“I didn’t expect that.” John croaked. His voice was ragged from the brief but vicious attack on his windpipe. Another few seconds and he might have been joining the vampire in death. John grabbed the large man and pulled him out of the coffin. He struggled with the weight until Maggie grabbed his feet and helped dump him out the trap door. The body crashed down and piled on the other two.
They looked around the space one last time to make sure they didn’t miss anything. Three empty coffins and now three dead vampires. Maggie moved to the trap door and dropped down through it. Her feet landed on the corpses and she stepped off onto the floor. John dropped down the bag and climbed out of the hole. He trod upon the bodies, a victor on the vanquished. He didn’t bother to replace the tile in the hole. The fact they had been there was irrefutable. The blood in the coffins which now split on the floor below the opening couldn’t be denied. Death had come to the church.
The sun was still shining in the Las Vegas sky. It beat down on the ground. John opened up the door and peered outside. There was no one around. No human helpers and more importantly, no police. John grabbed the top body and dragged him toward the door. Maggie moved to hold the door open for him. Would the sun destroy the bodies? There was one way to find out. John struggled with the dead weight of the large vampire. He made it out the door. As he stepped into the sunlight with the vampire’s body, the flesh started to smoke. He barely had the whole body in the sun when it ‘whooshed’ into flames. He quickly dropped the body before it burned him too and stepped back.
“How strange,” John whispered. So bursting into flames in sunlight was true. What were the physics of that? John couldn’t imagine. The body burned quickly, and by the time he dragged the woman’s body outside the first vampire was ash. The woman was consumed quickly by the fire. The vampires burned so quickly and intensely the stakes were turned to ash as well. John dragged the last body out into the sun and it burned fiercely.
Maggie stood by the door and watched as the bodies burned. It was morbidly fascinating. The fire worked fast. There was only a slight smell of burning flesh and the fire was concentrated to the body itself and didn’t seem to scorch much of anything around it like it should. The grass underneath the corpse didn’t singe. In mere minutes there was only a trace of ashes in the shape of a body on the sunlit grass. John stepped back into the room to get the bag. Maggie let the door close.
“I never would have believed it if I hadn’t seen it,” she said. “Why do they burn like that? What makes sunlight deadly to them?”
“Welcome to my world. It’s been weird for a while.” John said. “I don’t know why they burn, though it’s nice to have something I researched finally be true, other than the horrifying fact that vampires are real. They can die, it gives me hope.”
John moved to the exit, he turned the knob and started to open the door. A bullet tore through the wood barely missing him. He jumped to the side as more bullets ripped holes in the door. Maggie drew the 9mm and stood to the side. The brick of the building shielded her from the continuing gunfire. There were more bullets. She counted the rounds in her head. It was an automatic weapon. If it was a standard magazine the shooter would be empty. He would need to reload.
When there was a lull, she took the initiative. There was only a few seconds to act. While the assailant was reloading, Maggie spun in front of the door and emptied her clip through the holes in the wood. There was a sound, a grunt, a strangled cry, as one or more of her bullets found the mark. There was a clatter of a weapon dropping outside and the sound of a falling body. Maggie dropped the magazine and quickly loaded another one in the weapon.
Maggie crossed to John. Through the gaping holes in the door she thought she saw a body on the ground. “When I say ‘now’, throw open the door.”
John nodded and gripped the knob. He slowly turned the knob and Maggie said, “Now.” The door flew open and Maggie stepped out, gun leading the way. There was a man on the ground, he appeared to be dead. Blood was blooming through his shirt from Maggie’s bullets. She stepped out and kicked his weapon away in case he was still alive. Before she was able to make another move four Las Vegas police cleared the corner of the building, guns drawn.
“Freeze!” One of them yelled. “Drop the weapon!”
“Maggie?”
Chapter 16
Report
The four policemen pointed their weapons at Maggie and John. Maggie dropped the 9mm, interlaced her fingers behind her head, and got on her knees. John saw this and set the canvas bag slowly on the ground. He too interlaced his fingers behind his head and got on his knees. The cops looked at the bag quizzically upon hearing the sound of wood clunking. One officer checked the bleeding man and shook his head. Another carefully opened the bag and checked it. A sledgehammer, sharpened stakes, a small saw, flashlight. Weapons, but certainly not what they would ever expect.
Two cops kept their weapons leveled at them and the other two came forward. One forced Maggie face down on the ground and searched her. He found the empty shoulder holster, the two clips, one full and one empty, handcuffs, and the pistol she had confiscated from the man in the atrium. Maggie wondered if he was conscious yet. The cop cuffed Maggie and left her face down on the ground.
The other officer approached John, roughly forced him to the ground and searched him. He found no weapons but pulled a silver flask from a pocket. He uncapped the flask and sniffed it. There was no smell to the liquid contents. He cuffed John. The two police officers holstered their guns. Maggie was pulled up from the ground by two of them. They knew her.
“What’s the word, Maggie?” he asked. “You’re a little far from the computers aren’t you?” He looked in her eyes questioningly.
Maggie met his gaze impassively but said nothing. Her face was a mask. No emotion at all; cop neutral. She wasn’t about to talk, not at all. She would wait until there was a lawyer present, and maybe not talk even then. The most common mistake during an arrest was the person ignored their Miranda rights. Anything said would be used against them in a court of law. And everything Maggie could say sounded insane.
She stood silently as John was brought to his feet. One cop leaned down and picked up Maggie’s gun by the trigger guard using a plastic pen to preserve finger prints. The rifling of the weapon’s barrel could be matched to bullets at the crime scene. Ballistics could determine if the gun was used and where the gun was used. Another cop grabbed the bag with its odd contents.
The officers began leading them to the front of the church when they heard a short burst of muffled gunfire. They flattened John and Maggie against the wall and drew their weapons. One officer peeked around the corner of the building, gun drawn. The officer could see five police cars and several officers crouched behind them. Three more units had arrived during the time they were apprehending John and Maggie. Something unusual was happening in the chapel. The Motorola radios at the belts of the officers crackled to life as the gunfire continued. There were tense and panicked calls for help, reports of gunfire, and a call for an ambulance to be dispatched for an injured shooter. The radio chatter subsided as the gunfire increased. After a few minutes they heard that all the shooters were apprehended.
“I never went to a church like this when I was a kid,” said a young officer named Perez. His attempt at humor was greeted with stony silence from the three other officers. John looked at Maggie and shook his head. Humor could lessen the tension of a dangerous situation, but the joke was lame. It deserved no reaction.
They waited behind the corner of the building for a few moments. A number of police were leading four men in handcuffs out of the chapel. Two officers held four M-16s like the one used to shoot at Maggie and John through the door. The police hiding behind their cars stood up, the tension leaving their bodies. Whatever was happening was over.
John saw the first man Maggie pistol whipped being lead out in handcuffs by the police. Blood was fresh on the back of his clothes from where Maggie smashed him with the gun. H
e was carefully placed in the back of a police car.
The situation had spiraled completely out of control. Now the police were deeply involved. There was no way the Catholic Church could avoid being in the spotlight. It was only a matter of time before headlines splashed, ‘Vampire Hunting Priest Captured in Las Vegas!’ This was a scandal which would set the Vatican on fire. The church had suffered scandals before. Many remained in the confines of the church, quietly covered up; priests with alcohol or drug addictions, clergy who had molested children and were sent to another parish to commit the same crimes again, priests or nuns who had sexual relationships with congregants, psychological disorders. Many things could be swept under the rug, but something as sensational as vampire hunting in a church would come out. Multiple deaths would be exposed in the news. John figured his name would be on the lips of every priest for the next twenty years. Vampires in the twentieth century, preposterous! The rogue priest had lost his mind.
They reached the police cars. A supervisor had been dispatched. He looked at Maggie, obviously puzzled by her presence at this bizarre crime scene. Inside was one dead man, his head half blown off; one man was wounded and unconscious, another man was just unconscious. Four men had M-16s and were in a brief armed standoff with police at a church where a homicide happened the day before.
“Hi, Mags. Got anything to say?” asked the supervisor.
Maggie shook her head silently and glanced John’s way. He understood the cues she was giving him and refused to respond to any questions. They were read their Miranda rights and placed in separate cars. The four church members were also put in cars.
More vehicles showed up at the church. The coroner, ambulances, and investigative officers had work to do. Crime tape went up around the church and reporters and television vans pulled up. This was big news, tape at six o’clock.
The ride to the police station seemed like an eternity to John as he wallowed in his own sullen thoughts. He was done. His life, his easy life, was over. How could he ever go back to giving sermons and presiding over weddings and funerals?
He decided he wouldn’t offer a truthful explanation of what happened. He wouldn’t talk unless he had an attorney and maybe not even then. He could plead insanity, say he had a psychotic break. The courts might go lightly on him. A few years in a psych ward might not be so bad. It would be better than trying to convince people of the truth; vampires are real and they were running a church. The truth would put him in a straightjacket and under a doctor’s care for a long, long time. He imagined himself in restraints bouncing his head lightly against a padded wall, slipping further and further away from reality. “Vampires. It was vampires. They’re real." would be the litany for the defrocked, disgraced priest.
He was not so much concerned with himself. He had accepted the possible consequences of his actions when he took up the challenge from Sean. Excommunication had always loomed nearby. It was inevitable if he were discovered. No, he was worried about Maggie. She was a reluctant accomplice, thrust into an unreasonable situation. She would most likely lose her job and be unemployable in law enforcement anywhere else. One man was dead because of her. Defending herself in court would be difficult. Virtually impossible. If she pleaded self-defense the question would arise, ‘You were in a church, a house of God, who were you defending yourself against?’
‘The vampire’s human servants. They were shooting at us, I had to return fire.’
‘Who told you there were vampires at this church?’
‘Father John Bryant.’
‘You are, of course, speaking about the excommunicated priest currently residing in the Happy Valley Funny Farm.’
‘That’s correct.’
Questions could not be answered easily or believably.
John looked at the sky. It was late afternoon. When the sun set, what would happen? The vampires would wake up and find their world destroyed.
While still handcuffed John was taken to a windowless room deep inside the large single story police station. It wasn’t near the records department he visited previously. This was where suspects went. In the ten foot by ten foot room the sole furnishings were a table with three metal chairs. Harsh fluorescent lights glared overhead. The walls and ceiling were clad in white soundproofing tiles. On one wall was what he presumed to be a one way mirror. The officer sat him down in a chair, undid the handcuffs and left the room silently. The door clicked behind the officer as he departed. Without checking John knew the door, the only way in or out, was locked. He got out of the chair and walked around the room. He refused to look at the mirror. He knew someone was watching and didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing just how freaked out he really was. His chest was constricted as he contemplated his ordeal. Maybe he would have a heart attack and die before any questions could be asked.
On one of the laps around the room he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He was shocked but tried not to visibly react. He looked haggard like he had been through a difficult trial, but there was blood spattered on his face and on the front of his clothes. He knew he had blood on his hands, but he didn’t realize there was blood on his face. It must have been spatter from driving stakes through the hearts of vampires. How to explain that? No wonder the police stared at him as he was brought into the station. He sighed deeply and sat in a chair, his back to the mirror. The police were going to let him stew. He wasn’t going to let them see him squirm like an amoeba under a microscope. He was motionless. With his hands on the table before him he could see time was passing. At five thirty John stood up. He walked to the mirror and tapped the glass. He gestured to his watch. The sun had set. The vampires would be awake soon if they weren’t already.
“Let’s get this show on the road, guys. If I have to wait much longer I’m going to pee in the corner.” John said, trying to act cooler than he felt. He sat down in a chair with his back to the mirror.
In the darkened room connected to Interrogation Room 3, a detective looked up from the file he was reading. He smiled grimly. “Let’s get started. I think he’s sweated enough. And I’m not mopping it up if he pisses in the corner.” He got out of the chair and exited the observation room, file in hand.
Detective Blum unlocked the door and strode into the interrogation room John occupied. He looked at the plain clothes detective calmly. The detective’s face conveyed no emotion. He pulled out a metal chair and sat at the table opposite him.
“I'm Detective Blum,” he said in a flat tone.
John stared at the detective.
“What happened at the church,” Blum paused and looked in the file. “John?”
Father Bryant’s face showed little reaction but Blum could tell he was surprised at hearing his name. It created doubts and made him wonder what else did they know?
“We are trying to figure out what happened there and you are one of the few who knows what crazy shit went down. We didn’t get anywhere with the men we pulled out of the church. They refused to talk just like you. They’re now cooling their heels in the drunk tank." Blum continued, “They didn’t even talk to the court appointed lawyers.”
“I want to see a lawyer. I’m not going to say anything until I have an attorney present. And privacy to talk.” He jerked his thumb at the mirror behind him. Blum glanced at the mirror and smiled slightly.
“What a strange afternoon you had, John.”
He remained impassive and didn’t react to his name.
“You were here two days ago. We remembered, though we aren’t certain of your last name. When the church said you are their accountant and killed someone, they gave us a name. When you were here earlier at the records department, seeing Officer Collins, you gave another.”
He reacted to Maggie’s name and couldn’t help himself. He had to ask. “Where’s... Officer Collins?” He was concerned for her future. His was over. Even if they weren’t sure of a last name the Catholic Church was in jeopardy when the police finished sorting out his identity. It would be dragged
into a scandal.
“You should be more concerned about yourself.” Blum admonished. “Do you know what we have on you? You’re the main suspect in a murder. You are wanted for backing into a motorcycle officer’s ride, which is basically assault on an officer with a deadly weapon. There’s one man dead and two more wounded at the same church where you are accused of murder. This is only a few of the charges against you. There are others but I didn't bring the list. And John, you have blood spattered on your face and clothes. I would be delighted to know how it got there.” Blum paused for effect. “When police deals with a case like yours, we go through the law books. We know most of the city and state laws of the top of our heads. For people who really piss us off we find every possible law applicable to the case. Your life isn’t going to be skittles and beer from this point forward. Things are bleak and getting bleaker by the minute."
“I want a lawyer,” John stated simply.
“Do you have one of your own?”
“No.”
“Then the court will appoint you an attorney.” Blum leaned forward on the table. “Let me describe what you’ll get: A pimply faced lawyer straight out of law school with all the good intentions in the world and high minded thoughts and ideals about justice, but with very little practical experience.”
“Lawyer.”
“I’ll get you one. With all the crazy stuff going on today they have been busy.” Blum closed the file and stood up taking the file with him. He unlocked the door and turned back to John. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a condescending tone. Blum smirked at his own joke and disappeared.
Blood Stakes Page 15