Fire and Fantasy: A Limited Edition Collection of Urban and Epic Fantasy

by CK Dawn

  He climbed the wall, agile as a monkey, and landed on the penthouse balcony. The drapes were open slightly and he could see into the apartment. He paused with his hand raised to knock on the window. Miss Phoebe was not alone. A big man in a green uniform was on his hands and knees in the middle of the floor assembling a mass of pipes and plastic pieces while Miss Phoebe stood over him dressed in a remarkable pink sequined outfit that was somewhat athletic in nature.

  The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of reading glasses. As he turned to look at the assortment of boxes that lay at his feet, Wally recognized him. He was Bill, the driver of the van that had delivered Wally’s box into Miss Phoebe’s keeping, and he seemed to have delivered a great many boxes. They were strewn all around the apartment. Wally had expected to see a mess of chocolate boxes, candy wrappers, containers from the Golden Pagoda, and Miss Phoebe in a negligee and a teased wig. What he saw now was a new reality; books on the coffee table, cardboard boxes strewn around the room, Miss Phoebe with only a modest wig, and Bill the delivery man looking quite at home man with his jacket off and his reading glasses perched on the end of his nose. And, wonder of wonders, Miss Phoebe wearing her own glasses.

  He pressed his ear to the window and could hear every word, although hearing was hardly believing. Phoebe was reading from an instruction manual and Bill was picking up pieces of whatever they were building and attempting to put them together.”

  “Attach Part A to Section C, subsection 2, using lynch pin 4Y, making two complete turns,” Phoebe said.

  Bill slotted several pieces of metal together but the look on his face made Wally think that he was not following the written instructions. He was a big man with a pleasant face but he was scowling as he bent down and sorted through the boxes.

  Phoebe continued to read. “Attach spindle B to sub spindle assembly XY using wing nut 27A.”

  Bill snatched the pamphlet from her hand. He looked angry. Was he going to hurt her?

  Wally wondered if he should pound on the window and let the bully know that Miss Phoebe had a friend outside the window; a friend who would not let Bill hurt her.

  Bill crumpled the instruction manual into a ball. “Don’t worry about reading any more of that nonsense,” he said. ” Hey, it's a bicycle, that's all it is. A bicycle. Wheel, handlebars, seat. It don't need no Chinese rocket scientist to put it together.”

  He moved quickly and efficiently and Wally could see an exercise bicycle taking shape under the driver’s thick, efficient hands. Miss Phoebe watched him admiringly from beneath her mascaraed eyelashes and Wally stood in silent wonder outside the window until the machine had been completed to Bill’s satisfaction.

  Bill patted the seat; Phoebe fluttered her eyelashes.

  “Well,” said Bill, “that's the best I can do, ma'am. I think it'll be okay now. Hop up on the seat and try it out for size.”

  Miss Phoebe approached the bicycle and carefully lowered her posterior onto the seat. Wally could hardly contain a gasp of surprise. Miss Phoebe sitting on a bicycle seat! He would never have imagined such a thing. She wriggled around, trying to find a comfortable position.

  “Bill, do you think the seat's too high?”

  Bill shook his head. “No ma'am. You gotta put some stretch into it. Gotta get those legs pumping, if you wanna get fit.”

  Miss Phoebe pouted. “Isn’t there any kind of adjustment? This is really hard to push.”Bill picked up the crumpled instruction sheet and smoothed out the pages. “It says here that that we can loosen spring tensioner LL3, with adjustment tool B.”

  He picked a metal tool, approached the bicycle and reached down between Phoebe’s legs.

  Phoebe let out a startled, breathy, gasp of surprise. “Bill, please.”

  Bill blushed. “Sorry, ma’am, I don’t mean to get familiar but —“

  Wally interrupted him silently in his own head. “Yes you do, you mean to get very familiar.”

  “—but that’s where it is,” Bill continued.

  “Where what is?” Phoebe was blushing but not at all put out.

  “The spring tensioner.”

  Phoebe’s eyelids fluttered. “Well, be careful.”

  “Oh, I will.”

  Bill, having completed his adjustments stepped away. Phoebe made another attempt at riding the bicycle.

  “It’s still hard work,” she complained.

  Bill was cheerfully encouraging. “No pain, no gain, ma’am.”

  Phoebe settled herself onto the seat and pedaled a little faster, her face turning red with the effort. Wally was hypnotized by the spectacle. Whatever was she doing?

  “I see you brought the rest of my order,” she panted.

  “Most of it,” Bill replied. “I had to leave a couple of the boxes downstairs; I couldn’t carry them all at once.”

  “So you’re still working on your own. No sign of Ted?”

  Wally flinched. He had to find a way to warn her.

  Bill frowned as Phoebe stopped pedaling. “Keep going, ma’am, keep going. You haven’t done enough yet.”

  “I’m not one of your marine recruits,” Phoebe complained.

  Bill stood a little straighter. “Once a drill instructor, always a drill instructor, and you did ask me to help you.”

  Help her to do what? Wally wondered. What was she trying to accomplish by torturing herself on an exercise bicycle.

  Phoebe made a few more attempts at pedaling. “Are you sure this spring tensioner thing has to be so tight?”

  Bill reached between Phoebe’s legs with far more enthusiasm than Wally thought proper. “You gotta have resistance. Something to push against. Just flapping your legs around won't do you no good.”

  “Could I try something else?” Phoebe asked. “I bought a lot of equipment.”

  Bill looked around at the half opened boxes with his head cocked to one side and a curious expression on his face.

  “You’ve bought a lot of stuff, but —“

  “I certainly did,” Phoebe agreed. “It cost me a small fortune. I called a sporting goods store and ordered just about everything they had, as soon as I decided.”

  “Decided what?” The question was in Wally’s head at the same moment it came out of Bill’s mouth. What had she decided to do?

  “If I wasn’t so afraid to leave this apartment,” Phoebe said, “I’d go to one of those places where you just lie down on a table and the table does all the work for you.”

  So she’s too scared to leave the apartment, Wally thought. He could not decide if that was a good thing or a bad thing. If she never left the apartment, she would be safe for the time being, but eventually she would have to leave, either to rescue her sister, or to get as far away as she possibly could.

  “I only know what we did in the Marines,” Bill was saying. “We didn’t let our recruits lie around on tables. No pain, no gain.”

  Phoebe climbed off the bicycle, wincing a little as she massaged her backside. “What about weight lifting,” she asked. “I bought some little weights.”

  Bill folded his arms and stood back to look at her. “Miss Ellis, if you don't mind me asking you, if you wouldn't think I was being too personal, why do you want to do this? I mean, really, Miss Ellis, you seem just fine the way you are.”

  Phoebe replied with a touch of her former self-confidence. “I've always thought so myself, but there's something I have to do; on my own; a mission.”

  Wally, with his ear pressed to the glass, felt a movement behind him. He turned in time to see Tabita land with the grace of a cat on the railing around the balcony.

  “What’s going on?” she asked. “Is she getting ready to rescue you? Why didn’t you go inside? Didn’t she invite you?”

  “Shut up,” Wally hissed. “She’s up to something and I don’t know what it is. And she has a man in there.”

  Tabita pushed past him and peered through the crack in the curtains. “They’re flirting.”

  “No they’re not,” Wally insisted
.

  Tabita smiled. “I know flirting when I see it, and they’re flirting. Is that Miss Phoebe in that awful pink sweat suit.”

  “Yes, that’s her.”

  “What is she doing with all that equipment?”

  “That’s what I was trying to find out,” Wally hissed, “until you came along and interrupted me.”

  Wally pressed his ear to the glass and was uncomfortably aware of Tabita’s face just inches from his own as they listened to the humans inside. Wally thought that, for a vampire, Tabita had quite pleasant breath, but he wondered what his own breath was like now that he had nowhere to clean his teeth, and not even a toothbrush to do it with.

  Even Wally, who had known very little romantic interaction in his long life, could see that Phoebe was sending very mixed signals to Bill. She was backing away from him, but she was also fluttering her eyelashes and blushing like a young maiden.

  She held out a hand in a stop gesture. “I don't have time for that sort of thing. You are a very nice man, but I can’t be distracted. My life is in very real danger, and I am the only one who can do something about it; and don’t suggest that I go to the police. I know that they won’t listen. It’s all up to me.”

  Wally’s heart, old as it was, beat in double time. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but if she intended to save her own life, she also intended to save his life. How she would do it was another question, but she was going to do it.

  Bill shook his head. “Miss Ellis, I don't know what you're talking about and I don't know what kind of trouble you're in, but if there's anything I can do to help, I'd be very happy to do it.”

  Wally watched as Phoebe considered her next move. Would she tell him? No, surely not.

  “I need to open those boxes of books over there,” Phoebe said abruptly. “Do you have a knife?”

  Bill put his hand in his pocket and produced a very efficient looking Swiss Army knife. He pulled out one of the attachments and set to work on the boxes.

  “She has a computer,” Tabita whispered, “so why does she need all those books?”

  “She’s not very good on the computer,” Wally whispered back. “She won’t wear her glasses.”

  “She’s wearing them now,”

  Wally acknowledged the truth of Tabita’s comment with a silent nod of his head and watched Bill as he pulled books out of the box and set them on the already crowded coffee table. His broad face assumed a suspicion frown.

  “Miss Ellis, these books, they're all like, psychic, supernatural stuff. You're not into anything kinky are you? I meant what I said about helping you, but I don't think I could get involved in anything un-American. Semper fidelis, Miss Ellis. Semper fidelis.

  Phoebe picked out one of the books and clasped it to her more than ample bosom. “These books are not un-American; they are way worse than un-American. These books are unhuman.”

  “I don’t think unhuman is a word,” Tabita muttered in Wally’s ear.

  “Then it should be,” Wally whispered. “That’s what we are; we’re unhuman.”

  “They’re definitely old,” Bill said, looking down at the pile of faded hardcovers and tattered paperbacks. “Are they valuable?” He picked up a book and studied the title.

  “On the Trail of the Vampire.” He selected another. “Vampire Legends of New Orleans.”

  His actions were slow and deliberate, peering through his reading glasses at the titles and replacing the books on the table with a finality that suggested he would never want to pick them up again.

  “They’re all about vampires. I heard what your sister said the day we came to take that big old box. She said that sometimes you, well, lose touch with reality. Perhaps you need to talk to someone. You don’t want to be feeding your fantasies with books like this. Don’t be thinking about vampires, there are no such things and reading this will give you nightmares. You should send these books back. I can take them downstairs for you.”

  Phoebe shook her head vigorously and Wally admired the way her new wig sat so securely on her head. Her old wig would have fallen off under such a vigorous denial. Suddenly she lifted her hand and ran her fingers through her hair. Wonder of wonders, she had done her own hair. She wasn’t wearing a wig.

  “Nightmares,” she exclaimed as she raked her hair out into a wild brown frizzle. “I won’t have nightmares. I have to stay awake. It’s night time when they come out and I have to stay awake and vigilant. I can only sleep in the daytime. As long as the sun's up, I'm pretty much safe.”

  She set down the book she had been holding and glanced across at the window and the gap in the curtains. Wally took hold of Tabita’s arm and pulled her out of the way.

  “Hey, I can’t see.”

  “We can still listen.”

  Miss Phoebe’s voice, trembling slightly, came from somewhere close the window. “It’s dark already.”

  “Been dark for a while,” Bill agreed.

  “I have to lock the patio door.”

  Phoebe appeared as a pink mass in the gap between the drapes. Her hand shook as she tried to turn the lock. Bill’s voice was equally close. “Here, let me do that for you.”

  Wally heard the click of the lock. Someone adjusted the drapes and the view of the apartment disappeared.

  Tabita hissed at him from the corner of the balcony where she was perched like a bird of prey.

  “Someone coming.”

  “They won’t see us up here.”

  “He must have followed us.”

  Wally peered over the balcony. A tall dark form was creeping among the shadows. From six floors up, Wally could smell him. The bloodlust had a tangible texture. It was an entity in its own right and it had its own desires. The lurking shadow was hunting a human.

  The service door on the ground floor opened and Bill’s bulky figure was silhouetted against the light as he pushed his hand truck toward his delivery van.

  There would be no time for Wally to reach the ground and run, he would have to drop down on the hunter from above. He launched himself into the air and touched down on the adjoining balcony. He sensed that Tabita was close behind him. He made no attempt to be silent or even cautious. He had only one thought, to place himself between the hunter and the hunted.

  As he made his next precipitous leap, he saw that Bill had reached the back of his truck and was raising the lift gate. The figure in the bushes made a sound. Bill turned his head. His voice held no fear.

  “Who is it? Come out of there.”

  Bill’s hand snaked into his pocket. Wally remembered Bill’s Swiss Army knife. A knife would not protect him from this hunter. Only Wally could protect him. The hunter moved again and the movement sent a wave of foul odor into the night air. He saw the dawning of recognition on Bill’s face and remembered that Bill had been a soldier. He knew the smell of death and the smell here was strong and unmistakable.

  Bill was crouched defensively with his back to the truck. The hunter emerged from the bushes.

  “Hello, Bill.”

  Ted still wore the remnants of his company overalls. His name badge was still pinned to a ripped pocket, and his face carried the memory of who he had once been, before the growth of fang, and the terrible smearing of blood.

  Bill held the knife in a way that did credit to his training but he had made a fatal mistake; he had looked Ted in the eye. Ted hissed and took another step forward. His eyes had done their work. Bill was unable to move.

  Wally leaped from the balcony to the roof of the truck, misjudged his distance and landed in a sprawl. It was not graceful but it was enough to divert Ted’s attention.

  “Run,” Wally shouted.

  Bill tore himself free of Ted’s hypnotic glare and shifted his grip on the knife.

  “Keep out of it, kid. I’ll take care of this punk.”

  “Leave him. Run inside,” Wally pleaded as he pulled himself to his feet.

  Bill took a measured pace forward toward the hunter. Although his stance was that of a seasoned fighte
r, his voice was not the voice of a killer. He was puzzled, maybe even concerned, for the boy who had been his partner.

  “Ted. What are you doing? What happened?”

  Ted hissed and the sound drove Bill backward gagging at the foul odor of decay. Wally crouched to spring but Tabita was ahead of him dropping from above to crouch between the two combatants. She growled and Wally was reminded that she was, or had been, the daughter of an African king. Now she was a lioness.

  Wally landed on his feet behind Bill and caught at the back of his jacket. “Run. Go inside. Lock the doors.”

  Still Bill hesitated and Wally cursed the training that had made Bill a marine; someone who could not back away from a fight. Wally used all of his strength to turn the stubborn man so that they spoke face to face.

  “Go inside and save Miss Phoebe.”

  Now he saw something; a new light in Bill’s eyes. He had hit on the right thing to say. “Don’t let him reach Miss Phoebe. Leave him to me. Go and save Miss Phoebe. Tell her Wally sent you.”

  Tabita was taunting Ted, leading him away from the service door. Wally gave Bill a decisive push and finally the big man began to move. He pounded across the parking lot and flung the door open. Wally could see that the doorman inside had left his desk and was on his way out to see what was happening. Bill pushed him aside and made for the stairs.

  Wally turned his attention back to Ted.

  Eight

  PHOEBE

  Bill was late. The sun had already set, the sidewalks were quiet, and a chilly mist clung to the window of Phoebe’s penthouse. As she crossed the room to close the drapes she could see herself reflected in the plate glass and, for the first time in years, she was pleased with what she saw. She had initially resisted Bill’s suggestion that she ditch the pink sweatsuit with sequined embellishments and replace it with an olive green number from the Army Surplus store. Now that she was actually wearing the suit along with a camo headband, and white sneakers, she could see that he had been right. With her new brown wig and leather jewelry she looked positively fierce. Phoebe Ellis, vampire hunter.