Sylvie glanced around at Mitzi curled up on the back seat. “Nice to meet you, Mitzi.”
In the rearview I saw Mitzi lift her eyes warily.
“I’m sure you’re very pretty somewhere under that cake of mud.”
Mitzi allowed a single wag of her tail. “She’s cute, Ed. I like her.”
“Well, don’t.”
Sylvie turned back to me. “Pardon me?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. Talking to myself.”
“I noticed. You do that a lot. Does Lonnie know?”
“That I talk to myself?”
“That you’re borrowing his truck.”
I smiled to myself. “Lonnie’s not in any condition to know anything.”
I caught her smile from the corner of my eye.
“Does he know you’re borrowing me?”
“I doubt it.”
“Why are you? Borrowing me?”
“Just long enough to get to the nearest precinct.”
Sylvie laughed lightly, turned and began opening her purse.
I glanced in the rearview, saw Mitzi rise on her haunches, tensing.
“I don’t think so, Ed,” from a confident Sylvie.
“You don’t, huh.”
She was digging unhurriedly through the purse. Coolly. The way she did everything. Like no matter how out of control the rest of the world was, slinky little Sylvie always had it together.
“No, Ed. And I’m a very perceptive woman.”
“I imagine that helps when you’re stealing wallets. When did you get mine, by the way? Oh, of course. The kiss. What’s makes you think I won’t turn you in?”
“My, you’ve been busy in my absence,” Mitzi put in. “Slept with her yet?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I told her. And to Sylvie: “You’re a thief.”
“Look who’s talking. You gave up that fancy new Lexus for this heap? There’s a hundred thousand miles on this truck, Eddie. Besides, I knew you were on the run the second I spotted you.”
“And how’d you deduce that?”
“Perceptive, like I said. Who is it, local cops or something bigger?”
She brought something out of the purse. In the rearview Mitzi appraised it quickly, then settle down again in the back seat.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“A wax finger. Hollow. With a striking strip under the nail.”
She held it up to give me a good look.
“It’s how I did the lit cigarette trick in the restaurant. Did you think I was a real witch, Ed?”
I took the fake finger from her, looked it over, handed it back. “You slipped it on when you reached for the cigarette.”
“That’s right, very good. Pretty perceptive yourself.”
“Not so perceptive I can’t be distracted out of my wallet.”
She smiled. “It’s a living. The magic stuff I do at Lonnie’s dealer table when he’s pushing plastic fangs and Elvira wigs. It’s mostly a front. The real money is in on the floor, moving through the crowded aisles.”
“On your coffee break.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Just men’s wallets?”
“Mostly. Guys in masks only. Full length costumes are a lot harder than coat jackets.”
“I can imagine. Meanwhile that costume of yours provides the real distraction.”
She glanced down at herself. “Not so real, actually. Plastic, like the fangs.”
“But cleavage by any other name, right? Lonnie teach you to pickpocket?”
“I taught Lonnie. Picked his own pocket.”
“But got caught.”
“I was tired.”
“Took it out in trade, did you?”
She gave me a quick, severe look. “I’m a thief, not a tramp.”
“Yipe. Sorry.”
She snorted, gathered herself in the seat. “I worked off what I’d lifted from him that first night, then stuck around with him on the convention circuits when I saw what a good play it was. The whole Elvira thing was his idea. Some nights he moves as many black wigs and plunging necklines as I collect wallets.”
“A symbiotic relationship.”
“A platonic one. Or was. How’d you learn to fight like that, anyway?”
I jerked my head to her. “You watched?”
“Very impressive. Bob and weave, use your opponent’s weight against him. Like an animal. A dog. Like your poodle there in back. She teach you that?”
I glanced at the rearview. “Did you?”
Mitzi was yawning back there. “I’m very full, Eddie, and very tired. And I stink. Wake me at the first Holiday Inn, huh?”
She stretched out, closed her eyes, head between her paws. I couldn’t repress a smile just seeing her like that again. Breathing again.
“Really got a thing for that pooch, huh?” Sylvie said. “You’re not into bestiality, are you, Ed?”
“Why? You trying to seduce me? In exchange for my wallet?”
She shot me a dirty look. Then turned and smiled out at the traffic. “You’ll know when I’m trying to seduce you, Ed, trust me.”
“Trust you?”
She shrugged.
“Why didn’t you take off when you saw I was winning the fight?”
“I was waiting for you.”
“Uh-huh, right.”
“I told you I’d been thinking about you.”
“Yeah. And will you still be thinking about me when Lonnie catches up to us?”
She snorted a laugh. “Lonnie’s a three time loser who won’t be coming after anyone. He’ll be lucky to get out of that restaurant before the cops show. We’ll be lucky to get out of town before the cops show. The only reason the Denny’s manager didn’t call-in the cavalry was he was so dazzled by your footwork. That little blonde certainly was. Surprised you didn’t hit on that. Got a girlfriend somewhere, Ed?”
“Earlier, outside the hotel, you said something about getting back to Chicago. Or was that part of your act?”
“No, I’m from the Windy City. Why?”
“Suppose we do make a trade. You give me back my wallet and I take you back to Chicago.”
“How come?”
“How come what?”
“You’re not from Chicago.”
“How do you know?”
“I know everyone in Chicago, Ed. Everyone worth knowing.”
“Big town.”
“I get around. That where your girlfriend lives?”
I waited for Mitzi to say something in my head but apparently she was asleep.
“I’m looking for a man.”
“Who?”
“I doubt you’d know him.”
When she didn’t answer for a moment I turned to her. “What--?”
She had that sly smile on again. “You don’t want your wallet, you want an escort. A front.”
I thought about it a second. “You’re right, this is stupid. I’ll drop you off where ever you like.”
“Whoa! I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. What are you paying for this escort thing?”
“You’re the one with my wallet.”
I could tell she was thinking about it. “This guy you’re looking for, what kind of man are we talking about?”
“What do you mean?”
She shrugged. “Day time guy or night time guy?”
“Night time.”
“In the rackets?”
I stared ahead at the road. We were in the suburbs somewhere now.
“Can’t help you, Ed, unless you trust me. At least a little.”
She reached into her purse and tossed my wallet in my lap.
I slid it inside my jacket lining.
“Thanks.”
“For what?”
“Not checking on the money. It’s all there. So. What’s this guy’s name?”
“Kolcheck.”
She knitted those pretty brows, chewed on it a moment. “Kolcheck what?”
“Ivan Kolcheck.”
She finally nodded. �
��I know him.”
I turned my head so fast it sent a lance up my neck. “You know--are you sure?”
“A lot of people know Ivan Kolcheck. Well known people, people with money. What’s your business with him?”
What was I doing? She wouldn’t believe a word of this! “I…owe him some money.”
She stiffened. “You owe Ivan Kolcheck money?”
I shrugged. “I…stole some from him.”
She stared at me quietly a moment. “No you didn’t.”
“How do you—“
“Because I do. You’re a nice guy that’s gotten himself into some trouble. But Kolcheck’s not a nice guy, and not a guy you want trouble with. You owe him something, fine. I’ll help you get someone to get it to him. But stay away from Kolcheck, Ed.”
“Why would you do that, Sylvie? Help me?”
She looked back at the road. “Whore with a heart of gold, can’t you tell?”
“No,” I said, “I can’t.”
She gave me a searching look. Then she nodded at the windshield. “Take the next right and turn around.”
“Why?”
“Because we’re in the burbs. You want to visit Overland Park or you want to get to Chicago?”
I took the next right.
We merged with mid-morning traffic.
“Stay on this until you reach I-35.”
When I looked over again, Sylvie’s head was back against the seat rest, eyes closed.
“You’ve been at it all night,” I said, “you need sleep.”
“So do you.”
“When we get to the highway, maybe we should pull over at the first rest stop,” I said.
“Maybe we should pull into the first motel instead.”
I nodded. “To seduce me? See if you can talk me out of my wallet again?”
She sighed softly beside me. “See if I can talk you out of Chicago.”
FOUR
…so it’s dark outside, meaning it has to be nighttime, right, though I can’t imagine how it came so quickly, seems like I was just in the truck, Sylvie asleep against my shoulder, Mitzi snoring softly in the back seat.
But then, I also can’t imagine what I’m doing out here in the middle of the night in the middle of these woods, walking around barefoot in my T-Shirt and pajama bottoms. Over the damp, dew-flecked loam, between towering trunks of Oak and Maple, a full moon riding a skein of fleecy clouds above.
Sylvie beside me, holding my hand.
“What’s the matter?” she smiles up sweetly, “are you afraid?”
“Not exactly. Don’t you think it’s a little damp out here though? I mean, barefoot and all, wearing only that flimsy nightie?”
“I thought you’d like the nightie.”
“Oh, the nightie’s swell! Very…short. You have nice legs.”
“Thank-you.”
“Except…”
“Except what?”
“Why the Elvira wig? I thought you got rid of that.”
“I thought you’d like the Elvira wig. Thought you were a fan of hers. Most men are.”
“Elvira’s fine. Cassandra Peterson’s fine for that matter, but you’re fine too, Sylvie, you don’t need the wig.”
“No? Most men like the fantasy.”
I shake my head. “You’re enough fantasy for any man, Sylvie, trust me.”
“I do. You’re a very nice man, Ed. A good man. I knew straight away we’d be friends.”
“You won’t mind then, if I ask where it is we’re going out here in the woods? In the dark?”
“I think the problem is you don’t quite trust me. You’re shivering.”
“It’s cold.”
“That isn’t it. Always tell the truth, Ed, and the truth will be given in return.”
“Can I be frank?”
“Always.”
“Nothing personal, Sylvie, but I’m getting a strong vampire vibe off you. You didn’t bring me out here in the dew to bite me on the neck by any chance?”
“Oh, dear. And I thought the illusion was perfect. I must be losing my touch,” her voice going several, more resonant octaves lower.
“Because I’d just as soon you waited until after Chicago before that.”
“Chicago…yes…”
Voice lower still, and when she doesn’t continue after a while I turn to her and find myself holding the hand of The Count.
“Count!”
“How good to see you again, dear boy! I do hope the feeling is mutual!”
I look up and down his black tuxedo, gold chest amulet, narrow wings of graying temples and aged but thoroughly aristocratic features. He’s smiling warmly in moonlight, broad enough to expose his fangs. I let go of his hand.
Step back, clearing my throat a bit. “Of course it’s mutual! Just…a little unsuspected!”
“My apologies, Edward. I tried to soften it in the guise of Miss Sylvia.”
I look around us. “Where exactly are we, Count?”
He tosses a long fingered, sharp-nailed hand in the air. “Well, I could tell you it’s the Black Forest—one of my favorite places on earth, always feel at home there. I probably did give some of the bigger trees that appearance.”
“But--?”
“But in reality I’m afraid it’s only some dull Midwestern woods behind your motel. Not that I’ve anything against the Midwest! Good people! Salt of the Earth!”
I was still craning around us suspiciously. “Uh…and Sylvie went where?”
“Still back at the motel, my boy, sound asleep. That delightful poodle as well.”
“I see.”
“Do you? Excellent! Knew straight away you were a sharp lad!”
I tightened the draw string on my pajamas. “So…this is a kind of dream, that it?”
“If you like,” the Count smiled. “But Miss Sylvia is very real, Edward. As real as your beloved Clancy.”
“I know.”
“She’s a good person too. I shouldn’t like it if any harm came to Sylvia.”
“Me too. I mean, me either.”
He shakes a stern talon at me. “But you don’t quite trust her, my boy. And I am here to tell you that you may. And also that she’s quite smitten with you.”
“Is she?”
“I think you know she is, Edward. And I expect you to be a gentleman about it!”
“Of course!”
The big clawed hand rests warmly on my shoulder a moment. “Good lad! Knew straight away I could trust you! Now then, about Chicago…”
“I’m going, Count. Going to get Clancy back.”
He gives my arm a fatherly pat. “Wouldn’t try to talk you out of it, Edward! But you’re aware of his strengths, you’ve seen his powers. Miss Sylvia has not. Oh, she knows that dangers lurk there, and like all women, she’s attracted to them—blinded by them—but it’s the depths of his depravity she’s unfamiliar with.”
“I’ll watch out for her.”
“And for Clancy, I know. And I’ll be close, ever near, guiding when I can. But there’s a limit to my powers around Ivan Kolcheck, Edward. A rather strict limit, at least, for now.”
“Limit?”
“Tread softly, my boy, and under no circumstances underestimate him!”
I nod, even as The Count begins to fade…
“Wait! What about—“
But he’s growing rapidly dimmer. “All in good time, my boy!”
In a moment there are only the glowing eyes…the glimmering fangs…
“You’re him, aren’t you?” I whisper, “you’re the real Count Dracula.”
The fangs gleam brighter a moment.
“But, Count, why would someone like you fear Ivan?”
And the fangs wink out.
Leaving the forest cold against my shoulders, my wet feet.
* * *
“—Ed? Ed Magee! Hey!”
My lids fell back heavily and I looked up into Sylvie’s dark olive eyes.
I remembered the motel room around me immediate
ly.
But I’d momentarily forgotten about the couch. My back reminded me.
I winced, blinking matter from my eyes. The room was dark but for a slice of exterior orange neon, blinking. It gave Sylvie’s already warm glow a warmer one.
I started up suddenly, heart thumping (out of pure reflex these days). “Sylvie! Is everything okay?”
She caught my shoulder. “Fine.” She pushed be back on the hard couch gently. “You were talking in your sleep.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
She smiled, teeth aglow…like the Count’s had glowed outside. “It’s okay. You sounded a little frantic. Thought it might be a nightmare so I took the liberty of waking you.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
“Who’s ‘The Count’?”
I pushed up on one arm suddenly, threw back the light blanket covering me, looked down. T-Shirt and pajama bottoms. And my feet felt damp. I started to reach for them…thought better of it. I sat up and frowned at the pajamas.
“The motel gift shop.” Sylvie said. “You bought them when we checked in.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Who’s The Count, Ed?”
I ran a hand through my hair. “Uh…nobody.”
“Must be somebody, the way you were warbling.”
I looked up at her. She was a pale vision, nearly ghostly; bare white legs, white T-Shirt, luminous skin. “It was…Count Basie. We were dancing.”
Her brows went up. “You and me?”
I nodded.
“That’s sweet.”
“It was sweet.”
“You’re a nice man, Ed Magee.”
Her breasts hung heavily under the thin T-Shirt.
“I wish people would stop saying that. I’m not always so nice.”
She grinned, combed a curl from my forehead with long fingers. “No one is.”
She reached down and dented the couch with the heel of her hand. “God, this thing’s hard as a rock!”
“It’s not so bad.”
“Uh-huh. Come on…”
“Where we going?”
“To my bed.”
I looked over at its dim bulk in the dark. It looked achingly inviting.
But I demurred. “No…really, this is fine.”
“It’s an ironing board. Come sleep with me.”
“No, no…I’ll be fine here.”
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