Would you believe it? It’s not just in their eyes; a vampire can turn red.
“About what?” she demanded. “What personal things?”
I tried to appear gentlemanly, discretionary. “You know, about you and him…” I couldn’t help myself, made a circle with thumb and index on my left hand, drove the big finger of my right through it.
Alicia flamed brighter. “That is an absolute absurdity!”
I shrugged. “Well. As I said, Sid was kind of a blowhard.” Then, on the brink of safety, I blew the whole thing: “Not that I’d blame him, you being such a knock-out and all.”
Alicia’s expression shifted again. From anger back to suspicion.
What a shmuck.
“Mister, ah—“
I tossed my head affably. “Please, call me ‘Ed.’”
“Mister Ed—“
“Well, not like the horse. I’d prefer, ‘Magee’, or just’ Ed’.”
“Are you saying that during the course of his visit, Sid initiated you? You’re a vampire now?”
Right back where I started from.
Shmuck and double shmuck.
And not a peep from the damn radio.
“Proud to be a member,” I beamed, having no clue where I was headed with this except where I’d already been in Mitzi’s radio show- which included no head at all. Neck wounds! Puncture marks! Next she’d ask to see the puncture marks! Think of something!
“You’d still have the puncture marks, then,” Alicia purred.
“Pardon me?” Stalling. Again.
“Sid’s fang marks in your neck, you’d still bear them, traces at least. I don’t seem to see any.”
I nodded, drinking fast. Thinking seriously of asking for another. “And there’s a very good reason for that,” I informed her, not yet having divined what it was myself.
Alicia’s smiled widened at the rustle of the other guests closing in behind her, and around me. “Well. Mr. Magee?”
She reached up for my collar just like in Mitzi’s little radio drama but I caught her wrist. Yeah, she could have wrenched away easily, probably leaving livid nail marks, but all of a sudden I felt a bold anger…and I didn’t feel like having my shirt torn off again. Still, I had to say something.
“He didn’t bite me on the neck,” I told her evenly, squeezing her wrist for emphasis, feeling her terrible strength behind it but a little doubt in there, too. Alicia’s eyes shone for an instant but she retracted her hand. “Where did he bite you, then?”
I shrugged complacently. “You know ole Sid, kind of an ass kisser.”
I thought it was terribly funny. Terribly clever.
Everyone else in the tightening room just stared at me. A fang or two might have appeared amid the crowd, I don’t recall exactly.
“Mr. Magee,” Alicia pursed her full lips suspiciously, “are you telling us Mr. Mathers bit you on the ass?”
I set down my drink with a sigh. “I’m still learning a lot about being a vampire,” I announced to the group, “but maybe you all could learn something from humans. Get a sense of humor. It isn’t a terrible thing, and it’s stone free. Of course he didn’t bite me on the ass!”
I was feeling pretty much in charge now, going down the right path, had it under control. Even if the others were getting restless, the mayor was definitely showing a bit of incisor now.
“He bit me on the back,” I informed them off-handedly.
It made sense, sort of. At least I thought at the time it did. There had been a struggle around my little living room, quite a struggle, scratches and abrasions were made, some of the ones on my back still painful. A scratch could cover—and by extension—hide a bite mark. Right? Worked for me.
Alicia made an expectant O of her lovely mouth and nodded. “I see. On your back.”
“That’s it.”
“Uh-huh. May we see it, please?”
I was afraid she’d say that.
I was screwing myself up to my best impertinent look when there was sudden movement from the back of the room. Someone was heading for the front door, striding angrily, actually. It was the comely Miss Cummings.
Alicia heard the soft footfalls on her carpet (she could have heard the footfalls of a mouse, I think, may have even engaged in chasing vermin in her spare time—probably playing with before devouring them) and turned to the pretty strawberry blonde lady gliding past the other guests indignantly.
“Clancy?”
Miss Cummings paused at the door handle, snapped her head around. “I’m out of here! This is absolutely insufferable behavior! Apparently I was misinformed!”
Alicia, clearly upset herself, strained to get around the portly mayor. “What is it, Clancy dear? I’m only—“
“You’re embarrassing this poor man to death! And making asses of yourselves in the process--and a sham of this meeting! I was told this was a sophisticated group. A modern, progressive sect! Clearly I received some misguided advice!”
I stood there a little stupefied. Was this terrific-looking woman inadvertently saving my butt?
Alicia was clearly upset, maybe even embarrassed. Whatever her connection to the Cummings woman was, she didn’t want her leaving in a huff. “Clancy, I can assure you—“
“I very much doubt that! But if you’re half the group of cultured intellectuals I’ve been led to believe, you can begin setting things right again by letting this young man—perhaps the single vampire here with a modicum of taste and who, as I understand it, had the courtesy to return that fat, mangy mutt of yours—“
“Who’s fat?” from the radio.
“—let this young man leave with what remains of his dignity! You might also consider an apology for wasting his valuable time, unless, of course, that’s quite beneath you!” She looked past the others in my direction. “He’s welcome to accompany me if he wishes!”
Alicia was actually something close to being flustered. “Clancy, really, dear, there’s no need for—I’m sure no one meant any--“
“There are other sects!” Miss Cummings retorted with unbroken rhythm, “in other, more cosmopolitan locales.” Ouch.
Alicia was momentarily speechless.
“Chicago, for instance!” Miss Cummings continued. “Home to one of the newer territories, I believe! The more contemporary sects! Commanded by who I believe is described as a very charismatic young man! Ivan Kolchek, isn’t it, Alicia? One of your former devotees?”
I think maybe that was even a double ouch but I had no idea who Ivan was.
Alicia went even whiter than normal. Then quickly got it together again before the others, smiled convivially, and had the old purr back in her voice. “Clancy. Dear. Really, I was merely—“
“I think we should put it to a vote,” from the elderly Miss Portman.
Everyone looked at me.
I smiled companionably at Miss Portman like I had no problem with the idea. The old bitch.
“Yes,” Bill Benson chimed in, “a vote! Good idea! If Mr. Magee has no objections, of course!”
I shrugged affably, crumbling inside. “No objections here!”
“Good!” Benson confirmed. “Those who would like to see Mr. Magee remove his shirt will please raise their—“
“Oh, for Godsake!” Miss Cummings snapped.
She snatched an empty martini glass from a settee, dragged up a sleeve of her blouse and bit her own wrist. Hard. Double ouch.
As the blood began to well, she held the pumping wrist over the glass stiffly, then jerked her pretty eyes at the group in defiance. “Do you mind!” like an innocent someone caught on the potty. The group turned a demure eye.
Miss Cummings finished, strutted around the sofa folding a napkin around her wrist in a make-shift bandage. She came before me without hesitation, straight-armed the martini glass at my face, its interior now sluggish with red liquid. “Here, Mr. Magee! Please humor our guests and their ungracious host!”
I stared at the bloody glass numbly…the crimson map lining the inner
rim. “Uh…”
“Drink it, please, Mr. Magee. I know how you must feel, but apparently in order to satisfy these rubes—“
“Really,” from a flustered Alicia, “it isn’t necessary—“
“Just drink the damn thing!” Miss Cummings spat.
I downed it in two gulps.
Great.
So now I was a vampire. Are there medical benefits? I wondered.
I swallowed again thickly, willing the stuff to stay down.
Miss Cummings snatched the empty glass from me before Alicia could give me a suspicious look, took my arm and pulled me toward the front door, casting a last withering look over her shoulder at Alicia.
Alicia tried to shoulder her way to us but old Miss Portman got in her way. “Clancy, please…”
“Lovely gathering!” Clancy told the group icily at the door, “So nice to meet you all, and”—she glanced at our hostess sourly--“best of luck!”
“Clancy!” Alicia was still trying to maneuver around Mrs. Portman. “I do hope there won’t be any…in the Chicago area, I mean…”
“Good-night, Alicia.”
And Miss Cummings pulled me into the night.
EIGHT
“Care to even guess how close that was?” Miss Cummings asked from the passenger seat of my ancient Chevy. She’d arrived at the party in a cab.
“Was close?” I glanced at her. “I just drank your blood. Doesn’t that mean I am or soon will begin to sprout fangs and become a full-fledged—“
“Vegetarian, Mr. Magee. That’s the worst that would come of it. It was tomato juice in that glass.”
I brightened behind the wheel. “You know I thought it tasted familiar! Back there I almost said so out loud—“
“I know. I’m so glad you didn’t. Not to quick on the uptake, are you, Ed?”
I slumped behind the wheel. “How do you know I’m not Bill Sutter?”
She made an exasperated sound and wrinkled her pert nose. “Everybody back there knew you weren’t Bill Sutter.”
I suppressed a small shiver. “Really? Onto me from the start, huh?”
“Waiting for the two of you to arrive. Eventually.”
I nodded, covering another shudder. “Which means they’re onto Mitzi, too.”
Miss Cummings shrugged, shaking strawberry blonde curls. “In the sense she’s a way smarter than average…”
“Poodle.”
She turned to me. “Pardon?”
“She prefers being referred to as a poodle.”
Pretty Miss Cummings frowned at me. “That dog is not remotely a poodle.”
I thought I detected mild distaste. “Well, that’s what she claims.”
Miss Cummings looked back at the street ahead. “Whatever. Anyway, yes, in the sense she’s aware she has a very smart dog, Alicia is on to her. But none of them, including Alicia, knows the dog’s a Reader.”
I nodded. “Except you. The only other Reader at the party.”
“Maybe you’re not so dumb after all.”
“Thank you. Why are you doing this, anyway? Aren’t you one of them?”
Her eyes went suddenly icy. “I am not one of them, Mr. Magee! Let’s be very clear on that! I am not at all one of them!”
I shrank a little in the seat. “Okay…”
Miss Cummings craned back as if checking the road behind us. “I’m undercover, like you.”
“Oh.”
Nice to know I was undercover, not being aware of it till that moment.
I sat there behind the wheel, guiding us through dark neighborhood streets and wondered if she could read my mind right then. Can you read my mind?
I glanced over at her.
She looked back. “What--?”
“Nothing. I just asked if you could read my thoughts right now. In my head.”
She looked back at the road. “It’s not the simple. You have to open up.”
“Open up?”
She nodded. “Think about reading someone’s thoughts, concentrate on it, and whoever you’re reading. Winnow out the surrounding interference. It takes practice. I mean, if we walked around opened up all the time we’d be gibbering idiots--bombarded from every side.”
“I see. Sort of like radar.”
“Close enough.”
“So. Are all Readers like that?”
“Well, clearly you’re not. You’re what we call a Selective. Not everyone gets through on your wavelength.”
“Interesting.”
“Yes.” She nodded a wry smile at the night. “I’m afraid you’re about to discover a lot of things about yourself and the world in general you’d considering interesting. Not all of them pleasant.”
I chewed on that one a moment. “Are…most like me?”
“No, some walk around opened up all the time. You can find most of them at the state mental hospital. Can we concentrate on where we’re going now?”
I nodded. “Where are we going?”
“After your…animal, of course. Turn right here…”
I turned. We were coming up on a series of warehouses, all the windows black. “Can you hear Mitzi now?”
“Can you?”
“No. Not since the radio.” I reached out reflexively and snapped on the dash radio, twisting the dial. “Said she was in the trunk of a car somewhere...”
Nothing but music and news came up.
Miss Cummings snapped it off. “Was in the trunk. Probably not anymore.”
“You know why they took her?”
“Yes. They took her to kill her. For being such a smart dog. And the fact that neither of us has received a recent transmission from her lately means they’ve probably completed their task.”
I was silent a moment, feeling more sad than sick. “Alicia’s task.”
“You got it.”
“I brought the poor dog to her death…”
Miss Cummings sighed. “If I know Mitzi she brought herself. She seems the smarter of the two of you.”
“Are you always this flattering, Miss Cummings?”
That made her pause longer than I’d have thought. “Occasionally. Under certain circumstances.”
“Like?”
“When I’m nervous, for one.”
“And for another?”
I didn’t think she was going answer for a moment. “When I’m…attracted to someone. Sometimes.”
I felt a shocked thrill. This beautiful creature was attracted to me? Is that what she was saying? I peeked askance at her, but she was turned away, scanning the row of warehouses out her side window. Maybe she didn’t mean me. Maybe someone at the party. No, only vampires at the party. Maybe someone she was dating.
Are you dating anyone? I almost asked. Instead, I said, “You said before ‘if I know Mitzi, she brought herself.’ Do you know Mitzi?”
“I know women.”
I resisted the urge to turn the radio knob again.
Miss Cummings glanced at me. “She isn’t sending now.”
“Meaning she’s dead.”
“Or unconscious. Look, I know you’re attached to her, Mr. Magee, but speculating about things right now it isn’t going to do any good.”
“How do you know I’m attached to her? Oh. Right.”
She pointed out the windshield. “Turn right and stop before that hurricane fence.”
My low beams caught the hexagons of woven steel. I made out a section of gate, the length of chain wrapped about it. “There’s a lock on the gate.”
“There’s always a lock on it,” she said, opening her side, “doesn’t mean it’s locked.” She hesitated, one slim leg already out the door, looked back at me. “Did you bring a gun?”
“Me? No.”
She shook her head, sighed patiently. “I take it all back. The dog’s definitely smarter than you.”
She got out, pointed down at my glaring headlights and I killed them.
She came around the front fender to the gate, took the big Dexter lock in her hand and pulled. It came
free, the hasp apparently not connected, as she’d surmised. She began slowly, not to make any squeaks, easing the big hurricane gate open. When it was just wide enough for my car, she motioned me through, came around and bent down to my window. “Park over there by those two cars.”
“What is this place? Whose cars?”
“The cars of the guys who are killing your dog.”
“Vampires?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. Local thugs. Far beneath vampire stuff.”
‘Vampire stuff,’ I thought, nosed beside one of the cars—a dark, older Honda--parked quickly, got out, pushed the door closed gently again. Miss Cummings was facing the dark expanse of the nearest warehouse.
I joined her. “Listen. I can’t keep calling you Miss Cummings.”
She didn’t turn from studying the warehouse. “You could, actually.”
I didn’t know how to answer that.
“Clancy, then.”
“I’m Ed.”
“I know.”
“Right. Sorry.”
She was pulling a small dark gun from her purse. An automatic. A Glock, I thought. She handed it to me. “Take it.”
“Wait, what if you need it--?”
“Take it.” And she turned on her heel and started for a small concrete porch and steel door illuminated by a single overhead bulb on the nearest block of warehouses. I shoved the gun in my belt, hustled to keep up with her. I started to say something but she turned to me, finger pressed to her lips. It made them dimple in a nice way.
She frowned. “What’s the matter?”
I shrugged innocence. “Nothing! Why?”
“You’re looking at me funny.”
“I am? ‘Funny’ how?”
“I don’t know…funny. What’s the matter?”
“Nothing!”
“Are you pissed because I said you were dumber than the dog?”
“No. I mean…not really.”
“You think I’m a bossy bitch, that it?”
“No!”
“I’m just trying to get your dog back.”
“I don’t—look. I think you’re fine. Great.”
She hesitated a moment, then returned her attention to the warehouse.
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