Stake

by Kevin J. Anderson

  ‘Why?’ He sounded harried. ‘Got a dozen more names to chase down before a serial killer gets them. Isn’t that just a routine shooting?’

  ‘Shotgun blast, but it’s connected to your other victims.’

  ‘How? I’m heading back to see Alexis Tarada now. Anything that connects her to it?’

  ‘I wouldn’t know about Miss Tarada,’ Watson said. ‘But this was not a normal shotgun blast. It’s very peculiar. Fascinating in fact.’ She held up the bright metal fragment in her tweezers. ‘The victim was shot with a silver bullet.’

  FORTY

  After fleeing the motel, Helsing knew the police would be searching for his car. He tried to remain calm and avoid erratic behavior as he drove. He had a destination in mind – an escape route, a safe place. He headed due west through the city toward the mountains.

  One of the witnesses surely must have identified the Honda, marked down the license number. He could have pulled into a parking lot and swapped plates, but that would delay him, and someone might see. He was drenched in blood. He needed to get out of the city and into the forested foothills without delay.

  Helsing drove along surface streets, bypassing the Interstate until he reached the entrance to the sprawling, beautiful Garden of the Gods Park with its winding roads and spectacular rock formations, almost 1,400 acres inside the city limits. He had considered this escape route long ago. Sightseers cruised along slowly, gawking at the pocked red cliffs and strange hoodoos. Daring climbers dangled from ropes down the rock cliff faces, while crowds of photographers watched.

  The tourist cars drove with maddening slowness, which only increased his panic. Helsing forced himself to inhale to a slow count of six, exhale to an equal count. One mile at a time, and soon he would be back in a safe hiding place. He gripped the steering wheel, fixed his gaze on the languid curves of the road through the park, which butted up against the national forest. When a slow-moving station wagon in front of him pulled over at a scenic viewpoint, Helsing peeled around it, making his way to the western boundary of the park.

  His heart hammered. Everything was falling apart. He had shot the motel manager right in front of witnesses! He had lost his base at the Rambler Star and left huge amounts of evidence there. He had never been so careless! Helsing still had his satchel, his weapons, and he had hidden other emergency bags – with stakes, mallets, another Taser, a machete – in three locations around the city, should it ever come to that. He would not be unarmed in his fight against the lampir, but he was being hunted.

  Right now, the important thing was that the police would never think to look for him in Garden of the Gods, a tourist attraction with plenty of eyes and cameras, but it offered a back door to safety. At the edge of the park, past picnic areas and hiking trailheads, he reached the terminus of the Rampart Range Road, an unpaved thoroughfare that climbed steeply and ran along the spine of the foothills for sixty miles. From there, he would have ample access into the vast national forest and many numbered and unnumbered four-wheel-drive roads.

  As soon as he began toiling up the steep switchbacks, the tourist traffic disappeared and the city dropped away. His best speed was no more than forty miles an hour, but once he crossed the national forest boundary, he felt a weight lift from him. No one would ever find him now. This was his territory.

  He needed to find the Bastion again, at least for now. Lucius and the others would have to take him in.

  To avoid hikers, hunters, or off-road vehicle enthusiasts, he diverted on to smaller forest roads, little more than logging routes. Helsing knew them all from when he had lived out here. Each member of the Bastion understood how everything was connected.

  He spent more than two hours on the rough road before he found the right spot near an unmarked side trail. He parked the car out of sight at an unofficial camping spot with a ring of stones around a fire pit. The Bastion hid several emergency caches in strategic places, ready with food, clothing, and medical supplies in case any member needed it. Helsing could have taken what he needed from one of those, cleaned and resupplied himself without bothering to see Lucius again – especially considering that he had killed Daniel Gardon, one of their own.

  Gardon had left the community, expressed doubts about the Bastion’s beliefs, but he had remained loyal and helpful. Helsing had killed him – by accident, but he was still dead. Previously, Helsing had been so careful to kill only vampires, checking and double-checking his suspicions before making his move. But Gardon was an innocent, in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  And that made Simon Helsing a murderer. He had a hard time wrestling with that guilt.

  He and the Bastion did have the same goals, saw the same threat of the lampir, even though they did not share his methods. Now, distraught, he needed to go back to the people, a prodigal son. He had to find them again, had to tell them what he had done. Gardon was unintentional, collateral damage, a foot soldier fallen in a war for the human race.

  Hours later, when he finally walked into the Bastion camp, exhausted and covered with dark, dried blood, he was surprised to see the people striking their tents, packing up the tables, folding tarps, and preparing their supplies for a swift move.

  Lucius organized the activities while Mama tied down plastic sheets, wrapped up packages of preserved food. Teenagers coiled ropes, disassembled camp stoves, folded canvas chairs, latched crates and coolers. They spotted Helsing as soon as he approached, his footsteps crackling in the underbrush.

  Lucius put his hands on his hips and glowered at Helsing. ‘Our scouts reported you were coming from a mile back, but we couldn’t wait. Too much attention, and we have to go deeper into the forest to hide. We’ve chosen a more isolated site.’ He ran his gaze up and down the blood-covered figure. ‘Oh, Simon, what did you do now?’

  ‘I did what needed to be done.’ Helsing looked at his red-flecked hands, holding the satchel that held his weapons and tools. They would find out soon enough about the dead motel manager, but right now he needed their help. ‘Instead of hiding, I’d rather you came back to the city and joined me in my work. This is a war, Lucius! I’ve exposed the vampires. With the whole Bastion working together, we could eradicate the lampir. Or at least fight back! I know who the king vampire is and where he lives. I plan to kill him on Saturday.’

  The people paused in their work, and Lucius stood firm. ‘You will have to do it without us, Simon. You’ve already endangered the Bastion. You draw attention to yourself, and you made the outsiders suspicious of us.’ He leaned closer, drawing his heavy brows together. ‘No one believes in vampires. They think you’re crazy.’

  ‘Alexis Tarada believes,’ Helsing insisted. ‘She’s on our side. I’ve spoken with her.’

  ‘So have I,’ Lucius said, surprising him. ‘I tried to convince her. She may help, but I won’t rely on her. But what good could she do? Most people consider her a gullible fool, too.’

  Children ran around the camp, packing their clothes into duffels. Lucius did not like to keep his people in the same place for too long, but this time they seemed more frantic about the transfer. They would flee deeper into the wilderness than ever before.

  ‘I know the threat, Lucius. I’m helping to save the world. I’ve killed many vampires and identified others. But I never wanted to do this alone. I thought I was part of the Bastion, and the Bastion was part of the crusade. We can’t just hide like rabbits!’

  ‘The Bastion is about its own survival. That’s why we were formed in the first place. I have to put my people first.’

  Mama came up to stand next to her husband, but she showed compassion for Helsing. ‘You are welcome among us, Simon. Stay out here. It’s too dangerous in the city. Your real mission is to help us survive – survive with us.’

  ‘My real mission is back there.’ He gestured east toward Colorado Springs. ‘I’m a soldier, not a coward – like you all seem to be.’

  Lucius said, ‘The human race needs to survive. It is what it is.’

  ‘I
want to survive by killing the enemy.’ Helsing felt rage. ‘You and I have opposite philosophies.’

  ‘That we do, Simon.’ Lucius sounded deeply sad. ‘If you stay here, you are welcome as a contributing member of the group, as you were before, but you have to follow the rules. If you go back to the city, you are no longer part of the Bastion.’ He extended a beefy forefinger. ‘Understand that. If you keep killing people, we can’t have anything further to do with you.’

  Helsing plucked at his sticky shirt. ‘At least give me some clothes. I’ll change and be away.’

  Lucius remained silent, trembling with anger over the perceived danger to his followers. The big bearded man had been Helsing’s mentor, someone who had helped save him and guide him after hunting vampires on his own as he crossed the United States. Lucius had been his ally, and the Bastion had been his army.

  But not anymore.

  Mama took pity on him. She went to one of the packs and sorted through clothes, pulling out a neatly folded shirt and an old pair of blue jeans. ‘This is what we can spare.’

  ‘Nothing more,’ Lucius said. ‘I did not want this to end as it has. I’d rather have you here among us. I care a great deal for you, but if you are a threat to the Bastion, then I have to do what’s right for my people.’

  ‘Go ahead and run away. Vanish in the forest like frightened deer,’ Helsing said with a sneer. ‘I can take care of myself. I always have.’ He snatched the shirt and pants from Mama’s hands, then paused to look at her with more warmth. ‘Thank you. You were always good to me.’

  The Bastion pulled up stakes and packed two burly ATVs with full loads to go find their new camp. The vehicles rumbled off, engines buzzing in the peaceful forest. Deeply disappointed, Helsing swallowed hard and clutched the clothes against his chest as he watched them go.

  Not wanting to stay as the rest of the camp finished pulling up stakes, he headed toward some old Army ruins where he could take shelter, change clothes, and rest while making new plans. He no longer cared about the Bastion. He didn’t belong among them. He was alone in this fight against the vampire infestation.

  Except for Alexis Tarada.

  FORTY-ONE

  Lexi wasn’t used to sleeping during the afternoon, and her dreams were full of strangeness – not nightmares about bloodsucking monsters, but fuzzy nostalgia of safe but monotonous high school days in Dubuque. She and her best friend Teresa were trapped inside a tiny bubble with a narrow horizon, both of them with aspirations to do more.

  Maybe because of the after-effects of the Bastion’s knockout drugs, she dreamed about Teresa now. She saw her friend in her bedroom discussing plans for the future, just like on that last night. Both young women were bright eyed, full of imagination and possibilities. Teresa seemed as real as her most vivid memory, but dreams always made things seem possible. Teresa looked as beautiful as always, young and with a full future ahead of her … even though Lexi knew that she was already dead.

  Was a dream any less real than a ghost?

  ‘You’re doing it, Lexi,’ Teresa said, ‘just like we always promised each other. You and I both know that the world is full of mysteries. You’ll find something. One of these days, you’re sure to be right. We were going to do it together, but now it’s up to you.’

  ‘I want you with me,’ Lexi said. ‘You left me.’

  Teresa just shrugged. ‘It wasn’t my call.’

  She wondered if her friend had gained some great wisdom on the other side of death. ‘I have to know. Were you really there in my room that night?’

  Teresa used a seemingly tangible hand to brush long brown hair away from her eyes. ‘Just as I’m really here now.’

  ‘I’m dreaming.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean I’m not here.’ She grew more intense. ‘Don’t give up hope, Lexi. You and I know there are monsters in the world, just as there are miracles.’ The young woman – the dream, the ghost, her best friend – frowned. ‘And there are also disappointments.’

  ‘I miss you, Teresa.’ Lexi reached out for her, but the other girl vanished without responding.

  After she awoke, she lay thinking. Were these just restless thoughts from her subconscious, or was it Teresa communicating with her again? At any other time, she would have doubted that, but now that she had heard the stories Lucius told, seen the dossier Simon Helsing had gathered, she wrestled with questions about the existence of vampires. Could Helsing, and Lucius, and all the members of the Bastion suffer from the same delusion? Some kind of mass hysteria? Lexi didn’t know whether or not to dismiss the idea.

  Was Teresa trying to make her remember her sense of mystery and wonder?

  Blair made her a cup of coffee as soon as she emerged from her troubling nap. ‘I don’t care if it’s late in the day. You look like you need it, Lex.’ He handed her the steaming mug fresh from the French press. ‘I know what it’s like to have a hard night.’

  ‘This isn’t a hangover. At least not the normal kind.’

  ‘I need to go to work, but we should have a chat when I get home. Free pass doesn’t last forever.’

  ‘I know.’

  Blair kissed her on the cheek and headed off for the happy hour shift at the martini bar. Lexi sat at the kitchen table for a long time while her coffee got cold. She sipped occasionally, alone in the house.

  Though it was sunset, the doorbell rang, and she was surprised to find a flustered Detective Carrow standing on her porch, still talking into his cell phone.

  He scowled accusingly at her as he ended the call. ‘You’re finally home. We need to talk.’

  She was immediately on her guard. ‘Blair said you stopped by … something about another murder?’ Lexi kept her voice cool, not in a conversational mood. She had promised to tell him if she had any other contact with Simon Helsing, but her long, strange meeting with the Bastion was something else entirely. She had never promised to tell him about the isolated community, and she doubted he would believe her even if she told him about the group of feral survivalists who feared a coming apocalypse, vampire or otherwise. ‘Did the stake killer—’

  Carrow cut her off. ‘His name is Simon Helsing, as we both know.’

  ‘I’m not disagreeing with you. And, no, I haven’t been contacted by him again. I promised I would call you if he did.’ She tried to keep a straight face, feeling disingenuous.

  He seemed to take that as a small victory. ‘Things change fast around here, Miss Tarada. I stopped by just before noon because another brutal killing occurred this morning – a man named Tom Grollin, stunned with a Taser and then decapitated. The coroner thinks it was done with a long butcher knife and a hatchet. Like Patric Ryan.’

  The thought of the violence made black fuzz appear around her vision. Her stomach, already queasy, roiled with greater agitation. She tried to picture Helsing chopping the victim’s head off, blood spraying everywhere. ‘Was the mouth stuffed with garlic?’

  Carrow gave her an annoyed look. ‘You know it was. Grollin was one of the names in the file Helsing gave you, an identified target. And I know you remember that, too.’

  ‘Yes, a suspected vampire. Is that how you found him? By checking names on the list?’

  ‘I was trying to warn potential victims, but I was too late in his case. Yesterday, I went to see Hugo Zelm because I figured he was in the greatest danger. The king vampire.’ His voice dripped with sarcasm. ‘I messed up my priorities, left other people vulnerable.’

  ‘And what about Tom Grollin?’ Lexi pressed. ‘Did you find anything suspicious on the body? In the apartment? Any hint that he might have been a vampire?’

  Carrow’s face flushed, and she could see he was genuinely sick and angry. ‘Of course not! He was just a taxi driver, murdered in cold blood. Stop with your fairy tales.’

  Now Lexi felt desperate. Her dream with Teresa had viscerally reminded her that there were indeed unexplained things in the world. She clung to her insistent hope that something had to be real. If vampires did exist, then
Simon Helsing was fighting to save humans and saving lives. That would validate her interaction with him. On the other hand, if vampires weren’t real, if Helsing’s evidence didn’t hold water and he had killed an innocent cab driver – as well as those other victims – then he was just a madman and a murderer.

  And Lexi was helping him.

  ‘Could there possibly be anything unusual about the victims? What if that’s the connecting thread among the cases? Similar blood test results, DNA matches, the presence of enzymes that would expose differences from a normal human? Helsing might have been obsessive, but he wasn’t a fool.’

  ‘You’re sounding paranoid, Miss Tarada, and more than a little nuts.’

  She remembered the look in Lucius’s eyes when he told her about the vampire attacking their camp, slaughtering the honey woman. ‘Haven’t you seen any movies? The crazy guy who rails about supernatural threats always turns out to be right! The Night Stalker, The X-Files, Invasion of the Body Snatchers.’

  ‘Those are just movies – fiction. You’ve been reading your own website for too long, and you’re fostering his delusions,’ the detective snapped. ‘What if you nudged him over the edge by buying into that craziness? Convinced him to kill Grollin?’

  Lexi lowered her voice and hissed, ‘I didn’t convince him of anything!’

  Carrow lashed out, trying to startle her. ‘So why did he kill the motel manager, then? Daniel Gardon. He wasn’t on the list.’

  The name meant nothing to her. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Rambler Star Motel down on South Nevada. He was shot to death this morning, only an hour or two after the Grollin murder. This time it was a shotgun blast. At first it looked like an everyday killing, but the coroner just called.’ He held up his phone. ‘The shotgun shell was filled with silver pellets.’

  Lexi’s thoughts spun. ‘I can’t fault your logic, Detective. A silver bullet is too much of a coincidence. But why the manager of a motel? His name wasn’t in the dossier, I’m sure of it.’