The Book of Death

by AnonYMous

  ‘Never mind about that,’ he said wiping his face. ‘Next time just don’t take so long to get down here.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Flake. ‘I shudder to think what might have happened if I hadn’t found this book. We might both be dead by now.’

  She had a point. The discovery of the book was a stroke of incredibly good fortune. ‘What’s the deal with that book anyway?’ Sanchez asked aloud.

  ‘Maybe vampires are allergic to books?’ Flake suggested.

  ‘She was a librarian.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yeah. That woman’s had her filthy hands on every book in the city. So I figure that one you just dropped on her must be a bit special. A book that kills vampires, eh? It could be worth a fortune. We could auction it on eBay!’

  Flake clearly disagreed. The look on her face said as much. ‘If it’s really a deadly weapon that kills vampires I think I’d rather keep quiet about it. Ulrika was looking for a book and she was willing to kill you for it. Let me do some research on the Internet to see if I can find anything out about this book. The last thing we need is more librarians coming down here!’

  She had a point. ‘This is a worry,’ said Sanchez. ‘It’s dark outside. Vampires could be all over the city. Maybe something big is about to go down?’

  Flake grimaced. ‘If that’s the case, then this book might be the most important thing in the world. Let’s keep it to ourselves for now.’

  Thirteen

  In spite of what appearances might suggest, Silvinho was a great lover of culture and the arts. A giant of a man dressed in military gear and sporting a six-inch high pink mohawk haircut, he certainly didn’t look like your typical art lover. But having just recently completed the latest Shadow Company mission, one that involved gunning down and beheading the Bourbon Kid, he wanted to take in the sights at the Santa Mondega Museum of Art and History before he and his team left town. Life as a mercenary suited him just fine. He’d spent years in war zones killing men behind enemy lines, often going months at a time without seeing a piece of art. Fortunately his new role as a mercenary travelling the world with his Shadow Company comrades allowed him the chance to sample the best art that the world had to offer, in between beheading the odd person here and there.

  He was in one of the museum’s many art halls admiring a magnificent colourful Eugene Delacroix painting of a young lady when his cell phone rang. The display on the phone indicated that the call was from his boss, Bull, so he answered it without hesitation.

  ‘Hey, what’s up boss?’

  ‘You seen the news?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well it turns out that the guy we beheaded last night wasn’t the Bourbon Kid. We got the wrong guy.’

  ‘Who did we kill?’

  ‘Just some freak who looked a bit like him.’

  Silvinho grimaced. ‘Oh dear. It’s a pity we didn’t notice that before we shot him and cut his head off.’

  ‘Yeah well, I’m over it already. Where are you now? I need you back here at the Casa de Ville.’

  Silvinho took a look around at the paintings on the wall to remind himself he was in a place of great beauty. ‘I’m just at the museum. Got some lovely paintings here.’

  ‘Is that the Art and History museum?’

  ‘Yeah. Why is there another one around here?’

  ‘No. But according to the news the Bourbon Kid showed up there just after two o’clock this morning and killed the museum’s manager.’

  ‘Oh. Want me to ask around here? See if anyone knows anything about it?’

  ‘Yeah. Ask to see if they have any security camera footage of the killing. And find out if he had a motive to kill the manager there. It might be a clue that leads us to him, or his next victim.’

  ‘Sure thing boss. Anything else?’

  ‘Just give me a call if you find anything out. If you don’t then just head back to base.’

  ‘Will do. Later.’

  Silvinho hung up the phone and took one last look at the Delacroix painting before reluctantly heading back to the reception area.

  In the reception hall he saw a security guard with a badly swollen nose and a pair of black eyes. The guard looked like he’d had a pretty bad day so far and was ready to go home. He was the perfect guy to interrogate.

  ‘Excuse me,’ said Silvinho, approaching him. He glanced at the guard’s security badge. ‘James,’ he announced. ‘My name is Silvinho. I’m from the U.S Special Forces. I understand the Bourbon Kid dropped by here last night. Is that correct?’

  The guard’s response was less than enthusiastic. ‘You got any ID?’ he asked.

  ‘Sure.’ Silvinho reached inside his coat and grabbed his wallet. He opened it and pulled out a plastic ID card. He handed it over to James who took it and eyed it suspiciously.

  ‘How do I know this is real?’ he asked.

  ‘I could render you unconscious in about three seconds flat, if you like? Would that validate me?’

  James looked as though he wanted to dare him to back up the threat with actions, but after gently rubbing his broken nose he handed the card back to Silvinho.

  ‘I’ll take you to Elijah Simmonds’s office. He can answer any questions you have. He’s already told the police everything though, and given them a copy of the CCTV footage.’

  ‘You have CCTV footage?’

  ‘Yep. If the boss okays it, I’ll make you a copy.’

  Silvinho smiled and slapped his right hand down on James’s shoulder, squeezing it hard. ‘I’ll tell you what,’ he said. ‘How about you direct me to your boss’s office and while I’m there you can get me a copy of the footage, you know, to save time.’

  He squeezed James’s shoulder just a tiny bit harder, which was all it took for the security guard to agree to the proposition.

  ‘Just head right down that corridor,’ said James pointing the way. At the end of it you’ll see Simmonds’s office. You can’t miss it. It’s got his name on the door.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll see you there shortly.’

  Silvinho released his grip on the other man’s shoulder and made his way down to Elijah Simmonds’s office. Sure enough it was exactly where James had indicated it would be. He knocked twice on the door and then turned the doorknob to open it without waiting for Simmonds to answer. The door opened inwards and he was greeted by the sight of Elijah Simmonds sitting behind a desk with a laptop computer in front of him. He looked startled at the sight of a giant soldier with a pink mohawk striding in.

  ‘Can I help you?’ he asked.

  ‘You Simmonds?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’m Silvinho. I work for Special Forces. Come about the Bourbon Kid. Mind if I ask you a few questions?’

  Simmonds spun his laptop around. ‘The Bourbon Kid,’ he said pointing at a face on the computer screen. ‘You mean this guy?’

  Silvinho stared at the screen. ‘Is that him?’ he asked.

  ‘Yep,’ said Simmonds.

  ‘The picture’s not very good is it?’

  ‘No. But it’s good enough that I recognize him as a man who was in this office just a few minutes ago.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just fired his girlfriend and he came down here to berate me for it. He tried to cause a scene and ended up embarrassing himself.’

  ‘The Bourbon Kid has a girlfriend?’

  ‘Yes. And in exchange for the reward they’re offering on the television for information that leads to the arrest of the Bourbon Kid, I’ll gladly give you her home address.’

  Silvinho pulled bone-handled knife from inside his jacket. The blade was almost a foot long and had serrated edges. He ran his index finger along the smooth part of the blade and eyeballed Simmonds.

  The museum’s manager looked deeply concerned. ‘There’s no need for any violence,’ he said nervously. ‘I just want the reward that’s advertised.’

  ‘Forget the reward,’ Silvinho snarled. ‘Just give me the address, or I’ll cut your fucking balls off.’r />
  Fourteen

  Beth stared out of the car window at the sleet and snow shooting down from the sky outside. Since the thunderstorm from the night before had ended, the snowfall had been relentless and had settled two inches thick on the ground. The clouds that had formed overhead were the darkest she had ever seen and they seemed to cover the whole sky. Occasional intermittent shafts of sunlight slipped through between clouds here and there, but generally Santa Mondega had become a city bathed in darkness overnight.

  Being driven slowly through the icy streets in JD’s super cool black V8 Interceptor made her feel like a teenager again. This is what the pair of them should have been doing in their high school years. Going for drives in his car, taking walks along the pier and just generally hanging out and having fun.

  Nothing in her life ever worked out as she planned though, and now that she found herself without a job, she worried that she wouldn’t be able to pay the rent on her apartment. She could probably survive for a few weeks, but then what? Ask JD to help out with the rent? Or ask him to move in? Or move in with him? Where did he live anyway? He wasn’t very clear on where he’d been and what he’d been doing for the last eighteen years. Travelling mostly, he’d claimed, and left it pretty much at that.

  The car radio had been playing Christmas songs for the whole journey, inter-spliced with news updates, one of which announced that the Bourbon Kid was still alive. It seemed that to alleviate all the bad news, the local radio station had jumped into an early festive mood brought on by the sight of the snow, even though it was only one day after Halloween.

  JD hadn’t spoken since the song Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas by Judy Garland began playing. As the song was coming to an end, the deejay’s voice spoke over it. Beth recognised him as Mad Harry Hunter, a local radio star with an annoying knack of dragging out every word. He interrupted the end of the song with an announcement that the police were hiring new recruits and paying them a handsome daily rate until new cops could be drafted in from out of town.

  Beth considered the possibilities of becoming a cop. ‘Maybe I should try out for the police force?’ she suggested, hoping to gauge JD’s thoughts on the matter before committing to it.

  ‘Fuck the police. Bunch of corrupt fuckers,’ he muttered, not taking his eyes off the icy road ahead.

  The uneven road they were on was covered in icy puddles and littered with potholes, many of which were hidden under patches of snow and ice, making the road even more dangerous than usual. It didn’t help that cars were parked on either side of the road, leaving little room for manoeuvring around the hazards. The only blessing was that there was hardly any other traffic about.

  ‘They’re pretty desperate by the sounds of it though,’ Beth carried on. ‘And I’m out of work now. It could be worth doing for a few days, at least.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  He seemed disinterested but she carried on regardless. ‘A lot of officers were killed by the Bourbon Kid last night. The streets aren’t really safe without a visible display of law enforcement.’

  ‘Those cops got what they deserved.’

  There was something about the way JD spoke that revealed a real lack of compassion for the dead officers and their families. He seemed to be missing the point that even though some of the dead might have been bad people, they still might have young kids or partners who would be suffering. Her thoughts turned to Bertram Cromwell again momentarily.

  ‘And Cromwell? Did he get what he deserved?’ she asked.

  ‘Who knows?’

  ‘The answer is no,’ she snapped. JD seemed so distant suddenly, as if he weren’t really listening. ‘I hope the Bourbon Kid gets caught and they stick him in the electric chair!’

  ‘Shut up a minute,’ said JD, twisting a knob on the radio to turn up the volume.

  Beth caught the end of Harry Hunter announcing that there was a development in the Bourbon Kid case.

  “The local news has obtained some video footage of the Bourbon Kid taken from the police station last night. We urge everyone to check out the footage on the local news or on our Radio SM website. Anyone who spots the man in the picture is advised to steer clear and call the Bourbon Kid hotline. The number is…’

  JD switched off the radio before Harry Hunter could read out the number.

  ‘Wow,’ said Beth. ‘I’m going to check that out when I get home. I wonder what he looks like?’

  ‘Probably looks like everyone else in this town,’ said JD. ‘Black and white camera footage is a waste of time.’

  ‘Even so. I’d still like to see the face of the man who murdered Cromwell last night.’

  JD seemed agitated. He rubbed his chin and took a moment to respond. ‘You know what,’ he said. ‘Now that you’re out of a job why don’t we just get the hell out of this place? Leave today. Right now.’

  Beth was taken aback by the suddenness of the suggestion. ‘What? Leave Santa Mondega altogether?’

  ‘Yeah. I only came back here for you. Now that you have no ties to this place, there’s nothing to stop you and me from moving away, starting a new life somewhere else. Somewhere with no fucking vampires for starters.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah. Unless you can think of a good reason to stay?’

  Beth loved the idea. Leaving Santa Mondega and travelling the world seeing different places with JD had been a distant dream less than twenty four hours ago, but now that dream could become very real. ‘Well, when were you thinking of leaving?’ she asked.

  ‘No time like now.’

  ‘That would be great, but my landlord needs four weeks notice before I move out.’

  ‘Fuck your landlord. You can’t pay him if you’re in New Mexico.’

  ‘We’re going to New Mexico?’

  ‘We could do. We can go wherever you want, babe. Anywhere’s better than here.’

  ‘That’s true enough.’

  JD pulled the car over. They had arrived at the apartment block Beth lived in. He stopped the car by the kerb right outside the entrance and turned the engine off. He looked at her, his face revealing he was deadly serious. ‘Yeah. Go pack up your clothes and essentials and I’ll pick you up in an hour.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m gonna go get my shit together then I’ll be back.’

  He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, a slow lingering kiss that made up her mind for her. ‘Come on, before I change my mind,’ he said.

  ‘You sure? Really?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘I’ll need more than an hour to pack though.’

  JD sighed. ‘What have you got that you’re gonna need on the road? You can leave most of your stuff behind. Just bring the basics and the sentimental stuff you can’t live without.’

  Beth smiled and kissed him back. ‘I suppose, most of my furniture either belongs to the landlord or isn’t worth much anyway.’

  ‘Great,’ said JD. ‘It’s agreed then. Start packing straight away. No time to make coffee or watch TV right? Just pack and let’s be gone within an hour.’

  ‘Okay. One hour.’

  ‘If you’re not ready when I get here, I’m leaving without you.’

  Beth reached into a pocket on the front of her jeans and pulled out the small cloth he had given her earlier that morning. ‘I’ve still got this, remember?’ she said, smiling.

  JD’s eyes settled on the cloth. His face revealed a look of sadness. It passed all too briefly, replaced by a smile, but Beth had seen it and sensed something was wrong. ‘What is it?’ she asked.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Is there something I should know about this cloth patch? You looked kind of sad then for a second.’

  He smiled. ‘It’s okay. It’s kinda silly really. My brother Casper made it for me. He wasn’t too great at making anything and he was real pleased with himself when he made that.’

  Beth unfolded the cloth again and looked at the stitching on the letters JD. It was a little amateuris
h, but knowing that it was of personal value added to its charm. ‘How is your brother these days?’ she asked. ‘I never got to meet him, did I?’

  ‘He was murdered.’

  ‘Oh my God! I’m so sorry. What happened?’

  ‘I’d rather not talk about it. But that cloth, that’s the only thing I have to prove he ever existed. Everything else is gone. No photos, nothing.’

  Beth felt a lump in her throat and was overwhelmed with guilt at having brought the subject up. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, glancing awkwardly at the cloth in her hands.

  ‘It’s okay,’ said JD. He leaned over and stroked her cheek. ‘Now you know why I’ll always come back to you if you’ve got that piece of cloth. Make sure you take good care of it.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’

  ‘Good.’ He glanced in the rear view mirror momentarily, as if he’d seen something moving behind them. ‘Now hurry up. You’ve got one hour, remember.’

  Beth opened the door to get out of the car. ‘I’ll be ready,’ she said slipping the cloth patch back in her pocket.

  She stepped out into the sleet and snow and slammed the car door shut behind her. Then she ran up the front steps that led to her apartment block. Through the darkened skies she took a long look up at the building she had lived in for the last eight months. It was a drab, depressing six storey grey building. Not a place she would miss when she left town. As the sleet lashed down against her face and hands she fumbled around in her pocket for her keys. She pulled them out and held them up, waving them towards JD’s car to let him know she had found them and was heading inside. He obviously saw the gesture because he started up the engine on his car. A second later she watched his V8 Interceptor pull away from the kerb and cruise off down the road. She slipped the key in the lock on the front door of the apartment block and turned it. Beneath the noise of the sleet crashing against the windows, she barely heard the click as the door unlocked. She pushed it open and stepped inside into the cold entrance hall.

  It wasn’t the most inviting entrance hall around. It had hardwood flooring and there was an old fashioned stairway on the right with a dirty yellow carpet on it. The stairs were extremely steep so she was never keen to use them because her apartment was all the way up on the fourth floor. So even though the unreliable old elevator at the end of the hall was a potential death trap, she headed over to it and pressed the button.