by Ann Charles
I leaned closer to the mirror, slathering the fake blood across the latex cut stuck to my cheek.
The scratching sound came through the window again, louder. Either one of the raccoons was climbing up a drain spout, or there was a loose wire blowing in the wind and scraping over the building’s brick exter …
Something hissed at the window, long and slow.
I glanced over at the old radiator to see if it had sprung a leak and nearly choked on my tongue.
A Nachzehrer was at the window.
Correction. A Nachzehrer was trying to jam its head through the open window. As I stared, frozen with disbelief, it ate my star-shaped nametag. Then one gangly arm reached through the narrow opening. Its fingers made wide swipes in the air in my direction while its teeth clacked and gnashed.
“Holy fucking shit,” I whispered, backing up against the bathroom door.
The ugly bastard turned its elongated head sideways and managed to squeeze partway through the opening, but its ears were in the way. It pulled back and tried to push the window open farther, but the warped frame held it in place.
A wave of stench reached me. The smell of rot and putrescence. I recoiled, lifting my arm and breathing into my elbow.
Somebody knocked on the other side of the door. “Is anybody in there?” a high-pitched voice called out.
Shit! I pressed back against the door, barring the way, fumbling to make sure it was locked.
The Nachzehrer gave up on trying to open the window and hissed in at me.
I grabbed the loose roll of paper towels from the sink counter and threw it, hitting the window above it. “Get out of here, you dickhead!”
“How rude,” I heard the woman say from the other side of the door.
“Sorry!” I called back. “I wasn’t talking to you.”
Silence.
The lady must have left. Good. Although, if she went to get the manager, I was screwed.
I scowled at the Nachzehrer. It was trying to shove its head through the open window again, struggling harder than before.
I had to do something. Get rid of it somehow. But I needed a weapon.
I glanced around the room.
A plastic vase with flowers—nope.
Spare rolls of toilet paper under the sink—nope.
A plug-in air freshener—nope.
A plastic spray bottle with blue liquid in it—maybe.
Come on, Violet. Think!
The Nachzehrer growled, its nails scraping on the brick outside as it tried to get more leverage. A trail of something dark ran down over its hollow cheek and dripped onto the radiator, where it sizzled into steam.
Blood.
Hell’s bells! It was tearing off its own freaking ear. This jerk was really determined to get to me.
The frame creaked as the Nachzehrer pushed again. Then its long tongue unrolled from between its pointy teeth and aimed straight at me.
I ran my hand down the side of my face, coming away with a piece of jelly-covered latex stuck to my palm. Ick! I flung it to the floor.
What a hellish mess. What was I going to …
The Nachzehrer shoved again, whining as its skin pulled back from its teeth, showing me its blackened gums.
The window glass cracked. The outer frame splintered, and a piece of wood flew off, landing on the tiles between us.
I stared at the splintered wood. It was only about a foot long, but maybe if I could get close enough to the bastard, I could jam that thing down its throat.
Although those were awfully sharp teeth.
It hissed again, its long fingers reaching up to grab at the frame.
I was out of time.
“Oh, fuck me.” I rushed toward the piece of wood on the floor. As I bent down to grab it, the Nachzehrer lunged and swung for me. Its fingers snagged my dress, catching hold.
“Let go, damn it!” I struggled to pull free as it tried to haul me closer, dragging me inch by inch along the slick tiles toward its gnashing teeth.
Crap! This was going south fast … but I did now have the rather solid piece of wood in my hands.
Suddenly, I realized what I had to do. Instead of pulling away, I changed course and charged toward it, taking it by surprise. I held onto each end of the wood and rammed it flat against its teeth.
Its head reared from the blow, wrenching out of the window. As its weight shifted backward, its arms flailed, its fingers scratching at the brick as it started to slide down the side of the building.
“Yes!” I cheered. “Good-bye, you bast—”
One of its hands caught hold of the brick sill outside the window. The ugly jerk popped up again on the other side of the fractured glass, its black eyes glaring in at me.
I grabbed the top of the window and tugged down, trying to close it, but the damned thing was stuck.
“Come on!” I grunted and pulled down again.
Something hot and wet touched my chest. I looked down and let out a small shriek. Its tongue jutted through the open window, slithering up along my neck.
“Oh, hell no.” I yanked down with everything I had.
The window slammed shut with a solid thud.
The Nachzehrer screeched and fell backward into the night.
In the sudden silence that followed, the radiator sizzled.
I looked down. “Oh, gross!”
Part of the thing’s tongue lay on the radiator, cooking at a low sizzle.
I grabbed the roll of paper towels from the floor and gave it a couple of pokes. It didn’t move. I looked around, frantic. I couldn’t just leave it here for the next person visiting the ladies’ room to find. God, it was really starting to stink, too. But what …
Screw it. I was a mom. I’d handled plenty of disgusting crap in my life. I grabbed a bunch of toilet paper from the stall and carefully picked up the tongue, gagging when it stuck a little to the radiator. Then I dropped it in the toilet and flushed it away.
After I scrubbed my hands twice with soap and water, I returned to the window, peering through the fractured glass. Where had the Nachzehrer gone? Back into the trees? I needed to find it and finish it off before someone else saw it. I tried to look straight down again, but it was no use.
I saw something move near the Adams Museum. Framing my eyes with my hands, I searched for the creature under the glow of the streetlights. Where was that long-legged asshole?
What I saw instead made me gasp.
Or rather who. Sporting a top hat, black coat, and cane, Cornelius danced along the sidewalk like he didn’t have a care in the world. Along with Harvey and other property owners of the haunted locations starring in the Paranormal Realty show, Cornelius had been invited to attend the premiere as a special guest, so he was most likely on his way here. It was a bad night to be running late.
I watched as he paused near the front of the museum to twirl not once, but twice.
Who did he think he was? Fred Astaire?
I tried to lift up the window to call out a warning, but the sucker wasn’t budging now without a wrecking ball.
Across the way, in the parking lot in front of the old train passenger station, I saw a long-limbed, spidery figure slinking in and out of the shadows between the vehicles parked in the lot, heading toward my SUV. Once there, it rounded to the driver’s side and started rubbing its head against the door. At least it looked like it was rubbing. Maybe it was licking with a bloody half-tongue.
I shuddered and focused back on Cornelius. He had stopped at the front corner of the Adams Museum and was beating on the museum signpost with his cane. No. Wait. After pressing my nose closer to the glass, I could see that he was actually sword fighting with the sign.
That meant he was making noise.
How long until the Nachzehrer heard him? Could it hear him? The first two I’d run into had been deaf. It didn’t matter, because Cornelius would be into view soon for the nasty bastard.
“Cornelius,” I whispered, my breath steaming the glass. I tapped on the window
. “Cornelius! Get out of there.”
Of course he couldn’t hear me from this distance. Not to mention that his inner sixth sense was tuned to the whispering dead, not the loud-mouthed living.
Another check on the Nachzehrer sent my heart tumbling. It was no longer loving up to my vehicle. Instead, it stood on the roof and was peering toward the Adams Museum.
“Shit!” I had to go. I had to get to Cornelius before the Nachzehrer did.
Grabbing my purse from the sink counter, I unlocked the door and ran out, running into someone waiting in the shadows.
“What the hell, Violet?” Natalie asked, pulling herself up off the floor. “You’ve been in there forever. I was coming to see if you died in there.”
“Almost.”
I started down the narrow hallway toward the restaurant’s main room, but she caught my arm.
“Hold up. Where’s the fire?” she joked.
“Outside! Cornelius!” I shook free, and raced out into the restaurant.
The overhead lights were all off as the Paranormal Realty show played on the big screens. I heard the familiar voice of Dickie Dowdin, the host, going on about how haunted Deadwood was as I scanned the room for Doc and Harvey in the dim light coming from the televisions. I couldn’t find them in the sea of bodies, though, and there was no time to search for needles in the haystack.
“Violet,” Natalie whispered, grabbing hold of my arm again. “What’s going on? Is Cornelius hurt?”
“Not yet. But he will be if I don’t go get him soon.” I handed her my purse. “Find Doc. Meet us in the parking lot.”
“Vi—”
“Now!” I shoved her toward the bar where I’d left Doc before my escape to the bathroom.
I started to weave through the crowd toward the front doors, but then I noticed a lit exit sign by another door off to the side. When I pushed through it, I found myself in a stairwell. These must be the back stairs, which should dump me out next to Pioneer Way—perfect!
I started down the steps and then stopped and backed up. On the wall at the top hung a fire extinguisher. Next to it, in a glass case with a bright red metal frame, was an ax for emergency use.
“Hello, gorgeous,” I whispered and pulled open the door to the case. The ax was actually more of a long-handled hatchet, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
Ax in hand, I rushed down the stairs and blasted through the steel door at the bottom, racing out onto a gravel pad. A big green trash bin sat front and center. Ha! I was right on that count, at least. But as it turned out I’d probably been smelling the Nachzehrer, not the garbage.
I looked up at the building, locating the bathroom window overhead. Holy flippin’ flap, it was high up. How did that bastard fall from there and not leave a splat of blood on the ground? I shook off the thought. Now was not the time to play Cooper’s crime scene game. I had to get across Pioneer Way and help Cornelius.
I turned back toward the road and cursed. I’d forgotten about the concrete jersey barrier that lined the four-lane street, and how high the street was compared to the building’s bottom floor. I’d have to be eight feet tall to pull myself up to the street level from here, and that was if I were able to do a single pullup, which I wasn’t.
To my right, the way was blocked by another building. To my left, I’d have to run almost a block to Lee Street, where the road leveled out with the ground, before I could cross.
Clack-clack, clack-clack, clack-clack.
What was that? Was it the creature’s nails on the asphalt? No, it sounded more solid.
Above the repetitious clacking, another sound rang out in the cold calm—an accordion. Then a trumpet. Then drums. And maybe a tuba. Was that …
Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick! It was polka music.
That was why Cornelius had been dancing and twirling. He was listening to polka music, which he’d once told me revs him up and opens his psychic ears. I thought he usually saved polka tunes for the morning.
Beneath the polka beat I heard something else—ragged pants of breath mixed with guttural growls.
Chills drag-raced up and down my spine. That damned polka beat was like a freakin’ beacon.
I took off toward Lee Street at a dead sprint. As soon as I came level with the street, I hurdled the jersey wall and crossed the empty four-lane road. I clambered over the jersey wall on the other side of Pioneer Way, cutting through the parking lot in front of Iron Horse Inn.
Cornelius was in my sights now. His sword fight had ended, but he was still hanging out next to the snow-covered lawn by the Adams Museum, bending down to tie his shoe from the looks of it.
I couldn’t hear the Nachzehrer over the steam train of my own breath, but I saw it slinking in the shadows underneath the old railroad station. It appeared to have zeroed in on Cornelius, which would explain why it was still oblivious to my presence. That or the fact that I’d chopped off its tongue, which it might use to help sniff me out.
The creature moved out of the shadows for a split second as it loped toward a panel van parked near the back of the museum, giving me a clear view of it for the first time.
I didn’t like what I saw. At all.
This one was noticeably bigger than the last two. Far more hulking, too. Christ, it must have been a defensive lineman when it was a human.
The Nachzehrer slipped into the shadows on the other side of the van, where it was probably waiting for Cornelius to come into view.
I had five seconds to intervene. Maybe less.
“Cornelius!” I yelled, racing full bore at him across Deadwood Street.
He stopped in the midst of another twirl and looked my way. His eyes widened. His jaw dropped. He stared at me as if I were a stark-raving mad zombie bearing down on him with an ax.
Crud. I hadn’t thought that part through.
“Run!” I pointed my ax at the van the Nachzehrer was hiding behind.
At the sight of me, the creature crept into view. It tipped its head up and let out a hair-raising yowl.
Cornelius jumped in surprise, turning toward the Nachzehrer. Instead of backing away from the creature, he stumbled toward it.
What the hell was he thinking? I pushed my legs faster, harder.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the Nachzehrer leap into the air, reaching those long gangly arms out to snare Cornelius.
I dove head-long toward the polka king and slammed into him at chest level, knocking him into the snow-covered grass. The creature flew over us, its fingers almost snagging my dress. It tumbled across the road, coming to a stop in the gutter.
I pushed up onto my hands, frowning down at Cornelius. The polka music continued to emanate from his coat pocket, slightly muted by the snowbank below us.
He blinked up at me and then patted my head like I was a good dog. “Heel, Violet. You’re a tad terrifying tonight.”
“I aim to thrill.” I scrambled up off the snow and grabbed him by the front of the coat, yanking him upright. “Get behind me.”
The Nachzehrer was on its feet already, lurching toward us across the brick street.
“Do you see that?” I asked Cornelius.
He scoffed. “How could I not?”
“It’s another Nachzehrer. I have to kill it by severing its head before anyone else sees it.” Or sees me holding an ax, the sight of which would take “Spooky Parker” to a whole new level.
Cornelius reached down beside me and grabbed his cane from the snow, tapping it twice on the salt- and slush-covered sidewalk. “So, we’re partaking in gladiatorial combat tonight, then?”
“Something like that.”
“Brilliant. And are you experiencing the urge to eat my brains?”
“What? No. Why would I—” Oh, right. My costume. “Maybe later. One pain in the ass at a time.”
The Nachzehrer charged on all fours, hurtling at us like a four-legged spider with sharp, gnashing teeth.
I shoved Cornelius out of the way. “Stay back!”
I gripped the
ax, but before I could brace for impact, it was on me with its foul breath and snapping jaws. I swung the ax, but it dodged my blow. The creature leaned into me, sending me stumbling backward on the sidewalk. I hit a patch of slush and slipped, falling on my back in the snow.
The son of a bitch pounced, pinning my legs under it, leaning over me. Its jaws descended toward my face. I reached up and gripped its neck with my free hand, pushing it away while trying to wiggle free. The skin under my hand was loose and slippery, like a sheet of pliant rubber.
“Get off!” I bucked my hips, but it was too heavy. I sank deeper into the snow.
I managed another swing, but the ax blade glanced off its shoulder.
It raised its head up to the stars and started to howl.
A cane swung into view before it managed more than a note and whacked it upside the head. Something cracked. The Nachzehrer swayed to the side, its eyes rolling lazily, unable to focus.
That was the break I needed. I shoved upward again, knocking it off balance. It tipped sideways, but the thing was too damned heavy. I let go of its neck and gripped the ax with both hands, swinging with all of the strength I could muster while half-pinned to the ground.
The blade sank into the crook of its neck.
The Nachzehrer let out a shriek of pain, spraying my face with spittle.
“Gah!” I yelled, cringing, trying again to buck it off.
It bobbed sideways, almost keeling over.
But then it leaned back my way, opened its mouth, and spewed green, vile goop down the front of my dress.
“Noooo!” I looked down in horror. “You douchebag!”
I gagged on the rancid fumes of decay surrounding me.
Cornelius came up behind it, grabbing it by the shoulders and hauling it off of me. The Nachzehrer fell onto its back on the sidewalk, its arms and legs paddling in the air like an upside-down beetle.
I staggered to my feet and then leaned over, hands on my knees, dry heaving. After a few deep breaths, I wiped the snot from my nose and glared down at it. “You parasitic jackass.”