Stake

by Kevin J. Anderson

  Deeply troubled, Carrow shook his head. So the great vampire hunter was suggesting that one of the powerful bloodsuckers worked as a pizza delivery man?

  The very idea of obtaining records of all of Lugash’s deliveries and cross-matching them with every customer in hopes of linking them to strange deaths implied a level of imagination and obsession that Carrow didn’t want to consider.

  Simon Helsing, or whatever his real name was, was disturbingly convinced about vampires, enough that he was willing to kill anyone who fit his imaginary checklist.

  Carrow was sure that Alexis Tarada swallowed it all. Was everybody looking through crazy glasses?

  This folder – which the killer didn’t know the police possessed – was an excellent starting point. Beginning with Hugo Zelm, he would investigate these potential targets, tell them to keep their eyes open. No, Carrow corrected himself, not just investigate – he had to protect them.

  A vampire hunter was on the loose.

  THIRTY-ONE

  Though the bruises were still visible through the make-up around his eyes, Blair’s genuine smile warmed Lexi’s heart. He came home from Rags to Riches with enough exuberance to startle her.

  ‘Tah dah!’ From a bulky cloth bag, he pulled out a waterfall of white fabric embellished with lace, pearlescent buttons, and ribbons. ‘This dress is beautiful, and you’ll look like an angel in it.’ He shook out a creamy, elaborate Victorian gown and raised it up to shoulder level. ‘I checked the other dresses in your closet, so I know your size.’ He held it up, urging her to come closer.

  Lexi was intimidated. ‘I’ve never worn anything like that.’ The long gown was trimmed with ivory silk, and had a faux corset of floral-pattern damask around the waist.

  ‘There’s always a first time. You’ll look so spectacular that TMZ will wish they were there.’

  ‘How do you know they won’t be? Hugo Zelm wants plenty of media. But I do like to keep a low profile. I’m not comfortable about going to this gala in the first place. Could be vampires watching … or overboard fans.’

  ‘But you are going, and you’ll revel in the attention.’ He fluttered the dress like a matador waving a red cape. ‘Let me see this on you.’ He pressed it against her shoulders, looking her up and down. ‘It’ll emphasize your shape, but won’t show any cleavage. Much too prim for that. Very proper and virginal.’

  ‘Cleavage? I don’t have much, but the lace collar goes all the way up to the neck. Looks like a wedding gown.’

  Blair snorted. ‘Bride of the king vampire? You look classy and classic.’

  She held the dress against her, saw how the hem fell down around her ankles. ‘You better help me get dressed when it’s time. I feel like I’m going to prom.’ Lexi felt a sting in her heart. She had not gone to her own senior prom; the pain of Teresa’s death had been too heavy on her heart.

  ‘It’s better than prom, my dear. You’re an adult, and you’re going with me, which guarantees none of the drama of a real prom date.’

  She touched the gold chain of the necklace she always wore. ‘I’m not sure this is adequate.’

  ‘It’s not, but I have the perfect accessory.’ He reached into the bottom of the bag and pulled out a crimson velvet choker. Several rhinestones glittered like fallen stars on a field of blood. Blair could barely contain himself. ‘Oh, this will look beautiful.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t pay too much, because I’ll never wear the choker or the dress again. What do I owe you?’

  He made a dismissive gesture. ‘I told my boss you were taking it home to try it on … until after Saturday’s gala. I’m sure you’ll find some reason to return it.’

  She frowned. ‘I don’t want you to get in trouble.’

  He touched the bruises around his eyes. ‘I have my own ways of getting in trouble. Believe me, you don’t even make the list.’

  She was pleased to see his mood. This was the happiest he had been in days. The black eyes would heal, but Lexi knew that his heartache would linger much longer. Cesar had called and texted Blair, abjectly apologizing, making excuses. She could tell Blair was wavering, but every time he mentioned how much he missed Cesar, how good the good times had been in their brief relationship, Lexi made him take a hard look in the mirror. That quieted Blair, at least for a while.

  Having provided the dress for the gala, he loved the role of white knight, using his own special talents to help her. Now that she looked at the beautiful ribbons, the silk trimming, the damask patterns around the waist, she realized how woefully inadequate her old Iowa church dresses would have been. She promised to try it on later.

  Blair had a shift at the martini bar that night, but he would be home for a few hours. ‘What do you want for dinner? Hungry for anything in particular?’

  ‘Whatever you’d like to make. You never let me down.’

  ‘Right answer.’ He went into the kitchen.

  Lexi was still preoccupied with Detective Carrow’s news from the day before, the shocking stake murder of Douglas Eldridge. She kicked herself for not having made a copy of Helsing’s folder, so she only had her memory to go on. Once Carrow revealed that the murdered man was listed right there in the dossier, she couldn’t deny that Helsing was clearly connected with the killings. A homicide detective was allowed to seize crime evidence, wasn’t he? But what if that evidence also showed that the victims were themselves vampires? Would Carrow even give that a moment’s consideration?

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

  Two days had passed since she’d met Helsing at the coffee shop, and he had made no further contact. Stoker1897 had made no postings on her site, though her ‘Hiding in Plain Sight’ essay, based on his own speculations, had caused a general flurry.

  Still no news about the second stake victim in Colorado Springs, and she restrained from reporting the story herself. That would infuriate Detective Carrow, and it would reveal too much to Helsing, so she decided to hold off for now. Whether or not he posted or participated, she was sure Helsing kept an eye on her. Had he seen Detective Carrow come to her house? That would not be good. He would not have wanted her to share his secret research.

  Then the second question fell harder. Did Simon Helsing know where she lived? Lexi shuddered.

  She had sat right next to him while happy pedestrians walked by; he had grabbed her arm. The man was quite likely involved in the brutal killings, but his report had revealed so many dots in that random speckle pattern … dots that no one else had identified, or would identify. They made a damned compelling case.

  What if Simon Helsing was right?

  Even if there were real vampires, even if she came face to face with one herself, Lexi doubted she would have the nerve to place a sharpened wooden point against his chest – a human looking chest – and strike with a mallet. But Simon Helsing did.

  She tried to understand what type of person would be so methodical and ruthless as to track down those potential targets. What had convinced him so absolutely that vampires were real? Would she ever be that certain?

  Then she thought of her last conversation with Teresa, alone in her bedroom, suspecting nothing. Lexi believed in what she had experienced, without a shadow of a doubt. The incident had changed her life forever.

  Had Helsing experienced something comparable to give him his unshakable convictions about vampires? She had so many questions she needed to ask him, but she had no way of getting in touch.

  As Blair rummaged in the kitchen, she went out to the mailbox at the curb. Weeds grew up between the concrete partitions in the driveway. Neither she nor Blair bothered with yard care, but fortunately the small lawn didn’t look any worse than her neighbors’ swatches of grass and unenthusiastically manicured hedges. She sorted the mail from the box, grocery flyers, bills, credit card solicitations, coupons from Checkers Pizza.

  And a folded note. Initially, she assumed some local kid was offering to do odd jobs, but it was a letter, personalized to her.

  ‘Alexis
Tarada, I have more information that you need. Proof. Witnesses. Please meet me. In your heart you already know the truth. Afterward you will have no doubts – Simon Helsing.’

  Detailed instructions told her how to find an isolated meeting place up in the Front Range, dirt roads in the national forest that led to a set of abandoned buildings from US Army training exercises during World War II. He gave a time for that afternoon. Damn, no one had gotten the mail the day before. How long had the note been waiting there?

  ‘Nothing like planning ahead.’ She studied the letter as she walked back into the house. He couldn’t just meet in a coffee shop again? This was practically in Outer Mongolia. What did he want to show her?

  The drive would take her an hour or more into the mountains, definitely off the beaten track, and the sun would go down fairly early. She might have expected werewolves out in the forest, or even Bigfoot, but she had always assumed vampires were city types. If she was going to make the meeting, she’d have to leave soon.

  What did Lexi actually know about him, for certain? Helsing had been determined to find every detail, every clue. He had already found remarkable things that had a nagging ring of truth, or at least raised uncomfortable questions about vampires.

  Now Helsing promised proof, actual proof. What if the vampire story – however unlikely and absurd it might seem – was real? At least in part? She knew in her heart that it might be no more real than a stuck keyboard sending spurious signals … but what if it was? What would Teresa think?

  If Helsing had proof, how could she not go? One of these days …

  Thanks to Detective Carrow, Lexi now knew the man was genuinely dangerous. But was he a murderer of humans, or a killer of vampires? If Helsing considered her an ally, then she had nothing to fear from him. Right? In fact, she was the last person he would consider to be a vampire.

  But why would he pick such an isolated place for a meeting? Unless there was something he needed to show her at a remote location. It felt like a trap. Common sense screamed at her not to go, but would he really concoct such an elaborate ruse just to get her alone? She could think of easier ways.

  Forewarned is forearmed. Her dad had always said that.

  Speaking of armed, she made up her mind to bring her handgun. Lexi hadn’t been to the shooting range in months, and she doubted she would have the nerve to point the weapon at Helsing and pull the trigger, but if it got to the point where she actually had to fire the .38, then she had already lost. She would bring it, use it as a last resort.

  She just couldn’t believe that Helsing intended to attack her. It didn’t make sense. He wanted her on his side, and he thought he could convince her. One in a million chance … She would give him that chance to make his case.

  Was she obligated to report this letter to Detective Carrow? She had promised to pass along any attempted contact. If she did so, the CSPD could set up an ambush to arrest Helsing when she went to meet him, using her as bait. Everything by the book.

  But that would never work. Isolated in the forest, Helsing would see them coming, and he would easily slip away – and then he would know Lexi had betrayed him. The man would never contact her again, and he would continue his private war against the vampires.

  And she would never see the evidence he promised.

  Though torn, Lexi wanted – needed – to have the proof, to convince herself and also to show Carrow. If Helsing could provide incontrovertible evidence that the staked victims were real vampires, then the entire investigation would take a different turn. Was there any way she could ever convince Carrow?

  Was there any way Helsing could ever convince her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that vampires were real?

  Lexi had to see for herself. If Helsing’s ‘proof’ turned out to be bogus, then she could turn him in.

  Blair was setting out frozen chicken breast filets on a cutting board to thaw. ‘I already know what you’re going to ask. Chicken piccata.’

  ‘Sounds great. That’s exactly what I was going to ask.’ She gave him an apologetic frown. ‘But I’ve got someplace to go. A meeting, and I’ll be gone for dinner. Can you save some for me? I’ll warm it up later.’

  His disappointment was palpable. ‘Not the same as fresh.’

  ‘Your food is always delicious, even reheated.’ She paused, turned to give him a serious look. ‘It’s the man who believes in vampires. He says he has proof, wants to meet me out in the middle of nowhere.’

  He paled. ‘I don’t like the sound of that at all.’

  ‘I’m taking my gun for protection.’ Even as she spoke, the words did not sound reassuring.

  ‘That doesn’t make me feel any better. Do you want me to go with you? Wingman? Moral support? Intimidating bodyguard?’

  ‘No, you’ll spook him. I … I have to do this. Just to see. I’ve got to be sure.’ She smiled at him, looking brave, and he reluctantly conceded. ‘I might be late. Don’t worry about me.’

  ‘I’m going to worry about you.’ He turned back to his chicken, apparently not wanting her to see his expression.

  As Lexi went to get ready, she thought of another reason why she had to go to this mysterious meeting. The letter had been placed in her mailbox.

  Helsing did indeed know where she lived.

  Lexi had driven these roads a few times when she took local hikes, the short trail up to St Peter’s Dome or out to a small waterfall in Emerald Valley. As she left the city proper into the foothills above the Broadmoor district, she drove past mansions, then isolated cabins and rustic trailers. Following the directions in the note, she left the main route and traveled on forest roads. Fortunately, the dirt, gravel, and washboard ruts were not too severe for her Toyota. She watched her odometer, found a turnoff at the appropriate spot, and parked at a chain blocking the feeder road. No road sign, nothing to indicate where she was. But this was the place.

  She wore a jacket in the cool autumn afternoon, and the revolver felt heavy and awkward in her pocket. Colorado had extremely lax gun laws, and getting a concealed-carry permit had involved little more than filling out a form and taking a class at the firing range. Her gun was legal, but she wasn’t in the habit of carrying it around. She wished it made her feel safer.

  She checked her phone: no signal. Leaving her car unlocked – who would break in out here in the middle of nowhere? – Lexi worked her way around the chain and followed the dirt road on what must have been private property, puffing as the incline grew steeper. The surrounding forest was thick, quiet, and peaceful. Tall Ponderosa pines rose on either side of the road, and scrub oak filled the gullies. She thought of how Holly Smith had been assaulted out in this forest by a big hairy creature she called Bigfoot.

  In half a mile, she saw the abandoned concrete structures ahead. The old ruins had gray walls with caved-in roofs. Rusted rebar rose out of the ground like the ribs of prehistoric creatures. Chunks of cement lay around as the buildings crumbled in on themselves. Illegible spray-painted graffiti marked the walls. She remembered reading conspiracy conjectures that gang graffiti was actually secret messages from aliens. This, though, looked as if it had been done by bored kids.

  ‘Hello?’ she called out. ‘Simon, are you here? It’s Alexis.’ She waved the letter in her hand, kept her other palm near the handgun in her pocket. ‘I came as you asked. I’m anxious to see this proof. If it’s what you say it is, I’ll get the word out. It’ll be a game changer.’

  No response.

  Lexi approached the old bunker and walked around the walls, poking her head into one of the darkened door openings. Inside, she found beer cans, snack wrappers, and a twisted pair of discarded panties.

  She could sense that someone was there. ‘Hello?’

  The brooding forest pressed in on her. She kept exploring the abandoned buildings, her feet crunching on concrete fragments.

  ‘Look, I’m not here for hide and seek. I came a long way. Let’s get on with this!’ She spoke loudly so that her anxiety would not show. She slipped
her hand into the pocket with the .38.

  She entered the next bunker, saw more crumbled cement, more beer cans, an old sleeping bag that had been ripped to fluff and scraps by rodents. ‘Hey!’ she called out again, impatient and annoyed. Was Helsing toying with her? Or had he bolted?

  She paced the echoing room, looked up through the collapsed ceiling to see the sky, and strode back through the open doorway. She had to find him somewhere.

  As soon as she emerged, Lexi heard a rustle of movement. Before she could pull the revolver from her pocket, someone dropped a cloth sack over her head and tugged it down tight. She screamed. Rough hands grabbed her arms, but she managed to draw the gun, fumbling to fit her finger through the trigger guard. She kicked out, yelling, but no one would hear her this deep in the forest.

  Someone pulled the gun out of her hand.

  ‘You’ll be fine,’ said a deep male voice. ‘We just can’t let you see.’

  Something wet was pressed up against the sack covering her mouth. A wad of soaked rags. She kept fighting, trying to get free. Flashes of vampires, Bigfoot, and other deadly creatures rolled through her mind. Then she remembered Blair’s sad statement. ‘Now I know there are real monsters in the world.’

  She gasped in a deep breath, and strong chemical fumes entered her mouth, her nose. Each time she inhaled, her brain filled with fog. Dizzy, Lexi lost control and felt herself falling. But that wasn’t possible because people were holding her arms. Her legs turned to water, and her vision faded to black.

  THIRTY-TWO

  After repeated phone calls, it was late afternoon by the time Carrow got through Hugo Zelm’s assistants, schedulers, and other human roadblocks and arranged to see the philanthropist in his mansion.

  He drove past the exclusive gated communities in the upscale Broadmoor district, searching for the address. Zelm’s estate fit right in with the other ostentatious homes, each on an acre or more of rugged mountainous terrain overlooking the city.