John looked at the floor. “It’s difficult to explain. And it’s going to be hard to believe. It’s a bit like a horror movie plot.” John motioned for her to sit. She shook her head and remained in front of him. “Alright. This first part is going to be hard for you to hear.”
“Oh?”
“Maggie,” John said, “I’m a Catholic priest.”
She stared blankly at him, her mind racing. Finally she spoke. “What?” Her voice was strained. “You’re a priest?”
John nodded slowly.
“A priest.” The statement was strangely amusing. “Great. I’ve had lines from men who didn’t want to date me, but this one beats them all.”
“I’m not kidding, Maggie. I meant to tell you earlier.”
“When?” Her anger started to rise. “When we had coffee in my office? At dinner? During our walk down the Strip?” Maggie paced the room. Blood painted her cheeks red with embarrassment. “Why’d you lead me on like that?”
“I never intended to let you believe I was...,” His voice trailed off, “available.” He had dealt with many difficult situations, many overwrought people. His was the calming voice in the storm, not the person who created the maelstrom. “I would never have asked you out at the police station.”
“You didn’t have to accept!” Maggie shouted.
“You’re right.”
She glared at him sitting there, calm and benevolent. She was yelling at a priest. Maybe he was a priest. “Can I see your wallet?”
John stood up and pulled out his wallet from his back pocket and handed it to her. She searched the contents. She looked at the driver’s license and could tell it was real. “At least you gave me your real name.” The contents of the wallet were pretty standard. The pictures were not. There were shots of him in priestly vestments and one at the Vatican. “Is that Pope John Paul II?”
“I met him once several years back. It was a big deal for me. Standard day for him, I imagine. He meets a lot of people who work for him.”
“Okay. You work for the Pope.” Maggie handed the wallet back. “You’re a priest. What’s your story? Why were you looking for bizarre murders?”
“Now this is where it gets problematic.” John leaned forward in the chair. “Please sit down. What I’m going to tell you goes against everything modern society believes to be true.”
Maggie sat on the couch across from him. She curled her legs underneath her.
“Several months ago a friend came to see me, a lot of people come to see me about a whole host of problems, but his was unique. He wanted to die, but that’s not the unique part. He had been dead for 5 years and was now a vampire.”
“Get out.” Maggie said sternly.
“I’m deadly serious.” John lifted the bag from the floor and unzipped it. He poured the contents on the floor in front of him; stakes, a small sledgehammer, a small saw, a knife, a silver flask, and what looked like crackers. John continued in his most convincing priestly manner. The reasonable, conciliatory tones which he developed over many years of dealing with distraught people, the peacemaker soothing marital discord, the one comforting people who had lost loved ones. It was a voice he easily slipped into. “Sean came to get my help. He wanted me to kill him, to put an end to his unholy existence. But he also gave me the task of hunting down and killing other vampires. Sean didn’t give me a choice, really. He knew me well enough to manipulate me, play upon my conscience. I was given a list of cities where he knew vampires are active. Las Vegas is one of those cities. It was closest to my parish in Colorado so I came here but I didn’t know how to find them. It’s not like he gave me addresses. I tried the library but digging through microfiche of old newspapers was fruitless. So I came to the police looking for help. The writer story was the best I could come up with. I couldn’t tell you the real reason I wanted bizarre murders, could I?”
Maggie sat silently staring at him. John decided to continue.
“After dinner, when we were walking, we stopped at that church.”
“I remember.” Maggie said quietly. Her face betrayed no emotion. She had lapsed into cop mode, a mask of patient indifference.
“The pastor was a vampire.”
Her eyes widened. Was he insane? The thought of vampires was ludicrous. She sighed and leaned for the cordless phone sitting on the end table. “This is crazy. I’m calling for a car to be dispatched.”
“Please wait. Let me finish. If you want to call the police after I’m done, so be it.” He implored. “I proved I’m a priest, right?”
Maggie nodded. Besides listening she was working out how to subdue him and hold him until a car arrived.
“We accidentally stumbled into a coven, for lack of a better word, of vampires running a church.” Even as he said it he had to admit it sounded ridiculous. “What hiding place would you look for if you were... hunting vampires? Graveyards? Abandoned houses? Probably. Nothing would lead you to believe a church could be a safe haven for... vampires.” Again he hesitated at speaking the word. In 1987 it sounded insane. “When I looked around and realized there was more than one I grabbed you and we left. It scared the hell out of me. But if you think of it, it’s kind of brilliant. You don’t hunt for food, it comes to you.”
“Vampires don't exist.” Maggie protested adamantly. “They're mythical. That's horror movies and books. In the Dark Ages people would get buried prematurely and when the bodies were dug up, why I don’t know; the bodies showed a struggle and corpse was bloody from them trying to escape a coffin.”
“I know. I did extensive research before I started hunting them. You’re right; sometimes people were buried while in a coma and would try to escape the grave when they awoke." John was thinking quickly. “I found in every culture, almost since the Greeks, there have been myths of creatures who drink blood for sustenance. The Greeks called them Lamiae; Romans called them Stiges. I don’t know their origins, but they’re real.” John paused as he remembered. “I killed my friend who was a vampire, and I thought I killed one after we said good bye last night.”
“What?” Maggie exclaimed.
“After I left you at the restaurant I went walking again. I saw one of them from the church on the street. I followed him, which was stupid. He confronted me. After a conversation in a bar, I thought I escaped him but he showed up at my motel. He almost killed me. I got lucky and he ran out the door with a stake sticking out of his neck. He survived.”
“How do you know he survived?” Maggie asked. The story was getting stranger.
“A different vampire came to my new motel,” John said. “He told me Ice survived my attack.”
“Ice?” Maggie said the word slowly and sighed.
“That was his name. The bartender at the bar called him Ice.”
Maggie stared at him silently. She glanced around the room then spoke. “Ok. I accept you’re a priest. I accept you think vampires are real. But you can’t expect me to believe it too. Does the Catholic Church know what you are doing?”
John shifted uneasily in his chair. “No,” he replied adamantly. “I’m on a sabbatical and acting on my own volition. I’m trying to keep my church out of this. If my mission goes sideways they can cut me loose to save their reputation. I don’t know. It’s starting to slide sideways right now.”
“So they don’t officially acknowledge the existence of vampires in the modern age.” Maggie stated contemplatively. “They don’t believe in them and would probably get you help for your delusion if you told them everything you have told me tonight.”
“Probably. Or I could be excommunicated. I really don’t know the consequences. However, the Church does believe God, Satan, angels and demons to be real. Vampires are not so farfetched if you believe in those.”
Maggie sat immersed in thought for a few minutes. John watched her. She needed to come to some decision, and he didn’t want to pressure her. “What you are saying is vampires are real. They are in Las Vegas running a church.”
“Yes.”
“The least you can do is not hand me over to the police. Maybe let me sleep on your couch tonight. They found my motel. It wasn’t safe for me to stay there. I’ll leave in the morning.” John said. He paused before continuing. What he needed to ask for would a difficult, borderline insane request. He proceeded slowly. “What I really need most is your help killing them. You don’t have to do anything but keep watch while I do the task.”
“Keep look out while you murder vampires.” The disbelief in her voice frightened John.
“Yes.”
Maggie looked at her watch. It was not very late but she needed to think. Would she turn him in when the morning came or would she go with him? “When would you be doing this?”
“Tomorrow, daytime, would be best. I’ve got too much heat on me. My face is plastered on the news. I can’t keep running from the police and the vampires forever.” John said. “One of them will catch me.”
They sat silently.
John broke the tense silence. “Will you help me? Or at least not hinder me?” He was almost pleading. He resigned himself to her decision. He doubted he had the strength to continue on his own. If she turned him in the police would probably figure out he didn’t kill the man at the church but his vocation as a priest would be over. The scandal would be enough to overturn his life. He could try to go back to his old life but it might be impossible. The Bishop would transfer him or strip him of his posting if this all came to light.
Maggie sensed his weariness and imminent collapse. “Tomorrow I’ll go with you to see if they exist. If they do and what you’ve told me is true, I’ll help you. If they don’t, I will take you to the station. What happens then with the murder investigation, I don’t predict.”
John was silently heartened by her decision. The panic rising in him began to subside.
“You can sleep on the couch.” Maggie got up and stretched. “Blankets and pillows are in the hall cupboard. I’m going to bed. If you’re crazy and try anything, I sleep with a gun.” She said straight forward, business-like. If he was crazy and something happened, she would shoot him. She tapped a door in the hallway as she walked to her bedroom. “Pillows, blankets are here.”
John heard her bedroom door close. He put the stakes and everything else back in the bag and zipped it up. Either they would be used tomorrow to kill vampires, or they would be evidence for a strange tale to be told to the police.
John walked to the hallway cupboard and found a blanket and pillow. He glanced at the door to Maggie’s bedroom. He was sorry she’d been hurt by his deceit. It was unintended. He walked back to the couch, set up his makeshift bed for the night. Slowly he kneeled in front of the couch, placed his palms together, and prayed.
Chapter 12
Lies
Pastor Malcolm Richards stood quietly at the pulpit looking out at the congregation. He searched the faces in the crowd. All of the congregants had heard about the horrible murder earlier in the day. It had been sensationally splashed on television with breaking updates throughout the day. The crowd gave him the time he needed to collect his thoughts. The sharks in the sea of humans smiled inwardly at the solemnity Richards projected, a pious man whose church had been defiled by a heinous crime. He finally spoke.
“My friends thank you for coming out tonight. I’m sure many of you knew Greg Castillo. He was a very nice man and a good friend to us here at the church. The staff is devastated by this terrible loss. We send condolences out to his grieving family and friends. Greg had many dreams which will now, sadly, never be fulfilled. But beyond this crime there was money stolen from the destitute which cannot easily be replaced.” His voice cracked with emotion, the sharks smiled at the act.
Malcolm looked at the crowd and could tell donations would be flooding in. The flock was easily fleeced.
“I pray the Godless man who committed this crime is found quickly and punished in accordance with the laws of God and man.” Tears welled up in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you understand why I can’t continue tonight. Go home and pray that the perpetrator of this foul deed is found. Some of the brothers and sisters are available to help you pray if you need assistance.” Malcolm crossed the platform and entered his office. The vampires chatted in hushed tones with the faithful and made arrangements to minister with some of the flock in their homes. When the chapel was empty Malcolm emerged from his office.
He stood on the dais and gazed at each one of them. Simone was closest to him. One of the vampires was missing. “Where is Thomas?” The words sounded metallic and sharp as they came from his mouth. The disdain behind them was not disguised. “He should have been here tonight. I’m going to have to do something about him. He’s failing in this life; I think he needs to go.” The vampires assembled looked at one another. No one had ever been banished before. If that was what Malcolm intended. With the cruel dispatching of the human retainer Greg, they imagined Malcolm might kill Thomas too.
“The police have not found John Bryant. Our mortals have not been able to find him either. I have a hunch he is still out there, hiding someplace.” Malcolm said angrily. “Have you all made arrangements to feed tonight?” The vampires nodded in affirmation. “Good. After you have fed I want you to continue looking. Take whatever retainers you need. Keep in contact with the switchboard here. If you find him don’t attempt to capture him. He hurt Ice. I don’t want any of you harmed.” Malcolm glared at them ominously. “I don’t want him harmed either. If he is going to be hurt, I will be the one inflicting pain for what he did to Ice.” Malcolm pointed to the doors. “Go find him.”
The vampires quickly glided out of the chapel. Simone remained behind. She climbed the steps of the dais and hugged Malcolm. He accepted her support.
“Simone, the police don’t believe Jerry’s story about the murder. I understand but it’s disappointing. I left instructions setting up an apartment in Robert McCarthy’s name on Sugarfoot, the landlord was paid to show receipts of residency for a year. The place was made to look lived in. It was also made to look like he left in a hurry; there were dirty dishes in the sink and food in the fridge. What did we miss?”
Simone looked at him. She could tell him what he didn’t want to hear. Ice was the only other one with the ability to point out what others saw but dare not say.
“It was hastily planned. We didn’t have enough time to create a foolproof identity for this priest. It was two hour’s work but even with more time the ruse would unravel especially if the police catch him. His truth will come out.” Simone said, her accent still melodic to his ears after centuries together. “Something was missed. Or they knew something you couldn’t know. Regardless, the police are looking for him, and that was what you really wanted.”
“True.” Malcolm admitted. “I can give the police Jerry if it need be although I’m pretty sure he would tell them I ordered him to kill Greg. He’s weak, and that was an impulsive decision on my part. I wasn’t thinking straight, but Ice could have died. I was distraught.”
“And vengeful.” Simone added, “you have a temper, my dear.”
“Yes. It’s a weakness when those I love are hurt.” Malcolm gazed at her tenderly. He sighed and looked around the chapel. “We can leave easily; find another city to hunt in. There’s life teeming in big cities up and down the coast.”
“Let’s see what happens in the next few days.”
“We’ll wait. In the meantime...” Malcolm looked at his watch. “I have to go to the LVPD. Henderson has questions for me.”
“What are you going to tell him?” Simone asked as they walked down the stairs to the double doors.
“Lies.” Malcolm kissed Simone and walked out of the chapel.
“Send him in.” Bill Henderson leaned back in his chair, his eyes intent upon the pencil held horizontally in his left hand. He needed to focus. This was a meeting he wanted to avoid but couldn’t. Officially questioning the man who had led his wife’s former church and had been u
nofficially bolstering his bank account was a bad situation to be in. He knew the pastor. Richards had made requests over time. Requests and favors to help the church. The requests may have skirted the law, but none of those requests involved a dead body. Every encounter with the pastor was unsettling. Not just because of the corrupt relationship but because he found the man unnerving. Henderson also didn’t want any familial closeness to become known during the investigation. His ties to the church would be embarrassing if discovered. He himself didn’t go, didn’t have the time or belief system, but his wife and daughter had attended the church for a year. They stopped going six months back, switching to a congregation less intrusive in their lives.
The door opened. Without looking up Henderson motioned for the tall pale figure to enter. Malcolm shut the door behind him and sat in the chair across from Henderson.
“Richards,” Henderson shifted his gaze to the robust man in front of him. “You know why you’re here.” He sighed disconsolately. “You can ruin me, and I can ruin you- but this, however, is on another level entirely. I don’t intend to have my twenty five year career on the police force dragged down because of your ridiculous murder. This murder at your church was sloppy and stupid.” He looked into the preacher’s haunting eyes. “Why did you have it done?”
“I don’t understand what you are insinuating.” Malcolm said innocently.
“Bullshit. The murder of Greg Castillo has so many things wrong with it, it stinks to high heaven. The man you said killed him was seen here at the police station yesterday. The name he gave wasn’t Robert McCarthy."
“Oh?” Malcolm leaned forward his interest kindled. “He came to the police station yesterday? Why?”
Henderson convulsed with silent laughter for a moment and smirked. “I’d swear you set this up. It has the hallmarks of your twisted mind.” Henderson looked out the window distractedly. “He came here looking for information about murders.”
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