Dark Vigil

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Dark Vigil Page 17

by Gary Piserchio


  “I know why he’d keep Tabby alive.” He was panicked. “Promise me you won’t stake me, and I’ll tell you.”

  “Go on.”

  “Promise me.”

  “Okay, I promise.”

  “The only reason I can think of is the daemón. It’s looking for a host. It tried a human—”

  “Where? Where did it do this?”

  He nodded. “You were right. Lorcán’s nest is in Kansas City.”

  Calico bit at the inside of her cheek. Maybe Pomeranian wasn’t lying to her. “Where in Kansas City?”

  Winston shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. I swear.”

  “I believe you,” she said and shoved the stake through his chest.

  “You c—” his voice faded, and he convulsed once before going still.

  She nodded at him. “You got that right.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Why aren't you happy? It was a prime incident after all.

  Stop being a dick for half a second. People were murdered.

  And what the hell did you expect from a real incident—a nice comfy seat with popcorn and Junior Mints?

  Screw you.

  Lizzi had managed to fall back to sleep after finally washing up in the bathroom of her apartment. She woke up really early. Outside her bedroom window, dawn was beautiful with striking oranges and washed-out blues. That was wrong. After what happened, it should have been gray and cold. Desolate. The normal morning made her feel more disconnected.

  Getting out her two suitcases, hand-me-downs from her mom, she plopped them open on the bed. They had white hard plastic-y exteriors with black and white flower designs. Direct from the ‘70s. And they smelled of her mom’s face powders.

  Lizzi packed quickly, left her apartment, the door hanging open, dumped the suitcases into the backseat of her blue Corolla, and took off. Her first thought was her folks’ place in Park Hill, but if the vampires were following her—no, she couldn’t go to anyone. She had to hide and hope, so she just drove.

  What had she expected with a prime incident? Lizzi hated to admit it was rather simplistic. She'd find positive evidence that she’d excitedly post on the forums, her life still perfectly intact. There hadn’t been vampires in this daydream who would show up at her apartment with a little ginger chick standing up to them. Where was that girl now?

  "I'm going to find her," she said out loud.

  She'd let Calico know what the vampire told her, then she'd play it by ear. There was a good chance that girl wouldn't want anything to do with Lizzi after she stole the books—which the vampires now had.

  You fucked up pretty good.

  That was an understatement of epic proportions. She thought about letting the online group know she'd witnessed a prime incident but realized she didn't want to. Having experienced it, bragging or even just writing about it online seemed like a betrayal of its seriousness. Especially if that little ginger got herself killed.

  She pulled into a Best Buy to get a new phone, then she’d find a hotel and figure out what to do next.

  The first hotel Lizzi went to didn’t last very long. She walked into the lobby, stared at the reception desk, and kept going. What if they were following her? She had a terrible itch on the back of her neck, as though someone were right behind and ready to grab her. It was like playing chase as a little kid with that adrenaline and fear of being caught. Except there was none of the fun excitement. None of the shouting laughs.

  You’re running scared.

  Duh. She walked through the lobby to a side door that took her back to the street parking lot. It was just past noon. The August sun was stifling. She drove to Colfax Avenue and randomly turned right. Three blocks down she checked into the first motel she came across. It was cheap and looked it. She got a room on the first floor, opened the drapes on the large front window, pulled up a chair, and watched for vampires in ski masks.

  She woke up in darkness, smothering heat, and a crick in her neck. There was a crappy A/C in the front wall, but she hadn’t turned it on. Checking her new phone, it was three in the morning. She looked out at a quiet Colfax.

  Wouldn’t I be dead already if they were following me?

  Eh, maybe they’re hoping you’ll lead them to that girl.

  She got into her PJs, unpacked her toiletries, and went into the bathroom to clean up. Afterward, she started up her laptop and made herself as comfortable as she could on her squeaky lumpy bed.

  She surfed her usual paranormal forums and Facebook groups to see what was happening, keeping an eye out for anything about Calico’s family or any unusual activity that she could attribute to vampires. But there wasn’t a sudden spike in bloodless corpses littering the Front Range.

  Next, she Googled local news for anything about her apartment—actually just Googling the neighborhood, afraid that if she put in her address the cops would come busting down her door.

  Paranoid much?

  Not paranoid enough, she thought, as she started a wider search for anything about Calico in the mainstream media. There wasn’t any new information in the stories that came up.

  “How is that ginger still alive?” she said. That girl was petite and couldn’t be all that strong.

  She got you out in more-or-less one piece.

  True. And she killed that vampire. The girl had definite skills and was vicious as fuck. Then Lizzi got a pain in her gut from the guilt that flooded her body. She broke out in a cold sweat. That girl wouldn’t have been at her apartment if she hadn’t stolen those books and pretty much handed them over to the vampires.

  That was a stupid-ass stunt.

  Lizzi nodded. She had to make it up to Calico somehow. She DMed her with an apology and what she hoped came across as an earnest offer to help in any way she could.

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  Calico had never been to Kansas City before, but with the mall-ification of America, it didn’t seem all that different from Denver. The downtown area wasn’t as big, but all the same fast food and chain stores were there, just the street names were changed to protect the innocent.

  She Ubered from the airport to a random hotel downtown. It was nearly 5 A.M. and still dark outside. She dumped her suitcases onto one of the queen beds, and then sat at the little table and opened her laptop. She signed into the hotel’s Wi-Fi and went to the website forum where she’d made first contact with Lizzi.

  She had a message from LizWill82:

  The vampires want me to set up a meeting with you. To act like it’s just between me and you but fuck them. I’m sorry they took your books. I know it’s my fault. I want to help.

  Calico’s fingers hovered over the keyboard. Thoughts of telling her to go fuck herself danced in her head. She ended up typing:

  Stay safe.

  Next, she searched for Pomeranian. It didn’t take long to find an article about Detective Detrick Palmerroy. He was at Saint Luke’s Hospital not too far away. She undressed, cleaned her face, and then carefully unwrapped her wrist.

  There was dried blood on the bandage she’d applied after leaving Winston in the basement, but—she squinted at the wound. It had stopped bleeding and there was a thin scab along the cut line. How was that possible? Then it dawned on her that it must have been a residual effect of Cait Sidhe saving her life. She dropped the bandage in the trash and washed the dried blood from her wrist. Finally, she set her phone for 9 A.M. and tried to get a little sleep.

  The hospital was less than ten minutes from Calico’s hotel. A hospital volunteer gave her his room number without batting an eye, so he wasn’t under any visitor restrictions.

  A couple voices came from his room. She stopped outside the partially open door to listen. Three male voices, one of which was Palmerroy’s, discussed police matters. It was mostly inane conversation—what was happening at the precinct and the like.

  She knocked and entered. Palmerroy’s set-up startled her. He was in the middle of a spider web of hanging wires and tubes and nylon straps holdi
ng legs and arms. He was in several casts. The face she had seen in Denver was animated and ruddy with color—his real face was pale and sickly and hardly moved.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Uh, hi. Wow, I wasn’t expecting you.” His speech was low and breathy as he seemed to have difficulty breathing.

  His two cop buddies stared at her.

  It took Palmerroy a couple moments to gather himself. “Uh, this is Calico, a friend from Denver. This is Myron and Jerry.”

  She shook hands and ignored Jerry’s not-so-subtle scan of her body. The cop said, “Hey, if you need a guide around town, I’d be happy to oblige.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “But I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, if you—”

  “Guys,” said Palmerroy, “give me a moment with her, okay?”

  “Oh, sure,” said Myron. “Come on Tour Guide. We need to get back to the precinct anyway.”

  The two cops left. Calico closed the door. When she turned back, Palmerroy was staring at her. “How’d you find me?”

  She shrugged. “Not too many cops got busted up as bad as you in Kansas City.”

  “Of course. So why are you here?”

  “Been thinking about what you said back in Denver, about Lorcán being from here. My sister and aunt might have been in Kansas City hunting him.”

  “So they were those warrior types?”

  “Bandruí gaiscíoch. Yes. They were both wicked fierce and trained to fight since birth.”

  Palmerroy gave a low whistle, then coughed and gasped for air for several long seconds before composing himself. In a huskier voice, he said, “Wow. There’s a lot going on here, isn’t there?”

  “Here in Kansas City? I don’t know, but it sounds like.”

  “I mean, in all this. Your family, the demon and the druids and—all this.”

  Calico nodded. “Yes. Yes, there is. And I think my aunt and sister went up against Lorcán and, well, there’s a chance my aunt was killed, but that my sister is still alive, a prisoner of the vampire. According to a, uh, source of mine, the daemón wants a host.”

  “Oh, shit,” he said, his face somehow turning paler. “You have to find her fast or she could end up like me or worse.”

  Calico shuddered. “Do you know where she might be?”

  “I think so, but I don’t know if I can in good conscience give you the address. They’ll kill you. I’d be sending you to your death.”

  “I’ll take that chance.” She unzipped her jacket and showed him her vest with the four rowan stakes. “But I’m prepared. At least as much as I can be.”

  He looked at her for several moments. “Is this, like, a common everyday thing to you?”

  She smiled thinly. “It’s funny how quickly you get used to shit.”

  He gave the slightest of nods. “Yeah. But even still, I’m going to tell my buddies at the precinct. They’d have a better chance of—”

  “You’d be sending them to their deaths, and you know it.”

  “And I wouldn’t be sending you to your death?”

  She shrugged. “At least I know what to expect. If I don’t make it, then you’ll have to figure something else out. Like a small tactical nuke.”

  Palmerroy gave a slight shake of his head. “It’s all unbelievable.”

  “Yet, here we are.”

  He nodded. “I’ve been wrestling with what to do next. I knew I couldn’t just ignore that these killers were in my town, but like you said, I couldn’t tell my buddies.” He went quiet and she gave him time to think it through.

  He finally whispered, “I—I’ve only been back once.”

  “Excuse me?”

  He spoke louder. “I went back one time—to the place where I was attacked. It was terrifying. PTSD, I assume. I should have kept track of what they were up to. Tried to do something to stop them. But—I couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

  Calico looked worriedly at one of the machines hovering over the detective. It beeped an alarm as his pulse and blood pressure both spiked. His breathing became labored.

  “It’s okay,” she said, putting a hand on his arm, not knowing if he could even feel it. “Maybe I can stop them.”

  “You—you don’t understand. I can’t let you go alone. I’m going to scope it out for you.” As he said the words, spoke them out loud, it seemed to snap the stress. The machine calmed down as his pulse dropped. He still had difficulty breathing, but it was getting better.

  “That would be—thank you. I appreciate it.” She bit the inside of her lip, not sure how to proceed.

  He picked up on it, though. “You want me to go now, don’t you?”

  She sighed and frowned. “I think Lorcán is still in Denver, so I want to go after my sister while he’s away. If I’m lucky, the daemón’s in Denver, too, and I can breeze in and out.”

  He didn’t look happy, but he managed a slight nod. “Makes sense. Yeah. I’ll go right now. Shouldn’t take long.” He closed his eyes and his spirit or whatever it was rose from the bed.

  “Holy cow,” she said. “That’s incredible.”

  He smiled at her and when he spoke, his voice was strong and normal. “It’s taken me awhile to figure out how to get people to see me. At first I was invisible.” He chuckled. “I have to remember to give myself clothes.”

  She was mesmerized by his floating form. “How do you talk?”

  He shrugged. “How do I do any of this? But I have some bad news already. When I’m like this I can feel the demon’s presence. I followed it to Denver the other day when I was able to save you. Well, I can feel it right now, and it’s in Kansas City. In the building where I was attacked and where your sister most likely is.”

  “Damn,” muttered Calico. She had no idea how she could go up against that thing. Though maybe with Palmerroy’s help it wouldn’t be as bleak as it felt at that moment.

  “Still, I’ll go take a look and be right back.” His spirit zipped through the wall.

  “Wow.” She looked back at the body. He appeared to be resting with his eyes closed. The machines around him kept doing their thing. His heart rate returned to normal, as did his blood pressure and breathing. He gave the appearance of just being asleep.

  She grabbed a chair and pulled it up next to the bed and leaned in close. “Can you hear me? Pomeranian?”

  There was no response. She sat back and pulled out her phone to nervously pass the time.

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  Detrick Palmerroy made himself invisible when leaving the hospital. Flying to the building in a matter of seconds, he floated outside the fourth floor where he sensed the demon. He still didn’t know if the demon could sense him, so he waited. It didn’t seem to move.

  He floated down to the next floor, where he’d been attacked. The memory flooded back. The pain as the demon broke him. The terror of it, knowing there was nothing he could do to stop the attack.

  Terror. Was that what he was feeling? As a cop he’d felt fear plenty of times, even on a routine traffic stop. There were those times when a traffic stop just didn’t feel right. But he did his job. Now, however, even as a spirit or a ghost, the terror was somehow palpable and the memory visceral.

  He had to talk himself into going into the building. And he couldn’t do it. He hung motionless outside. Memories of being brutalized smoldered in his head. He wondered briefly if his body back at the hospital was experiencing heart palpitations and rapid breathing.

  “Okay. Just poke your head in. Just a quick peek.” He rechecked the demon’s location. It was still on the floor above. With grim determination, or maybe it was fatal determination, he moved through the outer walls.

  He forced himself to move out onto the floor, not just poke his head in. He checked for the demon yet again before he looked around. There were three vampires sleeping on the wood floor. There were no lights on, but he could see everything, including their ashen faces and unmoving chests. They could have been dead men. He watched them for a few moments. Th
ey were large, well-muscled with lean faces. Athletes of some kind—or had been. One of them twitched.

  Palmerroy moved around the room, stopping at the table with the wood box. It had strange characters engraved on it and looked really old, antique old. Then he spun toward the ceiling, sensing the demon. It came through the ceiling as a dark shadowy blur. Before he could even think about moving, it entangled him. There was no feeling to it, no pain, but he was trapped, as though he were a sheet caught in the branches of a tree.

  What are you?

  It didn’t know? But it also didn’t matter because he couldn’t escape. The demon pulled him to the table and then into the box like an octopus pulling its prey into its den.

  I ask again, what are you? There is a sense of human about you. A sense of familiarity.

  It wasn’t all-seeing and all-powerful. That was a good thing, but Palmerroy couldn’t escape. In Denver, there had been the light.

  “I am the light,” he thought. And it was the dark. Opposites. But how had he made the light? It hadn’t come from a conscious place; he certainly wasn’t thinking about light. What had he been thinking?

  Save the woman. That was all. He followed the demon to Denver, and it attacked the woman.

  Couldn’t he save himself? Apparently not, as it pulled him farther into the box. Then he had a new sensation. The demon was consuming him. There was no pain, just a sense of himself disappearing into the maws of evil darkness.

  He lurched from the box, almost pulling free, and he felt the demon’s surprise as it tried to wrap him more tightly and pull him back in. He lurched again and opened his eyes in the hospital.

  “Oh, crickets,” he mumbled, looking up into the face of a doctor holding defibrillator paddles.

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  It took quite some time for Calico to get in to see Palmerroy after his heart episode. But finally, she sat next to him.

 

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