Deadly Loyalty Collection

by Bill Myers

  “So what do you think about that crucifix business? Is that girl turning into a vampire or what?”

  Becka stared at him. “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I may not be up on my vampire lore, but when somebody’s been bitten by a vampire and then her skin gets burned by the touch of a crucifix . . . sounds to me like she’s turning.”

  “Turning?”

  “Yeah, you know. That’s how it works, right? If somebody gets bitten by a vampire, that person turns into one too.”

  Suddenly an image of Jaimie sinking her own fangs into Ryan’s neck f lashed into Becka’s mind. She swallowed and answered coolly, “I don’t believe in such things.” She turned away, then called back over her shoulder, “I’ve got to go. I’ll tell Mom you’re here.”

  Barberini nodded and smiled a crude sort of smile, which made her like him even less. She crossed to the elevator, went inside, and pressed the button. When the door closed, she leaned against the back wall for support. Everything seemed to swirl so fast now. Ever since she’d arrived here, she’d felt like she was in some sort of crazy dream. And now the dream seemed to be turning into a nightmare.

  “Mom,” she said as she entered their hotel suite, “that creepy reporter guy’s waiting downstairs for you.”

  Mom looked up from applying her makeup in front of the dresser mirror. “What’s bothering you?”

  Becka shrugged. “Nothing. I just think that guy is a total jerk.”

  “You don’t even know him,” Mom said, her tone a little more firm than before.

  “You should’ve seen him snapping pictures of the doctor examining Jaimie in her trailer.”

  “Honey, that’s his job.”

  “I just get the feeling he’s glad that all this is happening, that’s all.”

  Mom leaned into the mirror for one last check and then stood up. “I doubt he’s glad, sweetheart. But it is his job to cover what’s happening here.”

  Becka watched her mother put the finishing touches to her hair. Finally she said what had been rattling in the back of her head. “John’s not a Christian, is he?”

  Mom paused, then turned to face her. “No, Rebecca, I don’t think he is.”

  “You always say I shouldn’t date a non-Christian, so what are you — ”

  “Rebecca, he just offered to help me do a little shopping.”

  “Yeah, but — ”

  “Honey, I know this is hard for you, but you have to trust me. I’m not dating John. We’re just going shopping. Now, I have to go. We’ll talk later, honey. All right?”

  Becka took a deep breath and slowly let it out. Her mom was trying her best to be open and fair. Maybe she should do likewise. “All right,” Becka said. “I’ll see you when you get back.”

  Mom smiled. As she picked up her purse and crossed for the door, she gave Becka a gentle peck on the cheek. “Bye, honey.” She opened the door, then turned back one last time. “And don’t worry so. Everything will be just fine.”

  Becka nodded and cranked up another smile before Mom turned and headed out the door.

  Later, as she unpacked the laptop and plugged in the power adapter, Becka felt bad about quizzing Mom. After all, it was just shopping. As a single parent, her mom had been through a lot. Ever since Dad’s plane crash, she’d been the one who’d had to hold the family together. And if some guy showed a little interest and offered to be helpful, wasn’t she at least entitled to that? Besides, Mom was a big girl. She could take care of herself.

  At least, Becka hoped she could.

  Carefully, she switched on the laptop, accessed the Internet, and typed in Z’s address. She planned to leave a message for him to contact her the next time he was online, but she was in luck. He was already there, waiting.

  Hello, Rebecca. How do you like Transylvania?

  As the words came across the screen, Becka felt better. Hearing from Z usually gave her a sense of peace. In some strange way it reminded her of when she used to talk to her father. Maybe it was because he always seemed to have the answers. Or maybe it was because she knew he cared.

  For the next few minutes Becka typed away, trying to explain to Z all that had happened since they’d arrived. Every once in a while he’d ask a question, but mostly he just listened.

  Finally, she’d told him everything . . . well, just about everything. She’d left out the part about when she thought Jaimie was putting the moves on Ryan and how she had been feeling some major jealousy. After all, that didn’t have anything to do with vampires.

  Needless to say, she was more than a little surprised when Z asked:

  How is Ryan doing?

  Becka typed one word:

  Fine.

  She waited, but Z gave no response. That’s what he usually did when he knew there was more. Finally, almost reluctantly, she added:

  He likes it here.

  After a moment, Z asked:

  How does he like Jaimie?

  Rebecca’s mind raced. Had Z known Ryan would fall for Jaimie? Had he arranged it by sending Ryan a ticket? Of course, she realized she was being foolish. This was just Z’s way . . . He always seemed to know what was happening, whether anybody told him or not. It was one of the many strange things about him, and it always made her feel just a little uneasy. But since he already knew what was going on, she quit beating around the bush and typed:

  All right, so I’m jealous.

  Z typed back:

  Remember why you’re there. Jaimie needs your help.

  Becka was offended. She’d been trying to help Jaimie — hadn’t she been the one to remind the girl that vampires weren’t real? But it seemed all the pretty actress was interested in was Ryan. Frustrated, she decided to change the subject.

  What about the vampire?

  The response was almost immediate:

  There are no such things as vampires.

  Becka scowled. Yeah, well, she knew that, but what about everything that had happened? The attacks on Jaimie, the fang marks, the burning cross? Something was going on! Before she could type her questions, Z added the following:

  I cannot explain all that is happening, but unexplained circumstances don’t change truth. And this is the truth: There is no such thing as a vampire.

  There he goes again, Becka thought. Sometimes talking to Z could be very confusing. She reached for the keyboard and typed:

  So what are we supposed to do?

  Z’s answer was typical:

  Always remember, “God did not give us a spirit of timidity.” Look past the fear.

  Quickly she typed:

  How?

  Let God’s love show through you.

  Becka answered immediately:

  Yeah, but —

  She got no further. Z’s message cut her words off:

  Must go. Keep me posted. Z

  Becka let out a short, frustrated sigh. Part of her felt comforted because Z had confirmed that there were no vampires, but another part was frustrated, angry, and confused.

  And right now, that part was winning out.

  Becka awoke with a start. She had sprawled out on the bed, intending to close her eyes for only a second. A quick glance at the window told her it was already dark outside. She must have slept longer than she’d planned.

  As she lay in the darkness, she tried to recall her nightmare. She couldn’t remember the details, just the fear and the swirling darkness that twisted throughout the dream like a black, evil snake.

  And, of course, the strange tapping sound.

  A weird tap-tap-tap had echoed through the dream. It kept coming back, over and over again. She could almost hear it now.

  In fact . . . she held her breath . . . she was hearing it now.

  It seemed to come from the window. At first she thought it was a tree branch. Then she remembered they were on the fourth floor.

  No trees here went up that high.

  Her heart started pounding. She reached over, switched on the light by her bed, and listened.

>   Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  She fought the fear that made her want to crawl under the covers and wait for the sound to go away.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  She had to find out what it was.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Slowly, mustering all the courage she could find, she eased her feet over the side of the bed.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Carefully, absolutely silent in her stocking feet, she approached the closed curtain.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  She swallowed hard. The thought of racing out of the room tantalized her, but she knew she’d be wondering about the noise all night. No, it was better to confront the fear now. Besides, didn’t this sort of thing always turn out to be something silly?

  Tap-tap-tap.

  She carefully reached for the curtain. Her mind swam with a thousand thoughts. Where was Mom? It was dark out, and she still wasn’t back from shopping. Where was Ryan? How come he hadn’t called? Was he still with Jaimie? Jaimie, who might be turning into a vampire. Jaimie, who may be turning Ryan into —

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Becka took another deep breath. It was nothing. She was sure of it. Just a silly bird or a lost kite or —

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  It was time. She jerked open the curtain and went stone cold. Floating in midair and grinning at her grotesquely, the hideous form of a vampire hovered outside the window. His long sharp fangs gleamed like miniature pearl knives.

  But it was the yellow eyes that sent the chill through Becka. They held a lifeless evil. A deadness and depravity that spoke of centuries of horror . . . centuries of murder.

  His death white hand stretched out, and one long fingernail extended toward the window, rapping against the glass.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Becka could not breathe. Her eyes were riveted to the creature’s yellow gaze, yet somehow she managed to back away.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  Tap-tap-tap.

  And then she turned and ran.

  4

  By the time she reached the lobby of the hotel, Becka realized there was no place to go. She certainly didn’t want to go out into the night with the vampire right outside her window . . . and she sure wasn’t going back up to her room.

  She could tell the desk clerk to call security, that a vampire was hanging out in front of her window, but somehow she had her doubts that she’d be taken seriously.

  She decided to hide out downstairs on the main floor. She had a Diet Coke at the snack bar but didn’t eat anything. For some reason she no longer thought “Dracula Burgers” or “Ladyfingers with Onion Rings” were that amusing.

  She browsed the newsstand, but the local papers all showed Jaimie’s face on the front page. “He’s Baaaaack!” one English headline read, leading readers into the story about Jaimie’s alley encounter.

  Wonderful. Now her archrival was a local celebrity.

  She thought of Z’s suggestion to love Jaimie. Well, from what she’d just seen, he was wrong about vampires. Maybe he was wrong about this, as well.

  At last she came to the lobby. She sat in one of the big leather chairs facing the desk and waited for Mom or Ryan or somebody to come by.

  And then she heard it. Giggling. The voice sounded familiar. Almost like Jaimie’s. It was followed by a loud guffaw, which sounded like Ryan’s laugh.

  Slowly, she turned around and peeked over the top of the big leather chair.

  It was Ryan, all right — sitting with Jaimie and laughing his fool head off. For one horrible instant, Becka thought they were laughing at her. Then she realized that, even in his worst moments, Ryan was too good a friend for that.

  Still, she resented him for not coming back to the hotel with her. If he’d been there with her, maybe the vampire wouldn’t have come to her window. And if it had, at least someone else would’ve seen it. The last thing in the world she wanted to do was look like she was imitating Jaimie. Or, worse yet, look like a fool by insisting that someone was floating outside her window and having everyone say, “But that’s impossible. You were on the fourth floor!”

  “Becka? What are you doing here?” It was Ryan. He had spotted her spy routine.

  “Uh . . . hi, Ryan . . . Hi, Jaimie.” She was flustered but tried her best to hide it. “I just, uh, came down here because . . .”

  “Were you looking for me?” Ryan asked.

  “No,” Becka snapped. “Of course not. I was waiting for Mom. She’s out with that reporter guy.”

  “So why aren’t you waiting in your room?” Ryan asked.

  There was just no easy way to say it. Finally, Becka blurted, “Because the last time I was there a vampire was tapping on my window.”

  Ryan looked at her incredulously. “But that’s impossible. You’re on the fourth floor!”

  Even Jaimie looked as if she didn’t believe her. “Are you sure, Becka?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Jaimie cleared her throat. “Well, it’s just that, I mean, so far I’m the only one who’s been — ”

  Becka stood up. “I can’t believe you don’t believe me. Especially you, Jaimie.”

  “I’m just suggesting that maybe there’s some sort of logical — ”

  Becka cut her off. “Yeah, right.” With that, she stalked toward the elevator. She knew she was overreacting, and by the time she arrived at the elevator doors, she also knew she wasn’t about to face her room alone. So she turned around and walked right back to Ryan and Jaimie, who were still watching the performance.

  “So,” she said, “are you coming up with me to check out the room or what?”

  Ryan glanced at Jaimie, then rose to his feet. “Sure. C’mon, Jaimie,” he said, “let’s go check it out.”

  Jaimie looked less than excited about the idea but agreed and followed them toward the elevator. As soon as the elevator doors slid shut, Becka felt herself growing tense. Going back to her room to see if a vampire was waiting there to kill her might not be that bright of an idea after all.

  Ryan must have been having similar thoughts because he turned to her and asked, “Have you got a crucifix?”

  “A crucifix?” Becka said, somewhat confused.

  “I’ve got one,” Jaimie said. “It’s in my room. Let’s go there first.”

  Two minutes later they were in Jaimie’s room, arming themselves with two crucifixes and a small bottle of holy water that a crew member had given the actress.

  “Ryan, why are we doing this?” Becka asked as they headed back toward the elevator. “I don’t even believe in vampires.”

  Ryan shrugged. “Do you think you imagined that thing outside your window?”

  She shook her head.

  “Then we have to fight it, don’t we?”

  Becka was still confused. “What about spiritual warfare?”

  Now Jaimie looked confused. “Spiritual what?”

  Ryan’s face turned red at Becka’s question, and he paused. “She means prayer,” he told Jaimie. “And using Scripture.”

  Jaimie frowned. “Scripture? You mean the Bible?” Her incredulous gaze came back to Becka. “You want to fight a vampire with ‘Now I lay me down’ and Bible verses?”

  Before Becka could respond, Ryan shook his head. “I know I’m still new at this, Beck, but I don’t remember anything in the Bible that addresses vampires floating outside your window, do you?”

  “Well — ”

  “Right. So I figure it can’t hurt to take this stuff with us just to be safe.” He pressed the button.

  Becka leaned back against the wall, struggling with the jumble of emotions sweeping over her. Fear. Frustration. Embarrassment. Guilt. Especially guilt. Some spiritual warrior she was. She didn’t even know what Scripture to use! And now this business about crosses and holy water. They hardly seemed the right weapons to fight with
. And yet . . .

  When the elevator doors opened on the fourth floor, Becka felt a cold shiver run through her body. Their suite was just five doors down the hall. Slowly, the three of them made their way toward it. Ryan and Jaimie took the lead, each holding a large crucifix in front of them. Becka followed, carrying the bottle of water.

  They arrived at the door. Everything was quiet.

  Carefully, Becka inserted her key, but when Ryan reached for the knob she waved for him to stop. “Wait a sec. Let me get ready.”

  Rebecca’s hands trembled as she took the top off the bottle of water. Part of her felt foolish. In all of their encounters with the powers of darkness, they’d never once resorted to things like holy water and crucifixes. They’d always attacked things through prayer and by checking out the Bible. To her this other way just seemed like, well, like stupid superstitions. Still, Ryan had a point. The Bible didn’t say anything about vampires . . .

  She looked up at Ryan, and all three braced themselves.

  Finally, she nodded. He threw open the door, and they charged in.

  A large form loomed between them and the desk light.

  “Get him!” Ryan shouted.

  Ryan and Jaimie shoved the crucifixes at the silhouetted figure while Becka threw the water on him.

  “Hey! What do you think you’re doing?” John Barberini spun around, his hair and shirt dripping.

  “Rebecca!” It was Mom, coming out of the other room. “What are you doing?”

  A moment of silence passed as Becka struggled to find her voice. “We, uh . . . we thought he was a vampire.”

  Once again, Becka explained about the vampire outside her window. This so intrigued John that he pretty much forgave her for the soaking. “I guess I should be glad she didn’t drive a stake through my heart instead,” he tried to joke.

  Everyone chuckled, but Becka’s ears burned with embarrassment.

  John opened the window and carefully checked out the ledge. When he drew his head back inside, Ryan asked, “Did you see anything?”

  John shook his head. “There’s no way anybody could rig something to hang out there. Either someone’s playing an elaborate joke, or . . .” He hesitated.