B005N1TFVG EBOK

by Bruce Elliot Jones

  I heard Clancy scream, turned to see her crash roughly against the headboard, splintering wood, the invader’s black gloves ripping greedily at her blouse. She spit and kicked like a wildcat but he was like a dark mountain across her, obliterating my view.

  I cried out to her, tried to push up, but thirteen inches of black engineer boot slammed me back into the motel carpet.

  In the grinning half =mask above me I thought I recognized something in the bright, leering eyes: the Cigar Guy from the warehouse. He lifted the pike above me.

  “But we killed you…” I muttered astonishment.

  He chuckled gravel. “Can’t kill what’s dead, half-breed!”

  And the pike descended, tore through shoulder flesh, muscle and bone to scrape the carpet under me.

  “Missed, damnit…”

  I screamed, spraying a mist of black blood as the pike jerked free and came down into my heart. I jumped like a gigged frog. The big goon grinned under his mask, hunkered down and got right in my face. “You hybrids are hard to kill!”

  An ebon curtain was descending...

  He slapped my face. “Hey! Open your eyes! You hear me?”

  Somewhere to my left, between the red smear of motel wall and floor, the mangled mess that was Mitzi said: “I don’t think that’s helping.”

  “What do you know about it?” Cigar Guy grunted.

  “More than you, apparently. Try kissing him…”

  Two minutes or two hours passed, I couldn’t be sure.

  But the ebon curtain lifted a little.

  “I mean it! Try kissing him!”

  “Don’t be absurd,” Cigar Guy told the dog, “that isn’t going to help.”

  “You want to help? Try thinking like a woman for once.”

  Cigar Guy sighed, finally bent and pressed his mouth to mine.

  I blinked. Cigar Guy wobbled like a desert heat wave…became Clancy, hovering close, eyes bright with concern.

  “Did you use your tongue?”

  “Shut up, Mitzi!” she said. Then cupped my cheek gently. “Hey? Eddie? You back?”

  She helped me up on the bed, adjusted the motel pillow under my head, thrust a steaming cup into my trembling hand. I sloshed coffee, winced. “Ow.”

  “Sorry. Can you hold that?”

  “Not terrific with the bedside manner, huh?” from Mitzi, and her weight hit the mattress beside me. But I couldn’t take my eyes off Clancy. That glorious spill of spun-golden-red hair, those depthless eyes.

  “What happened? Did I faint?”

  She smiled relief. “Sort of. For a moment. Residual from the treatment. It can cause nightmares sometimes. Can you drink some of that coffee for me?”

  “Maybe. For another kiss.”

  She colored, tried to look pragmatic, failed. Finally bent to kiss me lightly again. My hand closed over the nape of her neck and held fast until I felt her tongue this time.

  “Okay!” from an impatient Mitzi, “that’ll do! We’re trying to revive him, not pump his stomach!”

  Clancy pulled back, pretty face still analytically composed but softened, eyes a little gratifyingly misty. She cleared her throat. “Now. Drink.”

  I took a sip.

  “All of it. It’s late, we have to get going.”

  I nodded. “One more kiss, first.”

  “Oh God, this is making me sick!” Mitzi rose, stepped painfully on my chest with all four paws, swished her tail in my face and jumped from the bed. “I’m going outside to pee.”

  Clancy turned sharply. “No! Save it! We’ll need all you’ve got!” She looked down anxiously at her watch, then over at the darkening window shade. “It’s nearly sundown!” She turned expectantly to me. “We have to get going before they wake up! Are you steady enough yet? Can you walk?”

  I looked up at her dreamily. “You’re very beautiful,” I said.

  She rolled her eyes heavenward. “This is never going to work,” she groaned.

  “Why don’t you try another ice bath?” Mitzi chided from the door.

  Clancy fumed down at me. “Where did you ever find such a smug little beast?”

  “I heard that!” from across the room. And a moment later: “Mick bitch.”

  * * *

  We sat in the parked car under leafy evening shadows across the street from Alicia’s shop, waiting for her to close; me at the wheel, Clancy at shotgun, Mitzi in the back.

  “I really have to pee,” she moaned.

  “Just hold it,” I told her.

  “I can’t! Did you have to park under a tree?”

  “The only other empty spot was a fireplug,” Clancy told her.

  Mitzi groaned. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Irish? She’s enjoying this, Ed! She’s feasting on my pain with her sharp Catholic incisors.”

  “Quit whining,” from Clancy.

  “I’m a dog. It’s what I do.”

  “Part dog,” Clancy reminded her, “part Alicia.”

  “Who--by the way--has much larger breasts than you. Doesn’t Alicia have much larger breasts, Eddie? You saw them at the bar, at the party.”

  “Only the cleavage,” I muttered, eyes on the shop door across the street.

  “Well, they’re much larger, take my word for it. Like melons, Miss Cummings. Like succulent honey dews!”

  “Look who’s accusing who of being bi,” Clancy muttered.

  “I was her dog! I slept at the foot of her bed! Watched her undress before the vanity!”

  “With her big honey dew melons.”

  “Be quiet, you two,” I nodded at the side window, “look.”

  Alicia was coming through the shop door in her usual stylish black dress, black Prada handbag, black Armani heels. She shut the door behind her and swept the late afternoon street with her eyes. Clancy and I scooted down reflexively.

  “Do you think she saw us?” I whispered.

  Clancy shrugged, frowning.

  “She can smell you!” from the back seat, “she can smell nearly as well as I can!”

  “Thank you, Mitzi,” I grimaced, “that’s very reassuring.”

  She snorted behind me. “This whole nighttime maneuver is a joke,” she muttered. “You can’t get past a vampire after dusk!”

  “We’ll be in and out before dark,” Clancy whispered, “if she ever leaves.” We’d heard no retreating high heels. “What’s she doing over there, anyway?”

  I peeked over the side paneling to see a dark limo nose to the curb before the shop. “Waiting for her ride,” I said. “Why doesn’t she just turn into a bat and fly home?”

  “Eddie,” Mitzi sighed from the back, “please don’t embarrass me before Miss Van Helsing here.”

  I scrunched down, turned to Clancy. “They can turn into bats, right? And wisps of vapor? And wolves? And they can’t cross over running water, right?”

  She gave me a bemused look. “Sophomore Lit? Bram Stoker? Hollywood?”

  I smiled proudly.

  She nodded condescension. “Uh-huh. Just watch the window, huh Ed? What’s she doing now?”

  I peeked. “Uh-oh…”

  Clancy slid over to me, staying low. “What?”

  “She just took a leash from her purse.”

  “A leash?”

  “And now she’s taking a dog from the car….and snapping the leash to its collar. A large dog! Looks like a pit bull.”

  “Really?” I heard Mitzi sit up in back with interest. “Is he hung?”

  I sighed. “I can’t tell from here. But Alicia’s opening the shop door again, leading the dog inside. Uh-oh…”

  “Quit saying that,” from an anxious Clancy. “What she doing now?”

  “Coming back out of the shop—without the dog.”

  “Damn.”

  “Now she’s getting into the limo. And now the chauffeur is driving away. She’s gone, street’s empty.”

  We sat up in the seat. Clancy looked like she was going to consult her watch, then didn’t bother. “A guard dog,” she said tone
lessly. “This changes everything.”

  “When did the guard dog thing start?” I asked.

  Clancy shook her head. “Just tonight as far as I know. Great!”

  I studied her leaf-dappled face, tight with frustration. “So what do we do now?” I asked softly.

  She shrugged, resigned. “We’ll have to cancel tonight. Figure out some other way into the shop and downstairs to that vat. Damnit! We were so close!”

  “Is there a back entrance to the shop?”

  She nodded without enthusiasm. “But the dog will have the run of the place. Meaning access to both doors. I can shut down the alarm system with my key, but I can’t shut down a charging pit bull.”

  “Are you sure it was a male pit bull?” from the back seat.

  “Pretty sure,” I told her. “A big one. Bigger than any female pit I ever saw.”

  Mitzi dropped her front paws over the back of the seat, leaned over between us and craned toward the darkening shop.

  “Leave the guard dog to me…”

  * * *

  “What about fangers?” I said as we crossed the street quickly. “How many do you think there might still be in the mud baths?”

  “Hard to say,” Clancy panted, “the baths are only to condition the skin in preparation for the lotion, so whoever’s down there is a new inductee or one just finishing the treatment. Could be as many as half a dozen or so, could be none at all. I don’t run the register log, that’s Alicia’s job. But I’ve accounted for them. Anyone in the baths should be asleep.”

  “And if they’re not?”

  “Anyone down in those catacombs is a member and knows me. If someone should be awake—and I doubt it—but if they should be, let me do the talking. You’re a guest, Ed, who’s thinking of joining the—“

  She jerked toward me with alarm. “Where are your sunglasses!”

  I slapped my empty shirt pocket. Swore. “Damn, forgot them.”

  “Christ, Ed,” and she was digging quickly through her big shoulder bag, “try to at least look like a daytime vampire, will you?” She fished around, brought out a pair of Raybans, stuck them on my head.

  “Clancy, these are women’s sunglasses…”

  “Oh, for Pete sake!” She fished again, making little tinkly noises. I glanced over at her bag. “My God, how many glasses you have in there, anyway?”

  “I, uh…sort of collect them. You never know. Here.” She took back the first shades, handed me a pair of aviators.

  “That’s better. Tom Cruise, Top Gun!”

  “Just keep your feet on the ground for the next hour, ace.”

  We hopped up on the curb and paused on the sidewalk, milling around for a moment in front of the shop like we were window shopping or waiting for a cab. I stepped over and peered casually through the shop window. trying not to attract attention. I couldn’t see the guard dog.

  “Okay,” Clancy straightened, “places everyone. Mitzi, you’re our back door. Ed, come with me…”

  “Hey.”

  It was Mitzi, sitting by the alley way of the shop, looking at Clancy and me.

  “Listen…uh…”

  “What is it?” from an impatient Clancy.

  Mitzi waffled. “Nothing, just, you know…”

  “What?”

  “…be careful, that’s all.”

  Clancy soften a notch. “Ed and I will be fine. They know me, like I said, and some may have already met Ed at Alicia’s party. You’re the wild card here, Mitzi. Try to keep a low profile.”

  Mitzi nodded, finally turned toward the alley, started trotting for the rear entrance…paused and turned back again. She regarded Clancy with liquid eyes. “One more thing…”

  Clancy sighed. “The sun is setting, Mitzi! Any vampires in the baths will be up soon! We need to get going!”

  Mitzi looked straight into her eyes. “Just keep an eye on the boy reporter here, huh?”

  I thought I saw something pass between them, or sensed it.

  Clancy’s lips curled up a little at the ends. “He’ll be okay, Mitz.”

  There was an awkward moment, then Mitzi asked, “What time is it?”

  Clancy consulted her watch. “Just after five. We meet back at the car in one hour or before, no longer. If something happens, don’t hang around or go looking for anyone, just hightail it back to the motel. Got it?” She lifted her watch arm. “Ready…now.”

  Mitzi turned and trotted down the alley bordering the shop, soon blocked from our view by the brick side.

  “She doesn’t have a watch!” I exclaimed suddenly.

  Clancy nodded calmly. “She’s a dog, Ed, she’ll know the time. Come on.”

  We checked both ways up and down the sidewalk and street casually. Then Clancy bent quickly and shoved her key into the lock. As the door swung inward, she reached in fast and shut off the wall alarm system. We slipped quietly into the darkened shop.

  Clancy closed the door softly behind us and touched my arm in a holding-back gesture. We stood silently inside the door a moment, listening.

  No sign or sound of the guard dog.

  But that’s why they’re called ‘guard dogs,’ right?

  Clancy shifted the heavy shoulder strap, stepped before me, voice low. “I have pepper spray in my bag. If he attacks, I’ll be the one in front.”

  I didn’t like it. I didn’t like any of it, I suddenly realized.

  I didn’t like vampires and I didn’t like knowing I was a Reader and I didn’t like being with a woman who was essentially protecting me instead of the other way round. Especially the way I was beginning to feel about her.

  Clancy led us through near darkness past the glass top counter displays, counting on her familiarity with the shop’s layout.

  I hadn’t been in a body shop in ages but this one smelled great. Mostly because of the baskets of soaps, I guessed, though whether their almost-seductive scent was Alicia’s own special concoction I had no idea. We passed through to the back of the shop and I noticed one entire wall near the cash register stacked with blue jars of New Dawn skin cream. There was a counter display in front it with jars piled in a neat pyramid and surrounded by promotional signs, including baskets of small giveaways samples.

  Even well away from the street window now, we didn’t dare turn on any lights. Clancy swept aside a beaded curtain in the back of the shop and reached for her shoulder bag. She produced a small pen light and played it down a narrow hall. We passed what I assumed was Alicia’s headquarters: desk, computer hutch and sets of file drawers.

  Still no sign of the guard dog yet.

  The hall ended at a narrow, dark-stained door. Clancy turned to me. “Be careful now, Alicia put in the wooden stairs herself. She’s not what you’d call a professional carpenter.”

  She pressed opened the door for me, I slipped by and we both breathed a sigh of relief as she shut it softly behind us. No guard dog. And no way one could get to us now. Mitzi must have done her job…whatever it was.

  Mitzi!

  I grabbed Clancy’s arm. “How’s Mitzi going to get through the door if we shut it?”

  She gave my hand a patient pat. “Like anyone else with a human brain. She may be the most obnoxious thing on four legs but she’s smart, Ed. She’ll find us. Ready?”

  Casey took my hand and we descended a narrow case of uneven wooden steps into yet darker depths.

  The creaky wooden steps led down a winding canyon of limestone walls and rocky ceiling, rich with earth smells and something else. Oil? The rocky walls seemed to glow. Then I saw why. Metal holders affixed to the rock in a descending arc held a domino line of live torches, lighting our flickering way into the abyss.

  “A little theatric, isn’t it?” I whispered, “Is this Alicia’s idea of customer appeal—a Mediaeval dungeon?”

  Casey clicked off her pen light. “It has its charms. But that wasn’t the original intent. It was pure pragmatism. Alicia couldn’t hire outsourced electricians to wire the catacombs without drawing attention. So
she went the Baroque-chic route. The new clientele seem to love it.”

  “And what if one of the new clientele spills the beans about her little underground torture chamber?”

  She smiled sardonically. “They don’t stay new that long, Ed.”

  Nice, I thought, looking up ominously at the grotesque, billowing shapes our shadows made on the curving, rough-textured walls.

  Suddenly it seemed easier to breathe, as if a blanket had lifted.

  The barometric humidity dissipated; the air became dry and comfortable against the skin.

  “It’s the limestone,” Clancy said, reading my mind, “and the depth.”

  The wooden steps gave way to carved stone and finally to a flagstone floor and we were in the main lower chamber.

  Every sound held a light, cool echo of stone on stone. Even the weird burbling noise somewhere ahead down the widening gallery.

  At first I thought it was the mud baths coming up now on our left, set in a neat row of rectangles of stone. But as we approached, the mud didn’t appear to be bubbling.

  “It’s the lotion vat,” Clancy said, pointing past the baths, “up ahead, around that corner, in another stone gallery.”

  Suddenly she halted, stiffened.

  I heard a noise behind us and froze.

  Clancy whirled.

  In flickering torch light, a stealthy-looking, four-legged creature approached deliberately from out of the shadows. A large dog with a rolling gait and red, glowing eyes. Clancy fumbled for the pepper spray.

  I squinted into the darkness. “Mitzi?”

  Her normally wavy coat was matted and spiky with blood, her muzzle torn, eyes swollen, paws leaving little red prints on the stone floor.

  “What happened?” I hissed worriedly.

  She rolled up to us, literally hang-dog, rheumy-eyed and panting. “No balls…”