Stake

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Simon Helsing, though, battled the real threat and destroyed true evil. He didn’t have to be dashing, merely effective – as he had already proven to be. If Alexis Tarada agreed to be an ally, together they could be twice as effective. Once she reviewed his dossier, she would understand the scope of the threat, he hoped.

  While the movie’s screeching soundtrack built to a crescendo, he sat calmly at the table making preparations to destroy the king vampire, the most powerful monster in the city.

  On the bedspread, which bore stains that Helsing didn’t want to contemplate, lay the used camera he’d found in a thrift store, a large Canon 1D X. He had bought it dirt cheap, and when the clerk warned him that the camera no longer worked, Helsing said he just needed it as part of a costume. The long lens had cost much more, but all he cared about was the casing. When screwed on to the front of the camera, the lens looked like a grenade launcher.

  With the drapes drawn against the afternoon sunlight, Helsing sat at the desk and looked at the glass jar that held chopped-up bits of silver that reminded him of dental fillings. He had haunted pawn shops, buying up old silver rings, silver coins, silver chain, silver flatware, silver earrings. It didn’t matter, so long as it was silver. Helsing had spent several hundred dollars of the Bastion’s money intended for emergencies, and Helsing considered this an emergency.

  It had been a tedious process to hammer the earrings and silver wire into jagged lumps. With a fine jewelry saw and a clamp, he had cut up the rings and flatware one fragment at a time. He sawed the coins in half, then quarters, eighths, and even smaller, sharp-edged bits. It was an uneven assortment of shrapnel, but he had enough.

  On the tabletop, he had mounted a five-stage reloading press for .410 gauge shotgun shells. He had to create his own ammunition. Although it would be intensely satisfying to stand over the king vampire and hammer a stake through his chest, Hugo Zelm would never give him that chance. Helsing’s only chance might be to kill him from a distance.

  With the Taurus Judge revolver he had also purchased, he would have five shots. The Judge could fire .410 caliber shotgun shells as well as .45 bullets. He would pack the shells himself, make them deadly to vampires.

  Helsing had read plenty of lore about making silver bullets. There was quite a debate, including one that went on for weeks on HideTruth, whether silver bullets were even possible or ballistically advisable. Helsing would have preferred to load the revolver with solid silver bullets for greater range, accuracy, and penetration, but silver melted at 1,800°F. Melting down all this scrap silver, casting it in a mold, and machining each bullet with enough precision to prevent a jam that would cause the gun to explode … that was simply beyond Helsing’s capabilities in his motel room.

  His best option was to load the small shotgun shells with silver fragments like birdshot, but far more deadly to vampires. The .410 shells wouldn’t be terribly accurate and the pellets would rapidly lose their effectiveness with increasing range, but silver itself was the deadly ingredient. Helsing hoped he could get close enough to the king vampire.

  Helsing lined up the first empty casing on the initial stage of the press, and divided his cut-up silver shrapnel into five equal parts. He would have five shots. If he got close enough, the first one would do the job. Even if the shells did not blow a hole through the king vampire’s chest, the silver should still prove fatal.

  The orthodox priest in Bosnia had taught him that silver was deadly to the lampir. In common legends, silver was primarily effective against werewolves, but the pure metal worked just as well on vampires. The werewolf story was misinformation, more of the web of lies spread by vampires over the years. Werewolves did not exist.

  He methodically worked through the process of filling the small shells with silver fragments, step by step, one at a time. He crimped the last of his shells, then placed the big revolver on the desk. Feeling a great sense of anticipation, he inserted the five shells into the Judge.

  Now he had a weapon that was deadly to vampires – not as personal as a stake through the heart or a decapitation, but it would do the job.

  Helsing imagined how much the situation would change once he killed the king vampire. And he would have his chance soon. Normally, Zelm hid behind fortress walls while he worked his nefarious influence among the upper crust of society. Helsing would be prepared when Zelm let down his guard, just a crack.

  But not soon enough.

  Helsing’s previous three targets had been so satisfying that he wanted to keep in practice. There was more than enough time to kill one more and keep the city safe. He began to choose the next target.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Murder victims generated a lot of paperwork. Detective Carrow sat at his desk in the downtown CSPD station, hiding behind the flimsy cubicle walls that did not keep out the sounds of conversations, ringing phones, whirring printers, and general background chatter.

  Pinned to the cubicle wall was a photo of his two daughters smiling and posing with their new puppy. Another photo showed them at their dance lessons. He made a note to himself that he would see them soon, call them sooner. Maybe the Green Chiles and Frijoles Festival wasn’t such an awful idea after all. He’d even kept a picture of LeAnn for a while, before he realized that it was just too depressing. The rest of his office décor consisted of sticky notes, a dry-erase board, a computer, a file cabinet, two chains of paperclips linked together, printouts, calendar reminders, and a distressingly pink mug that showed kittens doing ballet with the caption ‘You’re Tutu Sweet’. The girls gave it to him last Christmas to remind him of them. When the handle broke after only a few weeks, he couldn’t bring himself to part with the mug, so it now served as a pencil holder on his desk.

  And paperwork.

  He looked back down at the case files. He still had to fill in a lot of details about the Douglas Eldridge murder, though the autopsy wouldn’t be complete for a while. He also had the files on Mark Stallings and Patric Ryan, which cried out for connecting tissue that would help him solve the case. Maybe some detail from the Eldridge crime scene would make the pieces fall into place.

  Maybe all three of them were really vampires. He snorted to himself.

  So far the salacious Eldridge details had not leaked, but he didn’t know how long the firefighters would remain quiet. Once the news broke about another stake victim, Public Affairs wouldn’t be able to deflect all the publicity. His days would become a circus. He almost looked forward to a good old jealous husband with a gun. At least those murders didn’t make his head spin.

  ‘Hey Detective, I’ve got a report for you.’

  He looked up to see a tall plainclothes officer standing behind the cubicle wall, tapping his fingers on the metal rim. Lieutenant Nathan Dodge was an older officer within a dart’s throw of retirement age. Dodge was soft-spoken, pleasant to everyone, and somehow had not become jaded even after decades of working as a cop.

  Carrow closed his half-finished report on Eldridge. ‘Sure, what is it, Nathan? Buy you a beer if you get me out of doing more paperwork.’

  Dodge smiled. ‘You asked us to keep an eye on that young woman, Alexis Tarada.’

  Carrow perked up. ‘Anything interesting? She scare a vampire out into the sunlight?’ When he saw the blank look on Dodge’s face, he waved his hand. ‘Never mind. What did you find?’

  ‘She did meet a man for coffee downtown earlier today. Furtive demeanor, bulky jacket and a baseball cap pulled low. He sat next to Tarada and they talked for a while. He gave her a folder, grabbed her arm, then bolted.’

  ‘You mean, he ran away?’

  ‘He tried to be discreet about it, but it was clear he wanted to get out of there, and in a hurry. He had done what he needed to do.’

  Carrow tapped his desk. ‘So she met someone for coffee and he gave her a folder …’

  Nothing illegal about that. Tarada ran her oddball website and also had an active freelance career working online. She could have been meeting a client. Thanks to her co
nspiracy website, many of her clients might be nuts to start with.

  ‘Anything else?’

  ‘She talked to a panhandler, then just drove home.’ Dodge tapped the metal cap of the cubicle wall again. ‘Seems to have a pretty dull life. Was that what you’re looking for?’

  ‘Not sure what I’m looking for, but it’s better than searching for wooden stakes in a lumberyard.’ Again, Dodge’s expression went blank, waiting for the punchline. ‘Never mind. Thanks, Nathan. Owe you a beer, as promised.’

  Carrow liked the guy, considered maybe going out of his way to socialize more with his coworkers after a shift. The other choice was to go back to his bleak townhouse, which reminded him too much of the solitary murder victims.

  Carrow decided to go talk with Tarada again tomorrow, before the details of the Eldridge murder went public. Maybe she would slip up in conversation, reveal something that no simple website moderator should know.

  He could finish the paperwork later.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  After perusing the folder full of information that Simon Helsing had provided, Lexi wrote her energetic and – she hoped, compelling – essay, ‘Hiding in Plain Sight’. After posting it, she waited for the response from her followers, knowing they were already inclined to believe in the impossible.

  When she first started HideTruth, Lexi would have rolled her eyes at the suggestion of vampires living undetected in society, but Helsing made an unexpectedly strong case and raised many disturbing questions. Could any objective person deny the possibility that it might be true, that the answer was at least worth considering? What would her friend Teresa have said?

  Or was it just the equivalent of ghostly typing on a stuck keyboard?

  She answered the doorbell and was surprised to see Detective Carrow again.

  ‘Got a few more questions to ask you, Miss Tarada.’

  ‘Did you find any other connection between the victims? Evidence of vampires?’ She felt cocky. She had been having a silent inner debate with him since his last visit a few days ago. ‘I just posted something on my site that you may find interesting.’

  He scoffed, and she couldn’t tell whether or not he was joking. ‘What? The Loch Ness monster flying a UFO?’

  She sighed. ‘You aren’t very skilled in making people want to cooperate with you, Detective.’ She gestured him inside and led him to the kitchen table where she had been reading Helsing’s dossier and fact-checking online.

  He took a seat and got right down to business. ‘This is serious, Miss Tarada, and I want to ensure your cooperation. What else can you tell me about this supposed vampire killer? Has he contacted you in any way?’

  She closed her laptop, reluctant to tell him about her recent meeting with Helsing. ‘I have a lot of activity on my site, because I’m willing to consider things you won’t. To some of my followers, it’s obvious that the victims might be vampires.’

  ‘With Halloween coming up, it’s probably hysteria,’ Carrow said. ‘Feeding into the killer’s delusions.’

  She felt a sudden dread. ‘Has there been another stake murder?’

  He pointedly didn’t answer. ‘What can you do to help me find this serial killer? You sure you aren’t withholding information from me?’

  Something about Carrow made her feel defensive. ‘And are you sure you shouldn’t be worried about vampires instead? If they are secretly killing humans, then the hunter is saving people.’

  Apparently realizing she was serious, Carrow hardened his expression. ‘I have dead bodies, Miss Tarada, and the coroner assures me they are human. I have no evidence for vampires.’

  Lexi brushed the manila folder on the table in front of her. ‘But are you willing to look for evidence that doesn’t fit your preconceptions?’ Speaking from memory because she had just read the entire dossier and written her blog, she coolly laid out a pattern of behavior and suspicious activities. She listed what she knew about Mark Stallings and Patric Ryan, information she culled from public records and her own detailed searches. She said nothing about Simon Helsing.

  Carrow was surprised by her knowledge, but he remained skeptical, challenging her. ‘I find it difficult to believe that the victims were never once seen during the day. Loners, maybe, but otherwise normal, according to their neighbors.’

  Lexi appreciated healthy skepticism, but he didn’t seem to have his mind open at all. ‘According to legends, vampires can withstand brief exposure to sunlight. Maybe they ventured out on cloudy days, just often enough to allay suspicions.’

  ‘Convenient. So anyone could be a potential vampire, in your point of view.’

  ‘Not only my point of view.’

  Carrow seemed to know something she didn’t. ‘You’re working with other people, aren’t you? Has the killer made contact? I know you met somebody at a coffee shop yesterday. Who was he? What did you talk about?’ He looked down at the folder. ‘Is that what he gave you?’

  Lexi straightened, flushing. ‘You’re following me? On what grounds? Don’t you need a warrant for that?’

  ‘We don’t need a warrant to watch what’s happening in plain sight. The man you met seemed nervous, disguised. Was he another paranoid conspiracy nut?’

  Lexi realized it would be foolish to deny the meeting.

  ‘He was a vampire enthusiast, someone who wants to expose them, if they exist. He’s done a lot of research, and in my mind he’s pretty convincing.’ She rested her hand on the manila folder. ‘Have you actually looked for any other vampire victims? Bodies drained of blood and disposed of? Missing homeless people never reported, never investigated. If you find a pattern of victims, maybe you should think more about the vampires themselves instead of a vigilante vampire killer.’

  Her comment derailed him. ‘There are always missing people, nothing special about that. You see a bunch of speckled dots on a countertop and connect them into some secret grand pattern. But it’s really just a bunch of dots.’ He disoriented her by changing the subject. ‘What do you know about Douglas Eldridge? A night security guard who worked at a warehouse for Sarka Imports. Had a German Shepherd.’

  Lexi couldn’t conceal her surprise. She had just read the man’s complete file. ‘Eldridge? He’s someone that my … contact considers suspicious, a possible vampire. Someone worth looking into.’

  Carrow’s next words stunned her. ‘Douglas Eldridge was murdered, along with his dog. We have kept it quiet, entirely out of the news.’ His expression hardened. ‘But somehow your guy knew about it.’

  Lexi felt as if her bones had turned to water. ‘How? How was Eldridge murdered?’

  ‘A stake through the heart, then the body set on fire. He’d been stunned with a Taser first.’ Carrow leaned over the kitchen table, uncomfortably close to her. ‘The sick bastard bashed in the poor dog’s head with a mallet.’

  Lexi felt sickened. Helsing had been watching the man, gathering information. Had he actually killed him? ‘Douglas Eldridge might have been a hidden vampire. His behavior and history fit the profile, but it was just circumstantial evidence … I didn’t really believe he would …’ Stoker1897 had been intense, obsessed, convinced. Eldridge had been one of his primary suspects, but Lexi balked at the thought he would genuinely act on his suspicions, pound a wooden stake through someone’s heart. She flipped open the manila folder and pulled out the top sheet filled with Helsing’s notes and records on the night security guard. ‘He’s right here.’

  Without being asked, Carrow pulled the whole folder toward him. He flipped through the other records, his eyes widening. ‘So you knew that Eldridge was a potential murder victim? That he was in mortal danger from some nutcase who believed in vampires, and you did nothing?’

  ‘Nothing? What did you expect me to do? When I offered you information and suggested leads to track down, you ignored it and mocked me. I didn’t know anybody in the file might be killed. If I called to tell you that Eldridge might be a vampire, would you have rushed over to check it out?’

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p; Carrow continued to press. ‘Who is your contact? Who gave you this information?’ He held up the folder. ‘This man could be the killer, or at least allied with him. We have to find him.’

  ‘I … I don’t know. He posts on my website under the screen name Stoker1897. I was surprised to learn he’s local.’ Her thoughts spun. She remembered sitting across from Helsing, looking into his intense eyes. She had listened to his convictions, just like so many of her most intense followers, but she hadn’t really thought he was a crazed murderer.

  One of these days, I’m sure to be right.

  Now who was being stupid and gullible?

  ‘What’s his name? Not his screen name,’ Carrow asked. ‘How do I find him?’

  ‘I … I don’t know. He said his name was Simon Helsing, but that’s obviously fake.’

  The detective looked confused. ‘Why? What’s so special about that name?’

  ‘Helsing? Like Van Helsing?’ When his expression remained blank, Lexi groaned. ‘You really don’t know anything about vampires, do you, Detective? You need to read Dracula.’

  ‘How else have you been in contact with Helsing? He posts on your site? I can get a warrant for your computer and search through every one of your files. Did he give you a way to contact him?’

  Lexi felt a chill. ‘I’ve already tried to track him down, to do my own due diligence. Believe me, my resources are as good as yours.’ He obviously didn’t believe her. She knew that if she wanted to avoid being brought in for formal questioning, she would have to give him everything she had. ‘He only logs on at public terminals, uses different ISPs each time, nothing that can be traced. I only received one private message from him, and I’ll forward it to you. Everything else is public, right on HideTruth. You can read the forums yourself.’ But she knew he wouldn’t do that, so she offered, ‘I’ll compile them for you, send you everything that Stoker1897 has posted.’

  ‘That’s a good start.’ He turned the pages in the folder. ‘And these are all targets he’s identified? Potential victims?’