Blood Stakes

by Upton, Bradley

  During the drive to the church Ken could hardly contain his excitement. He cursed the slow traffic filling the streets. The sun had set by the time he pulled into the parking lot. He turned off the engine and sat for a minute. Common sense restrained him from running inside to tell what he had discovered. He looked in the rearview mirror. Do vampires cast a reflection or was that all wrong? If it was true and he was turned tonight he might never see himself again in a mirror. The thought made his head spin and his breath came in short gasps. Fear clutched him. His dream of immortality might be realized tonight!

  Ken waited until he had calmed down before he got out of the car. He would only tell his secret to the Masters. He pulled open one of the heavy double doors and walked into the empty atrium. He looked around and proceeded into the chapel. The investigation into Greg's murder had wrapped up in the late afternoon. The retainers drove by the church and bypassed it while the police, coroner, and news crews were there. They wouldn't be allowed in the area until after and no retainer wanted to go on the news and answer questions. What if someone slipped up? Revealing the title “Masters” would raise uncomfortable questions. Religion allows scope for nomenclature for members; pope, bishop, father, but Master? Too cult-like.

  After all the personnel from the investigation left, the human retainers had the futile effort to clean up the blood. However pointless it seemed, they did a good job. Only a vague brown stain on the beige carpet could still be seen. Someone found an area rug and placed it over the stain and the desk was moved on top of the rug. Ken found Thomas setting up for the night's sermon in the chapel.

  “Any luck?” Thomas asked.

  “Are we alone?”

  Sensing good news, Thomas glided down from the stage to meet the mortal. He glanced around the room to be certain they were alone. “What did you find?” His voice was a whisper.

  “He’s at the Hawaiian Motel on Desert Inn Road, room 112.” Ken said enjoying the secrecy. He was assured of immortality now.

  Thomas thought for a second and decided on a course of action. “Have you told anyone else where he is?”

  “No. Just you.”

  “Good. Don’t tell anyone else what you know. I’ll inform Malcolm myself.” Thomas continued as his mind raced. “Go home for today. You did very well.”

  Ken slipped away, confident in his knowledge. He had found the priest and he would certainly be rewarded.

  Thomas left the church after completing his tasks. He formulated a plan, the application of which would free him of Malcolm’s threats if successful. Or he could be banished, once again surviving on his own in the world. Malcolm had taught him how to survive better than when he was alone, but the animosity and outright disdain he showed Thomas made his life unpleasant. A vampire’s life should be more fun.

  If his plan failed, he could be killed. Malcolm was in charge. It was his church, his revenue and his ingenious plan which kept them all easily fed. He was a benevolent dictator. He had rules meant to keep the vampires in his care safe. Thomas didn’t like rules. He never had liked rules when he was mortal and hated them more when looking at eternity. He had crossed Malcolm a few times and had seen flashes the leader’s temper which were truly frightening

  The fact John Bryant was a priest made him apprehensive. He chose to stay in town even while he must have suspected he was being hunted. This meant he was a determined man. But determined to do what? Was the incident between Ice and the priest bad luck or had he knowingly sought out creatures supposedly found only in gothic horror stories and Hollywood movies. For the first time since becoming a vampire, Thomas feared something mortal.

  He drove his car through the brightly lit streets, the neon created a kaleidoscopic landscape which still fascinated his unnatural eyes. Many nights were spent driving the streets, marveling at the sight perceived by his heightened senses. Everything he had known as a mortal was now very different, brighter, like a never ending acid trip. Imagine wearing the darkest sun glasses at night then taking them off to reveal a brightness mortals never see. Even the night sky was bright and magnificent like Van Gogh’s Starry Night.

  Thomas turned west down Desert Inn Road from Las Vegas Boulevard and passed from the grand illumination of the Strip to the less impressive smaller hotels and casinos. The Hawaiian motel was a long one story building which had been built twenty or more years ago. It had a sixties feel to the architecture. Paint flaked from the brick and wood of the structure leaving beige stone and bare wood exposed. It was the place someone who didn't want to be found would hide.

  Thomas parked in the mostly empty parking lot. He could see the curtained window and door of room 112. There was no light on in the room. His eyes would have seen lamplight even thru the thin drapes. He was worried about his plan. Not so much a plan, but a hope. The rest of the vampires would certainly kill him if he failed and possibly even if he succeeded. Bit by bit he gathered his courage. He stepped out of the car and looked around. There was no one in sight. He walked noiselessly to the door. After another moment of hesitation and indecision, he slipped on a mask of cool confidence, and rapped sharply on the door.

  The sound startled John as he lay on the bed in the darkened room. He sat bolt upright, his heart suddenly pounding. Was it the police or was it the vampires? Neither option was good, but one was deadly. He had stayed in his hotel room after seeing his face on the 6 o’clock news. The name in the story was not his; a made up name maybe? Where did they get the name Robert McCarthy? He checked into the hotel under an alias, made up a name and address on the spot. The hotel didn’t seem to be too picky about residents. They didn’t ask for a driver’s license and he paid for three days in cash. As long as the money was green a room would be available.

  The news reported he had gruesomely murdered an employee at the church and embezzled money. This was all a fabrication. It did several things, though. It made going out in public dangerous and it set the police to searching for him. He couldn’t come forward to clear his name. It wouldn’t be that easy. The picture of him on the news was from his accidental visit to the church with Maggie. Luckily she wasn’t in the photo the police released. Maggie had to be aware he was in trouble. She would be asked about his visit to the police the day before. It was amazing how badly upended his life had become in less than twenty four hours.

  The knock at the door came again.

  John rolled quietly off the bed and grabbed a stake from the bag on the floor. He padded to the door and looked out of the peephole. Outside the door was a man he had never seen before; very young, handsome, and pale looking in the wan light from the dirty fixture outside his room. John leaned back against the wall next to the door; his arm brushed the curtain slightly. Thomas noticed the movement of the drapes and rapped on the door again.

  Thomas leaned close to the door. His voice penetrated the wood and could easily be heard. “You’re looking for something unusual.” He said, “I think I can help you. I have information which might be useful.”

  John started to sweat. He was trapped. He wasn’t going to open the door. His mistake with Ice was a hard learned lesson. There was no supernatural barrier keeping a vampire out of a building unless invited. He doubted the wooden door between them could really stop the young man if he were determined to break in. John turned his head next to the door and spoke in a low voice. He knew he would be heard. “What do you want?”

  “Well, Father, I want to help you.” Thomas said quietly. “You’re playing a dangerous game and you’re severely outmatched. The police are after you, and after what you did to Ice, well, Malcolm is determined to wreak vengeance upon you. Ice is one of his favorites.”

  Ice is. Present tense. John didn’t kill him. “He survived?” John knew it was possible. He just didn’t think it was probable. An injury like that would kill most people. Most humans. A large hole from an impaling was difficult for medicine to repair. There would be grave tissue damage and possible organ trauma. But every encounter with vampires so far had empha
sized one inescapable fact; vampires aren’t human.

  “He did.”

  John realized something which almost slipped by his notice, “Wait. You called me Father.”

  “You’re a priest, right?”

  The vampires knew he was a priest. How did they find out? “What do you want? Why are you here? If you are going to kill me, I assure you I’m not going to go easily. I hurt the other one, I might kill you.” The bravado in John’s voice was not backed up by his courage or skills.

  “I don’t want to kill you.” Thomas said, “I want to give you Malcolm so you can kill him.”

  John paused for a long moment. The idea was insane. A vampire betraying his leader. “What? Why? Why would you do this? Why would I even believe you?”

  “Personal reasons.” Thomas replied.

  “Do it yourself. This is a trap to kill me. There are probably five more of you out there waiting in the dark. Which will it be? Are you going to storm this concrete box or wait until I come out?”

  “Honestly, I’m here by myself. The others don't know where you are.” Thomas chided himself. His treacherous action was not working out the way he hoped. “Someone found you here. I got the information before anyone else. I made sure it was only me who knew where you are. I need Malcolm removed for my own safety.”

  “Well boo, fucking, hoo. You aren’t safe. Neither am I. The inch and a half of wooden door between us isn’t going to stop you from getting in.” John toyed with the reckless idea of flinging open the door and attacking. The vampire would hear the locks and be prepared before the door opened.

  “I don’t know how to convince you of my sincerity.” Thomas said. Suddenly he had an idea. “Our sleeping places are scattered around the church. In the various buildings there are chambers, crypts with secret entrances built into the rooms. There are false walls or cabinets which swing out.” Thomas neglected to describe what his hiding space was or how it was accessed. In his early days at the church he had been curious and sought out where the others slept in the day. He watched surreptitiously to see what rooms the others retired to. He was giving crucial information, but not specific buildings and locations.

  “What?” John couldn’t believe his ears. Was the vampire really telling him where they slept?

  “Malcolm always comes out of his office. It’s the door to the right side of the dais in the chapel. I don’t know what he has set up in there. I've never been in his office. The door is always locked whether he’s there or not. There's a door to the outside in his office. He could leave and sleep somewhere else for all I know. But I think he sleeps at the church. His office may hold an entrance somewhere. Maybe in a fake wall, a chamber in the roof, or the floor."

  “You are betraying them all.” John whispered.

  “Come in the daytime. All of us will be safely asleep. There are one or two mortals around but most of our retainers are there in the evening. Thomas revealed the secrets of the church. In for a penny, in for a pound. “There’s one catch.”

  “Oh, really?” John was incredulous at the information the young vampire was divulging.

  “You can't kill me.”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” John said. If this were legitimate, it was almost too good to let slip by without at least attempting. He might not be able to exterminate all the vampires at once, but he might be able to kill a few. If he killed Malcolm he could stop the church from existing. It was an affront to his religious sensibilities, or maybe his former sensibilities. At this point there wasn’t too much pious about "Father Bryant" in his own mind. He had done things he never imagined. Lines may have been crossed which could not be uncrossed. “Do you feel at all bad you just sacrificed your people?”

  “They aren’t really my people.” Thomas said. He was among them but not of them. He was justifying his betrayal. “I came to Vegas awhile back. I didn’t know they were here. When they discovered I was here, they found me and I was given a choice. Join them or leave. It was good at the beginning...” Thomas shrugged. It was a small human gesture which still remained with him. He was very new to the life; he hadn’t spent enough time as a vampire to lose his human affectations.

  “Is that all?”

  “All you’re going to get from me.” Thomas turned from the door and melted into the night. In his car he reflected on what he had just done. It might be the end to the church. It might be the end to Malcolm if the priest was lucky. He didn’t have much faith the priest would get so lucky. Malcolm was powerful and old, the oldest he’d ever met. You don’t live such a long life without being canny. There were probably safeguards in place to protect him while he slept.

  John looked through the peephole. The vampire was gone. He put the stake away and immediately started packing what few things he had unpacked at the new motel. It wasn’t safe to stay. He had been discovered and wasn’t about to trust the vampire completely. It could have been a set up to see what he knew. Every vampire at the church could be waiting outside to ambush him when he left. What he’d been told about the hiding places at the church could be true, but if they were in the dark waiting to kill him, what good would the information do?

  In five minutes he was ready to leave. He pulled back the drape and peered out the window into the parking lot. It was deserted. He checked all directions and all angles, even looking at the roof of the building across from his room. They could be anywhere. He opened the door and with a stake in his dominant hand and a piece of luggage in the other, he stepped outside. There was no one around. John stood peering into the dark, looking for movement or figures hiding. After a long minute he walked to his car and unlocked the trunk with his keys. He placed the bag in the trunk and shut the lid. He went back into the room and filled the bag with stakes, a small sledgehammer, a large serrated knife, small saw, a vial of holy water, and communion wafers. Everything a movie vampire hunter needed. He felt a bit foolish. The truth was different than the fictions. But wasn’t that always the case?

  John shut the motel room door and got in his car. He was homeless again and hunted; by the police and the vampires. He needed food. After seeing his face on the news he was reluctant to leave his hotel. As it grew darker he grew more hungry. He needed somewhere safe to go.

  John drove down the street. He pulled over when he saw a pay phone at the side of a 7/11. John fished some change out of a pocket and dialed a number from a piece of paper. As the phone rang he looked around. On the third ring it was answered.

  “Hello?” Maggie said.

  “Maggie, it’s John Bryant.”

  Chapter 11

  The Truth

  Maggie hesitated at the other end of the phone. “John, where are you?”

  “Is that so you can have me picked up?” John asked. “I didn’t kill the man at the church.”

  “I believe you. There's something strange happening.” Maggie said. “I was called into the homicide captain’s office this morning. They had a picture of both of us at the church.”

  “The picture on the news didn't show you.”

  “The captain cropped the photo so I wasn’t dragged into whatever this is. Cops protect their own.” Maggie paused. “What’s going on? Who are you? You came to my department looking for information on murders and a day later you are implicated in a brutal killing.”

  “Can I talk to you in person? I need help and you're the only one I can turn to.” John’s voice was edging toward desperation.

  Maggie was silent for a long moment. Should she tell him to go to the police to clear his name or should he hear him out? Her duty told her one thing, but she wanted to help John. If she didn’t like what he had to say she could bring him in herself. “I’ll listen to what you have to say. I’m not going to make any guarantees on what I’ll do next.”

  John rested his hand against the payphone, his thumb over the disconnect. He didn’t have many choices. Leave town and go back to Colorado or see if he could convince Maggie the mad tale he had to tell was true. She was
very no nonsense. Would she believe the real story if he told her? “Okay. I’ll come to you," he said. “Please don’t tell the police or make any decision until you hear me out.”

  “I won’t.” Maggie gave him her address. “Be careful. The police are searching for you.”

  “They’re not the only ones.”

  “What?”

  “I’ll explain when I see you. Be there shortly.” John hung up the phone and walked back to his car. He pulled out the map of Las Vegas and figured out where Maggie lived.

  The drive was quick. He parked his car down the street from her house. In his hand was the sports bag with the now ridiculous tools of his mission. He didn’t have any concrete evidence of vampires to show Maggie. Would she accept the stakes and holy water as proof? He doubted she would be convinced by the murderous paraphernalia. She might take the contents of the bag as evidence of madness.

  John knocked at the front door of Maggie’s house. She peered out of the peephole then opened the door. Their eyes met, a silent conversation ensued while standing in the door way. John was apologetic, Maggie skeptical but understanding, both knew what the other was feeling.

  “Come in.” Maggie stepped back and motioned for him to enter. John walked into her house carrying a small bag. She stepped outside and scanned the neighborhood. Satisfied there was nothing suspicious, she entered her house and locked the door behind her.

  She led the way into the living room. It was comfortably furnished but not extravagant. There were bookshelves with books and VHS tapes of movies. “I don’t think you were followed. I didn’t see any police cars,” she paused, “Or anyone else for that matter.” Maggie motioned to a chair. “Sit down.” John sat in the chair and set the bag on the floor, it clunked woodenly. Maggie glanced at the bag. She stood over him, an authority figure, her arms folded across her chest. “I want to you explain everything. Who are you? What are you doing here? Everything. No lies. You aren’t a writer, are you? You aren’t an accountant either, I’ll bet. But you have something to do with the church where the man was murdered.”