The Huntress Trilogy 03 The Vampire Who Knew Too Much

by Chanel Smith

  What the fuck? Are we drinking toasts now or are we in an article of Food and Wine magazine suddenly?

  She sat down, her legs carefully folded below her figure, her knees together. She sipped her champagne and smiled at Veronica.

  “Let me explain your dilemma. If you shoot me, the woman who is not Chelsea Van Buren will strike and kill. It will then vanish before you can turn on her and fire another shot. If you shoot her, your friend might be able to finish killing it, but alas, you will have lost your chance to shoot me.”

  She paused for another sip. “And I wonder which is actually worse. Which of those two choices is the worse one for you to make, Veronica Melbourne?”

  Veronica wanted to vent all her anger, stress and frustration on Ida Averbach right there and then, but something finally dawned on her. She had been so stressed out all this time because in her mind and heart, she figured that she’d had something to do with bringing this all down on everybody. On Walker and Chelsea, on Rand and the other Watchers. Hell, even on Amy and Belle. Because she’d felt that all of it had been related to her actions; the things she had done in New Orleans and in Russia. But they were not. She had no control over any of it and whomever she shot now, whichever choice she made, it would ultimately mean death and destruction, for someone or all of them. She realized that she couldn’t save everyone involved and Veronica bathed her soul and soothed her mind with that realization and then she did the only thing she knew she could do. She lowered her pistol and bought herself some time to think.

  “Fine,” Veronica Melbourne said. “Fine. If that’s the game, I’m not playing.”

  Ida threw her head back and laughed.

  “Good choice! Well done, my little vampire pet. But sadly, not the right answer.”

  “Then what is the right answer?” Veronica asked, suddenly calm. “And I am not your pet, sweety.”

  Ida chuckled.

  “Touché, darling.” She took another sip of wine and smiled. “There is no right answer, of course.”

  “Of course, there isn’t.”

  Veronica almost smiled at it. She’d had all the time that she needed. Ida raised her hands apologetically. “Alas, a choice has to be made.”

  Veronica shrugged and leaned back against the sideboard and holstered the Desert Eagle calmly.

  “Perhaps we should ask your friend?” Ida taunted.

  Be my fucking guest! You’re on, Walker. Let’s see just how much you’ve been paying attention.

  But Walker Van Buren was frozen in his place. He did not know what to do; he would not be able to make that decision. Turning from one to the other, he saw before him the woman he had slept with on the night the monster was created and he saw the monster that looked like his wife threatening the woman he now cared about.

  Then someone else made the decision. There was a click in the hallway and suddenly a flash. The creature shook and looked surprised, but did not seem to feel anything. There was a clatter and then a second of the pair of flintlock pistols appeared from the shadows, followed by Rand’s form. He still wore the broad-rimmed brown Stetson and the bandage around his head. His weapon was trained on the creature.

  Well, it’s about damned time. The cavalry’s always late these days, it seems!

  Veronica drew the golden gun from its sheath at her left breast and pointed it dead straight at Ida Averbach, but as she did that, the creature moved. And in a split second, so did she.

  I had been determined to do my job, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t. I just stood there frozen in bewilderment. Rand’s shot had dazed me and it kept me from reacting. It was Veronica who saved the day. She had the presence of mind to rush for me. Instead of attacking herself, she rushed at me and grabbed my hand. She made me bring up the sword and then pushed me forward.

  Rand’s pistol went off again as the creature moved for Belle once more. It looked like it wanted to hug her, but I knew that was not it at all. The bloody mouth was testament to that. It shook again and stopped. It did not seem wounded; it had just been shaken for a moment.

  Veronica pushed me and I reached down for the creature’s legs but it slapped my hand away and pursed its lips, making as though it would kiss me. For a moment, I saw Chelsea again and I was confused but the sight of the bloody mouth pulled me out of that confusion and as she turned and moved in for the killer kiss, I brought the sword up. I pushed it into her belly and for the first time, she reacted. She laughed.

  Then I saw Veronica raise her pistol toward the window side bench, but she had no target there anymore. The woman had gone.

  The creature screamed and raged before me and pushed herself further onto the blade. She came for me, and I saw its teeth bared before me.

  “The powder!” Veronica shouted at me.

  I stepped back and ripped the blade free. I fumbled the string of the bag and the razor-sharp blade, fearful of the teeth that came ever closer. I cut my finger on the sword’s edge, but managed to pull the string from the bag anyway. Not knowing what else to do, or how to reach below, I pulled the blade free with one hand and punched with the other pushing the open bag of powder at the creature’s belly. My hand sank into the gash made by the katana. And there was a scream.

  In shock, I ripped my hand out, leaving behind the small leather bag. And before me, I saw the final culmination of what had started in the ruins of the Pinewood Hotel. The creature’s hair turned gray and then white. Its skin wrinkled and turned yellow. Then there was another scream and a cloud of dust. Then there was nothing. Nothing but a pile of ashes on the floor. It was over.

  Ashes to ashes. Dust to dust, thought Veronica.

  Epilogue

  The Valley of Unrest

  By Edgar Allan Poe

  Once it smiled a silent dell

  Where the people did not dwell;

  They had gone unto the wars,

  Trusting to the mild-eyed stars,

  Nightly, from their azure towers,

  To keep watch above the flowers,

  In the midst of which all day

  The red sun-light lazily lay.

  Now each visitor shall confess

  The sad valley’s restlessness.

  Nothing there is motionless—

  Nothing save the airs that brood

  Over the magic solitude.

  Ah, by no wind are stirred those trees

  That palpitate like the chill seas

  Around the misty Hebrides!

  Ah, by no wind those clouds are driven

  That rustle through the unquiet Heaven

  Uneasily, from morn till even,

  Over the violets there that lie

  In myriad types of the human eye—

  Over the lilies there that wave

  And weep above a nameless grave!

  They wave:—from out their fragrant tops

  External dews come down in drops.

  They weep:—from off their delicate stems

  Perennial tears descend in gems.

  —Source: The Complete Poems and Stories of Edgar Allan Poe (1946)

  I could see the relief in Veronica’s face, yet it was marred with disappointment. I saw Rand come up to her, the flintlock pistol still in his hand. I could not hear what they said, but Veronica’s face fell and she looked down when he spoke to her. She touched the bandage on his head and spoke softly to him.

  Belle had sunk to the ground, so I went to her. I took her hand in mine and kissed it.

  “It’s over,” I told her and I saw her nod. She kept nodding, still unable to grasp all that had happened. But it was true, it was all over.

  We said goodbye to Veronica and Rand that evening. Veronica asked me whether she could use the car again, as it was mine. For the first time since she had come to my aid, I saw a genuine smile from her. I did not mind her taking the Jeep. Rand got behind the wheel and they drove off together.

  Belle and I stayed in a hotel that evening. I called someone to fix the window in the penthouse the next day and we s
tayed there for another week while we tried to decide what to do next. Belle was determined to return home and I did not want to stop her. Yet, I could do one thing for her. I wrote a check for her. I had always had money and I would make plenty more of it, but most certainly, I did not need all of it. The least I could do for her was to get her out of the trouble she had been in when we met. She left the next day.

  After Belle went back to Redding, I spent weeks moping around. I went back to work, but I did not feel right there. I went down to see my family, but their conversation could not soothe me. I spent time with Chelsea’s family, but they were distant and understandably so. They did not know exactly what had happened, but they knew enough to blame me for their daughter’s death. It was the only thing that seemed to make sense to them.

  In the end, I could not abide staying in Manhattan. I bought a new car and I drove to California. I went to Sacramento first. I found the mansion we had stayed in, but there was nobody there. Even the servants seemed to have disappeared, leaving the house and the grounds entirely deserted. I took to a motel and the morning after, I went straight to Redding.

  I had no hope of finding Belle Fox again really. I had not thought to ask her where she lived, or for her phone number or email address. I had known where she worked, but I had made sure she would not need to do that kind of labor again. All the same, I checked the truck stops; not surprisingly, she was not there. So I went to the only person in Redding I knew and also knew how to find.

  Amy Garcia was entertaining when I arrived at her door, but she made time for me when she was finished. We spent several hours drinking tea. She was doing well. She had not heard from Veronica at all though. The underground scuttlebutt had it that Julia Aggripina had told her to lay low for a little while. There had been a change in Veronica after those events, it seemed. She had become very calm and collected the last time Amy saw her, which was the day she returned to California. She had come north first, before going back to Los Angeles. She had left Rand with Amy, saying there was someone she needed to speak to and it was better Rand did not see that. The latest news, which wasn’t even known by the Watchers was that she was in an old hovel of hers under the ruins of the San Juan Capistrano Mission.

  But Amy had some other news for me as well. She told me that she and Belle had become good friends. She was currently in the mountain chalet, trying to figure out what to do with herself. It seemed she was in the same position I was, unable to carry on with life as it had been. Yet, she had one thing going for her now. She knew she was free to do as she wanted. I decided then that I could do nothing better than to do the same. I could do what I wanted and look for myself in peace and freedom. That was all I could ever want.

  ***

  For some reason, Walker Van Buren found himself on St. Maarten that summer after wandering through country after country.

  He did not know why he was there, really, but something had told him it was where he should be. He had time and freedom to do what he wanted so he packed a few things and flew off to paradise. He had half a mind to learn some Dutch there and then take a trip to the Benelux. Perhaps he would cross into the French side of the island as well and try and learn some of the language too. It would come in handy if he wanted to travel through Europe a bit more.

  On the second evening of his stay, he walked along the beach outside Philipsburg. It was time he thought about what he would do after his holiday in the sun was over. He could not keep wandering forever. Maybe he would settle down here, he figured. He had been in touch with Belle and she was still wondering about the future too. Amy Garcia had gotten her a gig as a secretary with one of her special friends, but she would be happy to escape Redding too.

  From the corner of his eye, Walker suddenly saw a familiar face. Or at least, he thought he did. He decided that he could never have seen who he thought he saw in the crowd that had walked past him. But then he saw the black clothes and the dark hair of one woman. He watched her gait and he knew it was her. He ran after her, losing his sandals in the process. He called her name and she turned. It was Veronica Melbourne.

  She took him to a bar on the Achterstraat. It seemed the owner catered to her needs and she had a deep claret drink while Walker sampled the lager. They sat in silence for a long time, not knowing what to say.

  “How did you end up here?” Walker eventually broke the silence.

  “Julia figured I needed some time off. She suggested this.”

  “You’re here alone?”

  Veronica nodded.

  “I am. I went with Rand and Björn to Canada, but I did not want to stay in the woods with them. Went as far as Québec and then went back to California. That’s when Julia told me she could put me up here.”

  “Why are they up there?”

  “I guess they needed a break too. And Rand can’t stay in L.A. for too long at a time. He shouldn’t even go there at all, really.”

  Walker drank some of his beer, trying to figure what to say.

  “So what have you been up to?”

  Really, Walker? What have I been UP to?

  Veronica smiled at the uneasy way he asked the question.

  “Thinking mainly. I realized something in the end.”

  “What did you realize?”

  Veronica took a sip of her drink too.

  “I think Björn explained it best before we said goodbye. He said the god Odin is the god of wisdom, but he’s also the god of insanity.” She looked at the blank wall. “He knows nearly everything in the world, but it drives him mad. That’s what happened to me too.”

  “How so?”

  Veronica smiled.

  “I realized that night that I can’t fight all battles. I can know everything there is to know, I can know so much about the enemies of our world, about the people who are after me and about so many other creatures and dangers. But I can’t do anything about them. I can do what I have to, but I cannot change what I have no control over.”

  It took Walker some time to take that in. A full glass, in fact.

  “So what about Ida Averbach?”

  Veronica shrugged.

  “She’s still at large, but I don’t know where. I don’t care really, as long as she leaves me alone; which she has done so far. And we’ve heard no news of her posing a danger to anyone. So I can’t worry about it. She’ll come back into my sights at some time.”

  “And then?”

  Another shrug.

  “We’ll see about that when it happens.”

  The End

  I hoped you enjoyed

  The Huntress Trilogy

  Thank you for reading!

  Also Available:

  Ghost Town

  The Ghost Files Book #6

  by

  Chanel Smith

  (read on for a sample)

  Chapter One

  The bonus week in London that Ellen and I received wasn’t nearly as comfortable as our stay had been up until that point. Initially, it was downright frightening. With Dr. Henry Agness Wandsworth missing and Ellen and me the last to have seen him alive, we were invited off the plane by representatives of Scotland Yard in order to answer some questions. My mind raced forward to Sherlock Holmes and Watson grilling us and discovering that we were certifiably nuts.

  To be sure, we were thoroughly grilled, especially since we had been seen in the company of Henry by a very large number of people. Explaining what we had been doing in London and why Henry was accompanying us didn’t help matters and I was pretty certain that we would be permanent residents of London’s psych ward until our employer, Transport for London, stepped in on our behalf and gave the police an explanation of the service that we had provided and our innocence in the matter.

  Though for police officers, they were very polite, Scotland Yard wasn’t as concerned about our comfort as Transport For London had been, though we did take advantage of the time to tour a little bit more of the adjacent areas that we had missed. Eventually satisfied that we were not directly
involved in Henry’s disappearance, we were finally allowed to board a plane and return home.

  Heading home was certainly a relief, but I was beginning to wonder about our status of wealthy international ghost hunters being in jeopardy. The sum that TFL paid for our services had boosted us into wealthy ghost hunter status for a moment, but we’d already had to dip into some of it to cover airline change fees and extra days in the hotel.

  “It feels so good to finally be home in our own bed,” Ellen muttered and then sighed heavily as she arranged the pillows behind her back to prop herself up and take the mug of coffee that I offered her. “Thank you, sweetie.”

  It was much later in the morning than we were used to getting up and having our coffee. The jet lag was horrible after such a long trip and though we had tried our best to sleep on the plane, in reality, there was no way to get any real sleep on a plane.

  “So, got any plans for the day?” I asked. There was really only one thing on my mind, but I needed to feel out her state of mind first.

  “Let me guess, you want some chocolate pancakes.” She smiled.

  Ellen’s talent communicating with ghosts was second only to her ability to read my mind. I often wondered if the two went hand in hand. “But only if you’re up for it,” I responded.