80 Proof Hex_Deckland Cain 2

by D Michael Bartsch

  Mr. White checked his watch, waited another thirty seconds, and then pushed the plunger down on the French press. He used a meticulous amount of even pressure on it like he was brewing the secret potion of eternal life and not a pot of coffee.

  Once he finished, he poured himself a cup and then reached over and filled my paper cup. I had to admit; it smelled good as it steamed into the little cup. I took the cup and considered throwing it into his face, but I didn’t really feel like the satisfaction would be worth eating through a straw for six months.

  “Don’t suppose you have any cream and sugar?” I asked.

  He smiled, taking a delicate sip from his perfectly white mug.“‘Fraid not.”

  Figures.

  I pulled the cup to my lips and blew on it. I wasn’t about to burn my tongue in front of these people. That would severely damage my reputation. I doubted that they would still be afraid of me if they witnessed it. I took a tiny sip. It wasn’t bad. It would have been better with cream and sugar in it, but it wasn’t awful.

  “What do you think?” He asked.

  “Lovely,” I muttered. “Citrusy in a way.” I set the paper cup down. “Now, I don’t suppose we can get on with it.”

  “On with what, Mr. Stearns?” He asked, taking another sip.

  “I dunno. The questioning, the waterboarding, or whatever it is you people do here.”

  He laughed. He set the mug down and smiled in earnest, looking at me like I was some dumb kid who’d just said one of the darnedest things. “No one is going to torture you. I just want to ask you some questions.”

  “Well, let’s get on with it. I got things to do today.”

  He nodded, taking another drink. He leaned back in the chair, crossing his legs.

  “And what is it you have to do today? You aren’t officially employed anywhere. You seem to make money doing odd jobs as far as I can tell. You cashed a check six months ago that was listed as payment for ‘cleaning services.’ Other than that you hardly deposit any money in the joint bank account you share with your roommate.

  “You two write one check a month to your landlord, and other than that, you seem to deal only in cash and prepaid credit cards. You don’t have a cell phone plan. You don’t pay for internet or cable. You spend twenty dollars a month on a gym membership, again paid for with a prepaid credit card. You have a driver’s license, a birth certificate, and a GED. Other than that, there’s almost nothing else out there to prove that you even exist, Mr. Stearns.”

  He paused and let that hang in the air. He looked at me with knowing eyes. This guy was definitely a Fed, and he could smell a false identity. He was probably already running my prints. Probably pulled them from the inside of the SUV. Now that I thought about it, White never touched the inside door handle. Wallace had let him out. Son of a bitch. They wouldn’t find anything on me. I’d paid top dollar for near perfect false identities back in the day. My Eliot Stearns ID had been a backup. It may have been scant concerning details, but it was ironclad. That, I was sure of.

  “I try and stay off the grid,” I said. “I’m a Libertarian and think that government is the biggest mistake mankind has ever made. Starting to think that I may be on to something.”

  Mr. White smiled and drank some more coffee. “Off the grid. That’s nice.”

  He leaned forward and set his mug down. He opened up the file in front of him and started to leaf through it. “You moved into your apartment about a year ago. You and your roommate live together. However, you don’t seem to be together.”

  He had a lot of black and white photos of Carl and I. Coming out of the gym, walking down the street, outside of the coffee shop. He set out a few pictures of just Carl.

  “Carl Rentz. Barista by day, pastor of a local church by night. Other than a twitter account and a W2, he’s about as off the grid as you. He a Libertarian too?”

  “You know how those religious types are,” I said.

  “Of course.”

  “Any of this a crime now?” I asked, taking another sip of coffee and slurping it up loudly.

  “No, it is not. Murder is though.”

  That got my attention. “Murder? You got the wrong guy.”

  White pulled out a few more photos and slid them across from me. They showed three different bodies. Each was naked and in rough shape. I reached forward and looked at each of them. Two women and an older man. I could see puncture marks on their necks and thighs. One of the women had a nasty gash on her stomach and had had her intestines pulled out a little bit.

  They all bore defensive wounds and ugly slash marks on their arms and anywhere that covered a vital organ or artery. They’d been chewed up and partially eaten, but I recognized the wounds. Vampires. They’d drained the life out of these people and left them to the elements. I set the photo down and looked back at Mr. White. He wasn’t smiling anymore.

  “I have over a dozen bodies, fall within the last month. Each one beaten, cut, chewed on, and drained of just about every drop of blood they have.”

  “It wasn’t me,” I said.

  “You sure?”

  I glanced around the room at the agents, trying to do the math again in my head. Still just as screwed as I’d been, but fight was starting to sound better and better, even if it did get me killed.

  “I don’t care for blood,” I said. “Makes me queasy.”

  He pulled the photos back across the table and stacked them back up. He pulled out a few more and slid them over.

  “How about these?”

  I recognized the scene. It was a puddle of filth with a piece of broken antler sticking out of it. It was the Wendigo corpse, or what was left of it after Carl and I had finished with it.

  “Witnesses say a man dressed in black came out of the shadows and shot what they describe as a twelve foot tall, three-legged deer that came out of the ground. They say the weapon he used matches what I am guessing is a Kel-Tec KSG shotgun. Do you own a shotgun like that Mr. Stearns?”

  And that right there is why I don’t buy guns legally. Government oversight is a real son of a bitch.

  “Twelve-foot tall deer?” I asked. “Suppose that does look like an antler in a puddle. No such thing as twelve-foot tall man-eating deer though. You sure it wasn’t a hoax?”

  “I never said man-eating.”

  Dammit. I had to keep playing it cool. If they had anything, they wouldn’t be jumping through any hoops. I’d be in some dungeon now if they really thought I’d killed those people.

  “I think we both know that you were the one there that night Mr. Stearns.”

  I shrugged. “Too bad about that whole innocent until proven guilty thing,” I said, leaning back in my chair to mimic his stance.

  “I have a letter from the President of these United States that says I can do just about whatever I want to anyone I want. Considering there’s hardly anything to prove that you even exist, making you disappear would be easier than brewing this coffee.”

  I felt my stomach drop. These people weren’t the Venatori, so they weren’t talking about sending me to the Void, but I’m sure he was talking about the earthly equivalent. I’d end up in some black site with a bunch of terrorists and other unfriendly types. They’d beat me, take naked photos of me and then throw away the key and any proof that I was buried out there. Why not just kill people?

  “I’m not sure how a story about a deer hunter ties into the murders,” I said, trying to redirect.

  “Good question. My team has been tracking this man.”

  He slid another photo across the table. It was a little blurry, but I recognized it immediately. It was the male Vampire I’d seen the night before, the one who’d brought the others there specifically to feed on Hellion blood. He was wearing a black trench coat, talking on a cellphone while driving, dangerous.

  “We don’t have an ID on him yet. We think he and his followers are responsible for the deaths.”

  “Some kind of cult?” I asked.

  “Something like that ye
a.” He said, sipping his coffee.

  “I’m not much of a follower,” I said.

  “No, you don’t seem to be.” He didn’t seem bothered by the interruption. “As I said, we believe that he is responsible. We’ve tracked him to a local bar call Sanctuary. He seems to be living in the adjacent building.”

  The pieces started to fall into place. The bar had been unusually dark when I’d gone there. All the windows had been blacked out, and the patio door was locked up tight. I racked my brain to think back to the building next to it. It had looked empty from the outside. The windows had been boarded and taped up, everything you’d do if you didn’t want any light coming in during the daytime. It was a Vampire den.

  The bar was perfect. People didn’t go there until after dark, and it would be easy for some drunken idiot to get lured into the wrong room and get bled dry.

  Another photo. This one showed me coming out of Sanctuary.

  “This is you coming out of that very bar yesterday. You were there less than five minutes at ten in the morning, so I doubt you were there to get a drink. Tell me, what were you doing there Mr. Stearns?”

  I weighed my options. They were trying to tie me into a mess of murders. I’m a bastard in general, but I was innocent. Mr. White didn’t seem to strike me as the type to care much about those kinds of details though.

  “Needed a drink,” I said. “Not much for small talk with bartenders.”

  Another smile that I was sure was fake. “Mr. Stearns. I feel confident that you weren’t involved with any of the murders. However, you were there for a reason. You need to tell me why. This cute thing you are going for isn’t working. If you don’t cooperate with me, I’ll lock you up and throw away the key for wasting my time.”

  I took the little white cup and leaned back, sipping gently. I felt an itch in my intestines. Sweat beaded on my sides, and I wiped my palms on my jeans. I played it cool though, not letting them see my discomfort at the thought of solitary confinement. Another dark hole lost forever.

  “I was looking for someone,” I said. “Not the guy in the photo. I was looking for a girl.”

  “Which girl?” He asked.

  “Her name is Veronica Owens. Her younger brother reported her as missing. I agreed to help him find her. She hangs out at Sanctuary. I was in there asking the bartender about her. I paid him to give me a call if he saw her again.”

  “How long as she been missing?”

  “Couple of days. Kid’s convinced that someone took her. I got the impression that she split on her own. It’s not the first time she’s bailed, but I told him I’d look into it. I’m a man of my word.”

  “Why did the boy call you?”

  “I help people,” I said. “They have problems, and I solve them.”

  Mr. White nodded, draining the rest of his cup. “I believe you.”

  That was a relief. I felt something in my stomach release, and I had the sudden urge to drop a massive dump.

  “My team can check into the disappearance. If she’s used a credit card, we’ll find her. Even if she hasn’t, it’ll just take a little bit longer.”

  That was ominous. Big brother. Again, people say my paranoia is unjustified.

  “Though, I do have some questions for you regarding your, groceries.”

  Dammit. Just when I thought I was in the clear.

  He nodded his head, and an agent disappeared and came back in with my bags. They set them on the table in front of Mr. White, taking his empty coffee cup and french press. I decided now was a time to play it incredibly cool. Everything else before this had been chump change.

  “Silver nitrate powder. Quite a lot of silver nitrate powder.”

  He pulled out containers from the bags and set them on the table. He thumbed through the receipts.

  “Looks like you went to five different stores to buy it. Also a few silver forks, glue, road flares, mason jars, shotgun shells, and a box of packing peanuts. That’s an interesting diet.” He said, sorting through all my stuff. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were expecting trouble from Werewolves or Vampires.”

  He stopped rifling through my things and looked at me.

  My heart skipped a beat. He knew. He knew what had killed those people. That’s why he knew I wasn’t involved, at least not in the actual murders. He’d picked me up in daylight. There was no way I was a Vampire. He knew though. I could see in those hunter’s eyes of his. Mr. White was a predator, and he was on the prowl. I’d been stupid enough to wander into his den.

  “Vampires? Werewolves? Twelve-foot tall man-eating deer? Keep talking like that, and someone’s going to start demanding a psych eval. Gonna think you snapped.”

  “Perhaps.”

  “I like crafting. Besides, if things like that really existed, I’m pretty sure it would take more than someone with a few forks and handfuls of powder to go after them.”

  “Indeed it would. So may I pass on a word of advice. There’s no such thing as professional monster hunters. Go home. If we find anything on the girl, we’ll let you know so you can finish your arrangement with the family. Don’t involve yourself in my investigation again Mr. Stearns. I’ve disappeared people far more innocent than you, and I sleep like a baby every night. Don’t test me.”

  No veiling that threat. White meant business. I was fine staying out of it. As soon as I was done with Al, I was bouncing out anyway.

  “Sounds good,” I said. “You got a hell of a poker face, Mr. White. White, that’s an English name right?” I asked.

  “It is.” He said.

  It was time to poke the bear a little, knock him off balance. “You don’t look particularly English if you don’t mind me saying.”

  “Not any more than most Americans.” He said. “If you are asking about my Native American heritage, I am a member of the Choctaw Nation.”

  “And you work for the Government?” I asked. “Isn’t that a bit of a slap in the face, Trail of Tears and plague blankets and what not.”

  No reaction. White looked at me, staring me down. Like I said, hell of a poker face.

  “Mr. Stearns, my people have been proud to be American long before any of those protestant sons a bitches decided to show up and plant a flag. Have there been mistakes in the past, yes, but trust me when I tell you that I love this country. I will fight and die to defend it. Remember that.” He said, standing up. “Take Mr. Stearns back to his apartment. See that his groceries are returned to him.”

  I looked at the agents around me. “And my other stuff?” I asked.

  White waved a dismissive hand. “Yes, yes. Return his weapon and fanny pack as well.”

  He left the room then. Wallace came up to me. “Let's go.”

  His voice was as deep as I would have assumed. When you are a massive man, I guess there’s a lot of room inside you to resonate.

  I stood up, talking to the other agents in the room. “It’s been real. Love the whole shadow government thing you got going on. Very mysterious. Very scary. Really, it’s great.”

  Wallace grabbed me by the arm, and he and the lady agent escorted me out. We walked back down the hall. I kept my head on a swivel. These people knew what was really hunting the victims. I tried to get a peek inside the rooms but kept coming up with nothing.

  We walked out into the central section of warehouse again. From the top of the stairs, I could see everything a little more clearly. Where I’d been distracted by the Humvee and tables of guns before, now I could see that there were banks of computers, power generators, and there were lamp stands everywhere. There were yellow lampstands at every entrance, pointed at the doors. The windows were barred, with lights pointed at them and more lights were scattered throughout the interior of the warehouse. They weren’t plugged into any of the main outlets. There were all running to different generators.

  As we walked by one, I glanced at the bulb. It looked like a blacklight, but I knew immediately that it was a UV bulb. I was looking at contingency upon contingency. The
se people knew that they weren’t after a human serial killer. You don’t have power banks and rows and rows of UV bulbs for anything other than Vampires. I bet they fired them up at dusk and left em running till dawn. I would.

  Mr. White and his band of merry men were Vampire hunters. They weren’t with the Venatori though. I was familiar with their brand cloak and dagger. This had the stink of government bureaucracy all over it. This was the American Government, hunting Vampires. That was the thought that kept coming back to me as Wallace sat me in the back of an SUV and handed me a black bag. I pulled it on.

  What in the hell had I got myself into?

  16

  I had the entire drive back to the apartment to stew on what had just happened, what was still happening to me. I didn’t trust Wallace or Mr. White, and for all I knew, I was getting driven out into the desert to a shallow grave and a .357 magnum to the back of the skull. That didn’t happen though. When the SUV finally stopped the only thing that happened was Wallace gruffly telling me to get out.

  I pulled off the hood and looked out the window at the front of my apartment building.

  “Take your things with you.” He said.

  I looked at the seat next to me. The female agent, in all her pleasant demeanor and charm, was sitting there and in-between us were my bags. I opened the door all the way. If they were going to snuff me out, they were going to have to do it in broad daylight. I grabbed my bags and got one foot on the ground before turning back.

  “It’s been a pleasure, really. Let’s not do it again though. Wallace, I’m worried that your girlfriend back here has a crush on me. I don’t want to make things awkward between us. Bros before hoes you know. I just really feel like she’ll drive a wedge between us.”

  No one looked amused. My work was done. I stepped back and left the door open. Wallace could get out and close it himself. There’s no limit to my pettiness.

  Wallace had his window down and leaned out. “Stay away from Sanctuary and this investigation. If I see you again, I'll take you down.”