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

by CK Dawn

  The fire of anger was slowly fading from his eyes. “I see what you mean, but—“

  She waited biting her tongue, chewing on a sudden nugget of wisdom. He would not embrace the plan until he could claim it as his own. She sat back and waited for him to arrive at his own inevitable conclusion.

  Bill returned the knife to his pocket and looked down at the duffel bag. “We’d have to be ready for them.”

  Phoebe kept silent.

  Bill nodded his head. “He’ll be walking into a trap. You’re right. He doesn’t know that things have changed. Even Catherine doesn’t know what you’ve been doing, and she doesn’t know that I’m here. We can set up a perimeter of holy water and garlic; that should take care of the weaker ones, and we can tackle the baron with everything we have. It could work.”

  Phoebe rose to her feet. “It has to work. We have no more time.”

  “There’ll be blood,” Bill said.

  “I know.”

  “When are they coming?”

  Phoebe was distracted by the thought of blood. They couldn’t use the Atrium’s fire axe to dismember the baron because the alarm would sound and the fire company would barge in on them. Tomorrow Bill would have to buy an axe at the hardware store. The axe was his problem, but her problem would be cleaning the blood from the white wool carpets. Perhaps vampire blood would vanish all by itself along with the vampire. She hoped that was the case.

  He was asking her again. “When are they coming?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You don't know. You gave him the key and you don't know when he's coming?”

  “No, I don’t know. I was talking to Wally but you kept pounding on the door.”

  “I wasn't pounding.”

  “It sounded like pounding. It was very distracting. Wally had to leave because he can’t lie to the baron, so he can’t know anything of our plans or he would spill the beans. So we never did actually decide when… I’m sure it will be soon.”

  “How soon?”

  What had Wally told her? One part of her brain was thinking about blood on the carpets, another part was occupied with the memory of Bill sitting so close to her on the sofa and the warmth of his thigh pressed against her. Only a small part of her mind remained to remember her conversation with Wally.

  Bill repeated his question, “How soon, Phoebe?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not sure. A couple of days, maybe.”

  “A couple of days.”

  Bill began to prowl around the apartment like a caged tiger. “We’ll have to establish our defenses. We may need more holy water. Maybe more garlic.” He looked at Phoebe and shook his head. “I wish you’d talked to me before you talked to Wally.”

  Phoebe straightened her shoulders. “I’m not used to talking to people. I’ve been making my own decision for years. I’ve been on my own for a long time.”

  Bill came toward her. “You shouldn’t be on your own. That’s what I thought the first time I saw you. I thought you were a woman who shouldn’t be on her own.”

  He was now standing very close. She didn’t have to flutter her eyelashes, she didn’t have to sigh, or compliment him on his muscles. All she had to do was look into his eyes.

  “I don’t want to be alone.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I know.”

  Nine

  WALLY

  Wally observed that the Uber driver was a family man. The rear window of his vehicle displayed stick figures of his three children, along with a stick dog and a stick cat. One of the stick children was apparently an honor student, and another played hockey, while the third played some sport that Wally could not identify. The Uber driver’s wife was proud to announce that she “stopped for garage sales”. Someone in the family was still supporting a candidate for an election long since over, and the vehicle had once made a visit to Disney World; the sticker was still on the side window.

  Wally, holding the door open for the Baron and Miss Catherine, wished that the driver had not revealed so much about himself. The man had not actually said a word out loud about his family or his politics, or his vacation destination, but Wally already knew more than he wanted to know. The driver was no longer anonymous. Three children, a wife, and a dog and cat would grieve if something happened to him. He knew that the baron would not harm the driver, not tonight of all nights, and neither would Miss Catherine; they would expect to get their blood from Miss Phoebe, but Ted was still thirsting for human blood and would not hesitate to take on the Uber driver.

  The driver stood ready to open the door for his customers. Wally, first out of the gate, saw the man’s eyes widen in surprise as the baron and Miss Catherine came into view. Baron Raoul deBressard wore formal evening wear, white tie and tails, and a long cloak lined in red satin. Miss Catherine was dressed in a long white evening gown, her hands were encased in white gloves, and her hair was caught up in a tiara that glistened in the muted light of the street lamps. Ted skulked along behind. A shabby overcoat covered his ripped uniform, his feet were bare, and his eyes still glowed with the red of blood lust. In time the redness would fade and his eyes would become dull and lackluster and then he would be satisfied with mice and rats and lower orders of mammals. Wally wanted to feel some sympathy for the boy as he went through the painful transition, but Ted was not someone who invited sympathy.

  The baron swept past Wally and handed Miss Catherine into the vehicle.

  “The boy will ride on the roof,” he said, indicating Ted with a wave of his pale hand.

  The driver shook his head. “I can’t put him on the roof.”

  The baron leaned in. “Yes you can.”

  The driver found that he could.

  Ted clambered up onto the luggage rack where he perched like a gargoyle.

  “Wally will ride in the front seat,” deBressard declared. “He will tell you where to go.”

  The driver spoke tentatively. “I have GPS. I can find the place.”

  “I am sure you can,” the baron replied in his deep, slightly accented voice, “but Wally will guide us by scent. He will follow the smell of fear.”

  Wally closed the door and went to sit in the front passenger seat. He saw the driver lift his hand to adjust the mirror. He spoke to him in a whisper. “Don’t do that, mate. Don’t look at him.”

  The driver’s eyes slid sideways to look at Wally. “Who is he?”

  “You don’t need to know. Just drive.”

  “What are we waiting for?” When the baron spoke it seemed that the temperature in the vehicle dropped by several degrees. “Get on with it. Go.”

  The driver pulled away from the curb and Wally saw Tabita spring from the bushes and run along the road to a waiting vehicle. It seemed that they were to have company on their visit to Miss Phoebe.

  The journey was over very quickly; traffic was light, and very few people were out and about. The driver was pushing his vehicle well beyond the speed limit and gripping the steering wheel with clenched white knuckles.

  “Take it easy, mate,” Wally whispered, but the driver ignored him and jammed his foot down on the accelerator.

  Wally sympathized with him. No doubt he was thinking of his three children and his wife who liked to go to garage sales and wishing that he was home with them instead of driving through the city with a gargoyle on his roof, a sinister European in the back seat, and Wally who was unable to control an explosion of unpleasant odors. Supper had been a slimy thing, barely alive, and he had gagged as he drank the blood of its sordid death.

  The SUV with its air of middle-class family values screeched to a halt beneath the Atrium’s porte cochere. Ted leaped down from the roof and opened the door for the baron and his future bride to descend from their vehicle. Wally thought he saw movement in the thick bushes that grew beside the driveway and a glimpse of a face, dark skin and bright eyes in the light pouring from the lobby. The driver distracted him with a terrified whisper.

  “I don’t want to be paid. I just wa
nt to go.”

  “Wise decision,” Wally said. “Get out of here as fast as you can.”

  He saw the movement again as he climbed out of the vehicle. The Uber driver pulled away from the curb even as Wally was closing the door and by the time he joined the baron on the sidewalk the family van was already out of sight.

  “I could have had him,” Ted muttered.

  The baron flicked a casual hand across Ted’s face, his fingernails raking two long scratches and raising blood. “You will eat when I tell you to eat.”

  “But will it be human?” Ted asked.

  The baron smiled a cold, thin-lipped smile. “We shall all have human blood tonight, isn’t that so, Wally?”

  Wally would not look at his master. “I don’t want no human blood, thank you.”

  The baron indicated the plate glass front door. “Open it.”

  Miss Phoebe’s key turned easily in the lock and Wally ushered his companions through the doorway. Permission to enter and to invite others of his species to enter had been given only to him. Without his invitation even the baron would have to remain outside. Wally held the door open until they were all inside. He thought of the face he had glimpsed in the bushes, the way the skin had glowed, the brightness in her eyes. Perhaps she did not need an invitation, but she would still need an open door. The baron was already crossing to the elevator; Wally thumbed the latch on the door and saw that it closed without locking.

  The baron turned his head impatiently. “What are you doing?”

  Catherine, who had been silent on the journey, suddenly pulled away from the baron’s guiding arm. She stared at her surroundings and Wally detected a hint of life in her drugged eyes.

  “Why are we here?”

  The baron renewed his grip on her arm. “We’ve come to see your sister. This is the moment you’ve been waiting for.”

  She hung back reluctantly as the baron led her toward the elevator. Ted pressed the call button and the elevator doors opened to reveal its mirrored interior. Catherine uttered a small surprised squeak as she saw her own reflection.

  “Why am I wearing this dress?”

  The baron ignored the question and pulled her inside the elevator.

  As they rode the six floors up to the penthouse Wally began to feel uneasy. He should be feeling something by now. If Miss Phoebe had set up her perimeter he should be able to sense it. The baron was too strong and too powerful to be affected at this distance, but Wally should feel it and so should Ted. Ted, leaning against the back wall and watching the floor numbers change, obviously felt nothing.

  The elevator came to rest at the sixth floor. The doors opened and they stepped out onto the interior balcony. Wally glanced over the railing and saw movement far below. Someone else had entered the building. Tabita? He fought the urge to be obedient in all things and tell the baron that they were not alone. Fortunately the baron was occupied with Catherine who was trying again to break the baron’s grip.

  The baron fixed Catherine with his dark eyes and spoke angrily. “Hurry. We must do this before my bride is fully awake.”

  Wally hesitated. Surely he should feel something by now. Miss Phoebe had said that she would be ready, but if she was ready why couldn’t he sense her defenses? He sniffed the air and detected a trace of garlic. His knees weakened as the baron hurried them toward the front door of the apartment. She had some defensive items in there but not enough to disturb the baron. A barrier strong enough to hold the baron should have rendered Wally and Ted immobile.

  The baron’s willpower washed over him. “Open the door.”

  The key was in his hand. It slid easily into the lock. He turned the door handle and the door swung open revealing the small entryway. He saw a light in the living room and heard voices.

  The baron released Catherine’s hand and it was Catherine who led the way into the living room.

  Wally took one look at Miss Phoebe and the man named Bill and knew that she wasn’t ready.

  Ten

  PHOEBE

  She had never talked like this before. Even though Catherine called herself a priest, Phoebe had never thought to confess to her, but talking to Bill was easy. She sat beside him on the sofa, safe in the comfort of his arm, and told him of the dreadful thing she had done; how she had lied and how that lie had destroyed her life.

  “He left me after ten years of marriage,” she said. “He traded me in for a newer model and not a word of warning. One day I came home from a photoshoot and the papers were on the kitchen table. He had everything ready. No fault divorce and a penthouse apartment for me to live in.”

  “Must have cost him a few bucks,” Bill said.

  “I’m sure it did. He was willing to pay any price to get rid of me.”

  Bill wisely said nothing. He had said very little since he had surprised her with a determined kiss. All she wanted to do now was to keep on kissing him, but first she had to tell him what had really happened. He had to know the truth. If he still wanted to kiss her after he had discovered the depths of her lying and deceit, then she would be happy to be kissed.

  “I was angry,” Phoebe said. “I wanted to hurt him. I didn’t want him to have everything his own way.”

  “Of course.”

  “He took control of everything. He even moved the furniture into here without waiting for me to tell him what I wanted. He just went ahead and did it, like I was no one.”

  “He sounds like a bully.”

  Phoebe paused for a moment. This was the moment when she had to tell the truth.

  “We argued on the day I was to sign the papers. He told me his girlfriend was pregnant. He wanted to marry her before the baby was born. I was angry, mad at myself because I never wanted to have children. I wanted to hit him. He was holding me off, making me look like a fool, so I just turned around and threw myself down the stairs.”

  Bill made a low grunt of surprise.

  “Yes, I did it to myself. I threw myself down the stairs and broke my leg, but I said that he did it. I told him I was going to sue him. He was so anxious to get rid of me he gave me everything I wanted, even an American Express card. He said I could have it all until I was on my feet.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. I could have been on my feet years ago, but I didn’t even try. I didn’t go to rehab. I didn’t do strengthening exercises. I came here to this apartment and did nothing. My leg should have healed years ago but I refused to walk on it, and now it won’t heal. Everything you see here, Bill, is my own fault. I did it all to spite my ex. I am exactly what Wally called me, a fat, lazy, hypochondriac.”

  Bill’s arm tightened around her. “No you’re not.”

  “Yes, I am.” She turned to bury her face against his shoulder but she felt his body stiffen.

  “What is it?”

  “Shhh. Someone’s at the door.”

  Phoebe lifted her head. “They can’t come in. I didn’t invite them.”

  “Yes you did. That’s exactly what you did.”

  A familiar voice called to her from the entryway. “Miss Phoebe. We’re here.”

  Shadowy forms moved in the doorway of the living room. She heard Bill’s harsh intake of breath. He leaned forward and pulled the black duffel bag toward him. Phoebe looked at the newcomers. The baron was a tall, elegant figure in white tie and tails, topped with a full-length cloak. His pale face was long and narrow, his black hair was smoothed back from a high forehead, and his eyes were dark pools of nothingness. Catherine was beside him in a long white gown. Her blonde hair had faded to ash, her face was pale and almost bloodless, only her eyes were alive and they roamed the room seemingly without comprehension.

  Wally bowed to the baron.

  “This way your lordship. She’s ready for you.”

  Phoebe glared at Wally. “What are you doing? I’m not ready. Why did you bring them so soon?”

  “I had to Miss Phoebe. You said you’d be ready.”

  “Well, I’m not.”

 
She heard Bill moving behind her and the sound of him opening the zipper on the duffel bag. She needed time. She stood her ground and stared at the cadaverous figure of the baron.

  “So you’re the baron.”

  The baron gave a mocking bow. “Baron Raoul deBressard.”

  She let her gaze slide across to Catherine who seemed to be in some kind of trance.

  “Catherine!”

  Catherine’s expression remained puzzled as she looked at Phoebe.

  “So,” Phoebe said, “this is the baron. I have to say he’s not very good looking. Pasty complexion. I don’t understand what you see in him.”

  Catherine’s voice had a slight crack to it, as though she had not spoken in a long while. “Phoebe? What are you—“

  Her eyes moved toward the baron.

  “Don’t look at him, Catherine.”

  “But I have to.”

  The baron recaptured Catherine’s attention.

  “Remember what you have to do,” he murmured. “If you are to be my wife, you must rid us of your sister. She’s a plump one, isn’t she? Should be plenty of blood to go around.”

  Phoebe raised her fingers and made a cross. She heard a gasp from the doorway and saw that the baron had brought Ted with him and it was Ted who was responding to her raised fingers by slumping against the wall.

  She held her fingers higher. The baron laughed.

  “Put your fingers down, Phoebe. Do you think you can hurt me with your fingers?”

  She turned her back on the baron and looked at Bill. He had emptied the duffle bag on the floor and was scrabbling through its contents. He looked past her to Wally who had slumped into an armchair.

  “Hey you, kid, come and help me.”