wind like a banner and often flew up into her face.
As she approached the door, a patch of darkness detached from one of the many shadows surrounding the building and coalesced into her Vampire servant. She figured she should have expected it. Though her decision to become a temporary renegade biker had been no secret, she had wanted to slip away quietly, with no muss or fuss, but her senior staff had had other ideas. They ambushed her in the garage with parting gifts, and as much as she wanted to tell them to bugger off, she accepted them with good grace.
Though she had cash, and planned to acquire more as needed by hustling pool, Aelfraed presented her with credit and identification cards using her Isolde Churchill alias for emergency purposes. Though she had a Sykes-Fairbairn fighting dagger and could summon Caliburn at will, Holt gave her a Beretta 93R machine pistol and six 30-round clips. Mrs. Widget gave her a neck-wrap for chilly evenings, while Maggie King, who under the codename of Miss Primary served as her best double, gave her a cell phone with several preprogrammed numbers, including her own, just in case. Sharona Turing gave her an electronic roadmap that could pick up the tracking device in the bike and display her exact position to within a hundred feet. Dr. Carmichael gave her the names of friends from medical school who would be willing to give her medical treatment on the sly if she needed it. And Madam Trumbo gave her four meat pasties to snack on while on the road.
She had thanked them for their gifts, and she still had them, though most were buried at the bottom of her bike bags, out of sight of curious eyes. Vlad had not been with them, but she figured he would show up some time before midnight.
"And pray tell, why are you here, Thrall?"
"It is a slow night in this green and pleasant land, so I thought I would check up on you. Your staff is concerned as well."
She took a moment to light a cigarillo. "Hmph. One would think I was a child being allowed to cross the street unescorted for the first time."
"We are all naturally concerned for you." But he grinned at her in an insolent manner.
"Shut it, you bloodsucking wanker." Then she sighed. "Oh, very well, you can hang around, but only as long as you stay out of sight. Understand?"
"Yes, My Master. I shall be as discreet as death." He turned to darkness and merged with her own shadow.
She went inside, and looked around. It resembled a typical pub, with a bar along one side that gave access to the back kitchen and storerooms, a collection of tables and a few booths, and a set of stairs leading up to the next story. A dart board and a few other pub games lay scattered about, including bar pool. A baker's dozen of people sat at the tables, all locals by the look of them.
She walked up to the bar, feeling all eyes on her. The landlord favored her with a menacing stare, but she hoped it was only because she was a stranger.
"My apologies for the lateness of the hour, but I am looking for a room. Would you have one available?"
He looked her up and down, and she couldn't blame his reluctance. To better blend in as a biker, assuming she found any, she wore a vest-style T-shirt and jeans, with a leather jacket and gloves. The only thing that wouldn't have quite fitted in, besides her large, round glasses, were the combat boots under her pants.
After a few moments, however, he said, "No, I have nothing available."
That took her aback, though she didn't show it. Just about every pub she had ever visiting had rooms on the upper floors, and she doubted traffic on that lane was heavy enough for them to be full up, but she decided not to argue the point.
"Then is there anyone in the village who could rent me a room for the night?"
"No." He didn't even think about it.
She smirked. She was pretty sure he was lying, but there was nothing she could do about it.
{I could frighten him into cooperating, My Master.}
No! They have the right to decide who they let stay, she thought.
{As you wish, Sir Differel.}
"Very well, Landlord, I'll move on, but I am rather hungry. I would like something to eat before I go."
"Don't you get it?"
She directed her attention to the patrons, and saw one stand up.
"We don't want your kind here. Get out, now, before we throw you out."
Her irritation flared. "I was speaking to the landlord, sir."
"He's right," that worthy said. "You're not welcome, so you might as well take off now."
That was the last straw, and she felt her gorge rise. "On the contrary, gentlemen, I am at least entitled to something to eat and drink, and I won't leave until I have been served."
"I'm not obligated to serve you," the landlord said, and a third of the patrons stood up. They headed for the bar, and she turned to face them.
Vlad detached himself from her shadow, flowed to a spot on the floor beside her, and expanded upward into a column that towered over her. He coalesced into his normal form and stepped out of the dark cloud, which flowed into his back.
"Who wishes to die first?" He displayed a wicked, grinning leer as his eyes glowed red.
The men approaching her stopped dead, then fled backwards, trying to put as much distance between the Vampire and themselves as they could, while more who sat close by jumped up and hurried away towards the walls, overturning chairs and spilling drinks and mugs of ale. Others remained at their seats, petrified. Everyone wore an expression of abject terror. Although she didn't want to frighten them to death, one small part of her gloated over their having the tables turned on them.
"Just a minute, please," the landlord said. "I don't want any trouble. If I give you a pie and a pint, will you and your...companion leave peaceably?"
She turned to look at him. "Yes, of course, I have no desire to create a disturbance."
He disappeared into the kitchen, but emerged a minute later with her pie. He drew a pint of brown ale and placed both on the counter. She picked them up and went to a corner booth. She slid in on one side while Vlad sat opposite her.
It turned out to be a steak and kidney pie, and it tasted quite good for local fare. As she ate, she kept an eye on the patrons. They had resumed their seats, but kept glancing at them in an apprehensive manner. She already knew they resented her presence, but it seemed different from open hostility. It felt more like anxiety, as if her intrusion disturbed them in some way, and only Vlad's presence prevented them from doing anything about it.
Speaking of which: "If that was discreet, I'll take up beekeeping in Sussex."
"I was discreet, until they threatened you."
"Hmph. It was hardly a threat."
"I disagree, but the point is moot. My duty is to protect you, and I will come if I believe you are in danger."
"Then let's get one thing straight. I can take care of myself, and from now on I order you to stay out of any altercations I find myself in unless I call for you. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, My Master."
"Very good. Meanwhile, what do make of this bunch?"
"How do you mean?"
"Everyone is so somber, I wonder if there's been a death recently."
"They are not mourning, but apprehensive."
That caught her by surprise. "Over what?"
He shrugged. "I cannot say, but the mood of most is so black, they question whether they will live out the night."
"Bloody hell. I wonder what the problem is."
"The only way to find out would be to ask, and I doubt they would be forthcoming."
"You're probably right."
They fell into silence after that. As she continued eating, she noticed the landlord come out from behind the bar and approach a table with three men. He didn't sit down, but spoke quietly with them for some minutes. When he returned to the bar two of them got up and left the pub. She wondered if they were planning some kind of mischief. She decided she had better be careful when she left.
She finished her meal shortly after that and paid the landlord. Vlad followed her past the tables to make sure no one tried anything, and accomp
anied her outside.
Her bike was gone.
For a moment she stood, stunned, as she searched for it, but then she realized what must have happened. "Apparently, these people like to play bloody games."
"Obviously, Master."
"Well, we'll just see about that."
She stormed back inside, ignoring the patrons, and confronted the landlord, while Vlad trailed behind her.
"Where the hell is my bike?"
He looked uncomfortable; not apologetic, more like nervous, as if he couldn't be certain she wouldn't order the Vampire to attack him. "My neighbors have hidden it."
"Whatever for?"
"When the Vampire appeared, we recognized you as Sir Differel Van Helsing, leader of the Caerleon Order. We need your help, but after the way we first treated you, we didn't think you'd agree. So we took your bike to force you to listen. We'll return it if you do, even if you decide to leave us to our fate, but we just want you to hear us out."
Vlad stepped up beside her, though he stared behind her at the patrons. "Do not trust him, Master. I can force them to give back your motorcycle, you need agree to nothing."
She glanced at him. "True, but if they're that desperate, I see no reason not to hear what they have to say. Very well, Landlord, tell me your tale."
First he drew two more brown ales, and then took her to a booth. Vlad stood in front of it, keeping an eye on the rest of the patrons.
"Forty years ago, members of a biker gang calling themselves the White Dragons came into our village and started causing trouble."
She recognized the name. As part of her research before her departure she read up on outlaw
The Adventure of the Golden Mushroom Page 7