticed the behemoth sitting next to her. He turned to look at the source of the voice   

    “Well, if isn’t Lazarus Gorey. Why in heaven’s name are you still alive?”

    “Nice to see you too, Arch.”

    Augusta finally spoke. “My god, Archie, I thought you were dead.”

    “Yeah, well I was, sort of, for a while. It was more a case of being really, really tired.”

    “Your heart wasn’t beating.”

    “True, but I feel much better now. Beating heart, breathing in and out, that sort of thing. But I’ll tell you something, being so close to death made me rethink things. I was tired of living, I just wasn’t seeing the beauty of life anymore. My eyes have been opened though.”

    “Well, good for you,” Gorey said.

    “Pipe down, fat man,” Archie told him as he slid into the booth next to Augusta. As he did, a tall man with a dark helmet of hair walked briskly up to the table. He said, “I apologize for the interruption, Mr. Gorey.” Then, to Archie, “Sir, I’m afraid that without a reservation you will have to leave. Please come with me.”

    Archie looked him up and down admiringly. “Now that’s a suit. Dark blue suit with a crisp white shirt. I love dark blue suits.” He spoke to Augusta. “Why couldn’t you bury me in something like that? A dark suit with a light blue tie and matching pocket square.” He looked back at the man in the suit. “And cufflinks! He’s got cufflinks! Now that’s class.”

    The classy dark blue suit man spoke in a firm tone, “Sir, I’m asking you very politely to leave.”

    “You’re well dressed and polite. That’s wonderful. Listen, I won’t be a bother, I’ll only be a minute, then I’ll go.”

    Suit man leaned in close to Archie’s face, and in a raspy whisper began to say, “Sir...”

    Before he could utter another word Archie swiftly grabbed his throat with one hand, pressing on the Adam’s apple with his thumb. “I said, I will only be a minute.”   

    Lazarus chuckled. “Take it easy, Archie. No need to get your adult diapers all twisted up in a knot.” To suit man he said, “It’s okay, Tony, he’s not bothering us. He will indeed be leaving very shortly.”

    Archie released Tony’s throat. They glared at each other for a moment before Tony said, “Very well, Mr. Gorey.” He straightened his tie, threw down another dirty look at Archie, then turned and walked away.

    “I see you still know how to make friends and influence people, Arch,” Gorey said.

    “You know what they say in our world: bite me where the sun don’t shine.”

    Augusta was mystified. “Archie, what’s gotten into you? You were so weak you were dead. Now...now...”

    “I’m full of piss and vinegar.”

    “Well, yes, that’s one way of putting it. You weren’t quite dead, were you?”

    “Nope. Close, but no cigar. Like I said, I was just really, really tired. Now I feel like I’ve got the strength of ten men. I feel like I could live another five hundred years. But what would be the point if I didn’t have someone special to share it with. Now that you’re one of us, we could live together through time. I was wrong to tell you to be a vampire gold digger. That was some bad advice.”

    “Well, actually, I don’t think it was. Not that I’ve become a gold digger, mind you, but a girl does have to look out for herself.”

    He jerked a thumb in Gorey’s direction. “Okay. So what are you doing with this guy?”

    “Augusta and I are soul mates,” Gorey said.

    “Don’t you need a soul to be a soul mate? Augusta, how on earth did you two meet so quickly? I’ve only been gone for two days!”

    “Well, I went to the beach the day after you died.”

    “Oh, nice. I bite the dust and the first thing you can think about is working on your tan.”

    Ignoring his rant, she continued. “I needed to relax. You’re death, or whatever it was, was stressful. Anyway, Lazarus saw me sunbathing and nearly crashed his yacht into a breakwater. He jumped off the boat and swam to shore to meet me.”

    Archie rolled his eyes. “Oh, brother.” He turned his attention to Gorey. “How is it you have enough money for a yacht? Of course, you were always good at separating people from their money. Never honestly though.”

    “I have always been financially sucessful, that is true, but always in a lawful manner. I’m sorry things haven’t always gone as well for you, Arch.”

    “I’ve done just fine, thank you very much. I’ve been a doctor for centuries now, which I think is better than being an arms manufacturer for the Nazis.” Archie turned to Augusta. “You know this guy is a vampire right? Wasn’t the whole idea to find some old dude who would keel over quickly so you could inherit his fortune?”

    “We know all about each other, Archie. Neither of us is naive. Laz and I are very similar people in a lot of ways. He’s got plans for the future and I’m going to be right by his side, a partner in every aspect of the word.”

    “Uh-huh. What plans are these? What kind of racket are you in now, Lazarus?” Archie asked. “What is it this time? Swindling old people out of their homes? Selling poisoned baby formula to Third World countries?”

    “Oh, come on now Archie, no reason to be bitter. Just because I’ve been an incredibly successful businessman over the centuries, while you...well, you’ve done the best you could, I guess.”

    “I was a surgeon,” replied Archie. “You know, someone who actually helps people rather than swindling them, or deceiving them, or whatever else you’ve done over the years.”

    “True, you did become a surgeon,” Gorey responded. “You even served your country. You know, Augusta, he was a sawbones with the Union Army. You know why they called doctors ‘sawbones’ back then? Because surgeons, such as they were, had to hack through bone to amputate limbs. More than a few amputations during the war. Seemed like every soldier that was injured got an arm or a leg or both cut off.” Lazarus turned toward Archie. “Tell me, Arch, how upset was that Hoosier boy from the 13th Regiment when he woke up and found out you cut off the wrong leg?”

    “Mistakes happen in the fog of war. And you know what? Right leg, left leg, legs all look alike.”

    “He pulled a pistol and took a few shots at you, didn’t he? Can’t say as I blame him. Amputate the wrong leg, then you have to amputate the correct one too, don’t you? I wake up missing two legs when I’m only supposed to be missing one, well, I would have taken a shot at you myself. You ran all the way from City Point back to the Soldier’s Home in Washington. At least that’s what I heard.”

    “You heard wrong, dumbass. How would a kid being operated on have access to a pistol? Like I said, it was a mistake. Let me ask you, Mister Big Shot, was it a mistake when you sold the Union Army boots with cardboard soles? Fell apart the first time it rained. Of course, you made who knows how much money, then disappeared when the authorities came looking for you. You were nothing but a war profiteer of the worst sort.”

    Archie turned to Augusta. “Why don’t you come back to the house with me? I don’t need to be taken care of anymore, I have a new attitude towards life. Being dead-ish for a while caused me to see things in a different light. No more endless nights of Matlock reruns on TV. We’ll go out and enjoy life.”

    “Yes, of course” Gorey said, “why wouldn’t she want to be with you. You’re a multi-millionaire with a yacht and a mansion and...oh, wait, that’s me. Go home Archie, take up gardening or something equally exciting, catch some field mice for their blood, and ride out your lousy eternity in your rocking chair.”

    “I don’t have a rocking chair, asshole.”

    “It’s in the sunroom,” Augusta said.

    “What? I have a sunroom?” Archie replied.

    Augusta rolled her eyes. “Sweetheart, this is for the best. I’m going to get the most out of my endless life. Go home, Archie, and take care of yourself. I left the house keys under the fake rock in the back yard.”

    Archie gave her a blank stare.

    “It’s the big rock hidden among the rose bushes.”

    He looked befuddled. “I have rose bushes? I really need to get out of the house more. Damn that Matlock! He was so addictive.” Archie’s shoulders sunk a little, as he appeared resigned to his fate. “Well, Augusta, if this is what you want, I’ll go. You know where to find me if you need me.” Not one for long goodbyes or any kind of sentiment really, he got up and started to leave.

    Gorey spoke. “Arch, I wish you all the best.”

    Archie turned to look at him, trying to think of an eloquent remark to make an exit to, or at least something polite to say. “Oh, kiss my wrinkled old ass, you conniving son of a bitch.” So much for eloquence. He turned and walked away, never once looking back.

    When he was gone, Augusta said, “He was a good guy. Smart, funny, just a little handsy sometimes, if you know what I mean. And he could be a little confused at times, but still, who isn’t a little confused once in a while?”

    Lazarus took a sip from his wine glass. “Yes, I had nothing against him, we just didn’t always see eye to eye about how to live our lives. But that happens.” He looked at Augusta, smiled, said, “Enough about him. Let’s talk about us.”

    “Okay. You know, you never really filled me in on these plans of yours. I’d like to hear more about them.”

    “Of course. As you know, I run Arbor Pharmaceutical. We have a worldwide organization.The company does well, and I do quite well personally. The key to success though isn’t resting on one’s laurels, it’s thinking ahead. What is the way to be successful in the future, and to maintain a high level of success?”

    Lazarus took another sip of wine. “You and I, my dear, we are the same. We are vampires. We know who and what we are, and we accept it. Some of us have even sought out the life of the undead. Let me ask you: Do you think the average person wants to be a vampire?”

    “Most people don’t even think about being a vampire,” she replied. “They don’t believe we exist.”

    He was quietly excited now, and looked at her with a slight grin on his face. “What do you think would happen if people found out there really were vampires amongst them?”

    Augusta thought for a moment. “There would be a general panic. Quite frankly, people would freak out.”

    Lazarus let out a hearty laugh. “Damn right they would. The public would be terribly frightened, worried about being attacked while they slept and transformed into blood sucking fiends. They would demand something be done. A worried public would want the vampires hunted down and killed.” Augusta grew suddenly pale at the thought she would be executed for being what she was. Lazarus smiled soothingly at her. “Don’t worry, my love, there will always be people who preach peace, and before anybody could get up in arms, we at Arbor Pharmaceutical would offer our solution to the vampire epidemic.”

    “I’m not sure I understand.”

    He sat back and spoke calmly. “I have small groups of vampires stationed throughout the world ready to strike en masse at a moments notice. These ‘troopers’ if you will, would fan out through an area, turning as many people as possible into vampires. When the public and the governments and the religions all clamor for help, we step in with an antidote to vampirism, as well as a vaccine to prevent those who have not been bitten from ever becoming a vampire.”

    Augusta sat still with a stunned look on her face. Then she cracked a smile. “My God, Laz, that’s genius. Evil genius, but genius nonetheless. How did you ever come up with such an idea?”

    “What can I tell you? I’m brillliant.”

    “Yes, yes you are.”

    “There’s only one problem though. There is no vaccine or antidote yet. I’ve got hundreds of scientists working in labs throughout the country who have gotten close, but nothing seems totally effective. All we need is one breakthrough, and then we can take over the whole damn world. The money that would come in if this plan works would be unbelievable. Money is power. I think the presidency would not be out of the question. With the military under my control, I most certainly could take over the whole damn world, and you’d be right there with me. All we need is that one breakthrough. I can feel it in my bones, Augusta, I know we’re near the beginning of something amazing. The breakthrough is close at hand.”

Chapter 14 - Heart

    It wasn’t a case so much of being on the wrong side of the tracks as it was of being right next to the tracks. Located on the deserted western edge of town, from a distance the Old Tannery Building looked abandoned. Up close though, one could see life, or at least lights, on the top floor.

    A passing freight train, long and loud, allowed Bulldog Armstrong to enter the Tannery and ascend a wide metal staircase unnoticed. This led to a loft that took up the whole of the buildings top floor. The loft contrasted sharply with the drab grey exterior. Inside, lights hung from the ceiling to illuminate exposed brick walls and polished hardwood flooring. Along the walls rested painting of different sizes in various states of completion. They were done in the manner of Picasso and Van Gogh, Matisse and Monet, Hopper and Kandinsky. Well, not so much in the manner of, but more like duplicates. Forgeries to be exact. Scattered throughout the loft were easels as well as more conventional furnishings, such as sofas and coffee tables. In the middle of it all, a vampire stood strangling a young woman.

    Rolf, tall and lean, held his victim, Molly Kwiat, off the ground with one hand around her throat. He was in the midst of indecision, unsure of whether to snap her neck and feed her body to the pack of rabid Dobermans he kept in a kennel behind the building, or to simply drain Molly of her blood and then feed her to the dogs. Decisions, decisions. It wasn’t always easy being a vampire. He wasn’t particularly hungry, but a point did have to be made to this fragile little normal who had tried to kill him. Stangulation or dinner, either way she was going to die.

    “Good golly, Miss Molly!” Armstrong proclaimed as he stood at the top of the stairway. “You sure do seem to be in a world of trouble.”

    Molly and Rolf both turned their heads in the direction of the federal agent so quickly they risked whiplash.

    “What are you doing here?” Rolf snarled. He was angry, not just at this feeble thing who pulled a knife on him, but now at this G-man who was interrupting him. Lowering his head with the intent of looking more menacing, Rolf exposed his fangs slightly, and his eyes burned red.

    “First of all, Rolfie boy, you need to put that young lady down and let her catch her breath. She’s beginning to turn blue.”

    Rolf didn’t move, other than to say, “This is none of your concern. I’m acting in self defense. She pulled out a knife and tried to kill me. Now I need to teach her a lesson.”

    A slight grin appeared as Armstrong looked at Molly. “Found yourself another blade, did you, Miss Molly?”
    “You know her?” Rolf asked. He shook his head as if to remove cobwebs. “Doesn’t matter. You have no beef with me, so just go away.” His grip on Molly loosened, then he lowered her, allowing her feet to touch the floor while still keeping his hand around her neck.

    “No beef? The federal government has a big beef with art forgers. You know very well they frown upon that sort of activitiy. We’ve talked about this before. You promised you weren’t going to do that anymore, and now here you are playing with paints again.”

    “Doesn’t mean you can just waltz in here anytime you like. Vampires have rights too you know.”

    “True, I guess, although I don’t remember vampires being mentioned in the Constitution.” This drew a derisive snort from Rolf. Armstrong continued, “Whatever. I felt compelled to enter the premises. There was person here in danger.”

    Rolf dropped his hand from Molly’s neck and faced the agent squarely. “I really think you should leave, Bulldog.” He paused, shook his head again. “What a silly name for a human. You don’t look at all like a bulldog. You’re nowhere near as handsome.”

    “Bite me.”

    Rolf snorted, rolled his eyes. “Oh yeah, that’s original. Got any other brilliant bon mots?”

    With no warning, not a twitch of the eye or a change of expression, the vampire  lunged at Armstrong. Before his feet were even an inch off the ground, Bulldog fired one shot from the weapon he had been holding in his right hand. The vampire’s heart exploded through his back and flew through the air. With a loud smack it hit a reproduction of Picasso’s The Old Guitarist that was resting against the wall. Leaving a bloody trail on the canvas in it’s wake, the heart slithered to the floor. Rolf fell in a lifeless heap.

    “Wowie zowie!” Molly shouted, wide eyed, smiling, seemingly recovered from her near death experience. “I need me one of them.”

    Armstrong gave her a look of sympathy mixed with confusion. “Young miss, you need no such thing. You should be back home with your parents, whoopin’ it up on Saturday  nights at the local honky tonk and asking the Lord’s forgiveness on Sunday mornings. You don’t belong out here, chasing blood sucking vermin and thinking you’re going to win a fight with them. Where would you be now if I hadn’t arrived when I did?”

    “I would have thought of something.”

    “Yeah, well, you were running out of time to do any thinking at all. Hard to think straight when your airway is cut off, isn’t it? That’s the arrogance of youth, you think you can get out of any jam.” He holstered his gun.

    “Is that a Glock?” Molly asked. “Looks kind of like a Glock, but different.”

    Armstrong nudged the vampires head with the tip of his shoe. “Definitely dead,” he said, then he looked up at Molly again. “The gun is a special design. Normal size, but extra strength. Meant to blow the heart clean out of a vampires body. Only way to kill them, remove the heart. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” He had a mischievous look on his face. “The name Patrick Alpin mean anything to you?”

    “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Molly put on her best innocent expression, making her blue eyes round and puppy-like. “And how do you know my name? I don’t believe we’ve met before.”

    He laughed. “My jaw still hurts from our last meeting. Quite a punch you landed. I think you may have loosened up some teeth. Good thing we still have a dental plan.”

    “Just who are you anyway? Are you with the FBI?”

    “FBI? Hardly. Vampire Investigation Unit. We keep tabs on the bloodsuckers, make sure they don’t get out of line and hurt the general public.”

    Molly got the impression Armstrong liked to talk about what he did, at least to her.  She decided to quiz him. “So, how do you find out my name?”

    “You did leave a murder weapon behind at the scene of the crime. Remember that Apeninne fellow? The one you stuck a knife into? That was good work. We in the Unit don’t really mind seeing a vampire get whacked, but we also are a little leary of vigilantes. They tend to get sloppy and end up dead. So we discourage it. Sometimes we arrest people like you and put them on trial. Secretly, of course. The general populace is not ready to deal with the existence of vampires. Hell, half the nation peed it’s pants when a black guy got elected president. How do you think they’d react knowing there were human beings out there who drank blood to survive? Things would not go well.”

    A look of concern crossed Molly’s face. “Did you talk to my parents?”

    “Nope. I was able to trace you without bothering them. I have to ask though, don’t you think they worry about you?”

    
 “I call them every day.”
   
    “And how do those conversation go? ‘Hi, Mom and Dad, shot another vampire today. Love ya!’” He paused momentarily to chuckle at his little bit of sarcasm. “So what did you do with Patrick’s body, Molly? We keep tabs on creeps like him, and he was a creep, but he is totally off our radar now. You did a good job getting rid of him, because he is gone, gone, gone.”

    The thought of Patrick Alpin being eaten by the hogs on her farm brought a smile to her face. Her thoughts were of bloody revenge, but her smile was sweetness and sunlight. “I still have no idea what you’re talking about, Agent...Armstrong, is it?”

    “Yes,” he said softly, “but you can call me Bulldog.”

    She thought that was a silly nickname for an adult. “How about we just stick with Agent Armstrong. I was taught to respect my elders that way.”

    “Elders?” The reality of his age hit him, slapping him back down to earth. “I guess I am a bit older than you.”

    “So now what, Agent Armstrong?”

    His tone became more business, less personal. “Well, we have a safe house in the next county. I’m going to take you there for questioning and if I deem you’re not a threat to society, I’ll release you, by which I mean I will personally escort you back home to Pine Springs and insist that you not chase vampires anymore unless you want to wind up in solitary confinement in an undisclosed location.”

    “I see. Do I have any choice in the matter?”

    His tone was soft again. “No, Miss Molly, I’m afraid not.” He stood close to her. “You really are an impressive person. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to handcuff you. I play by the rules. It’s best that way.” He gently turned her around, then guided her hands behind her back, and placed the manacles around her wrists.

    She turned to face him. “It’s okay. I understand. Rules are rules.”

    “I’m glad you feel that way, Miss Molly.”

    Armstrong stood close to her, closer than any agent would normally stand to a suspect in custody. Playing by the rules was temporarily forgotten. He was enraptured by her, lost in the placid lake blue of eyes and the wildflower scent of her perfume. The nearness of Molly was a great distraction, so Armstrong was caught quite unaware when she kneed him in his groin, swift and hard.

    The lovestruck agent grunted. At the instant he began to double over in pain, Molly gave him a head butt that sent him reeling, dazed. Relying on her mixed martial arts training (Daddy insisted on this as he wanted his little girl to defend herself against unwanted advances), Molly sprang at Bulldog, landing a foot squarely on his chest. He stumbled backwards, tripping over a box of oil paints. His head made a sickening thud as it hit the floor. Bulldog Armstrong was once again made unconscious by Molly Kwiat.

    She knelt by his side. Awkwardly, and with great effort, as her hands were restrained behind her back, she searched his suit coat for keys to the handcuffs. Coming up empty she moved to his pants pockets. Accidentally she brushed up against the little Bulldog. Glancing at him, she said, “Impressive, but not what I’m looking for right now.” She found the keys, withdrew them and managed to free her hands.

    Molly looked around the loft. She wanted to delay Armstrong’s leaving for as long as she could. She dragged his body so that it lay next to Rolf’s, then handcuffed them together. He wasn’t going to like that when he came to, but she hoped he would forgive her eventually. He seems like such a nice old man, she thought, I don’t want to upset him too much.
   
    Having fetched her purse, she relieved the agent of his weapon. “Sorry,” she said to the sleeping Bulldog, “I know it’s not right to steal, so let’s just say I’m borrowing it. Besides, I need this more than you do, and I figure you can always get another one. It’s not like I can go to the sporting goods store and ask for one of those guns that blows the heart out of a vampire.” She looked at the dead blood suckers heart that still lay on the floor by the fake Picasso. “That was so cool.”

    Downstairs, on the way to her car, Molly used her trusty Bowie knife to slash the tires on Agent Armstong’s car. Upstairs, Bulldog began to snore.