by Kathryn Hore
‘McAllister!’ he screamed at me. ‘You’re safe for now, but my time will come and you won’t be able to escape for ever.’ Then he turned and ran, his feet pounding along the tiled floor, and he was soon gone.
I bent double, dropping my hands to my knees, gasping for air and drenched in sweat. A moment later, I looked up and I was alone. The shadowy figures had also disappeared.
#
I slept until almost eight the next morning. For a while, I lay in bed, pondering the previous evening’s events. I was lucky to be alive, of that I had no doubt. If it hadn’t been for those two shadowy figures, Jimmy would have ripped out my throat and I’d have bled to death alone on the cool tiles. Had Inspector Chim assigned them to watch and protect me? Had it simply been luck? Were they simply a couple of anti-vampire vigilantes who lurked in dark places? Been in the right place at the right time. These vigilantes certainly existed in Melbourne, although the majority of people knew nothing of the undead in the midst of their community.
Finally, I got out of bed and took a shower. I allowed the hot water to play over my back and on my aching muscles. Although I worked out several times a week and jogged daily, my legs were still stiff from the previous night’s run. I finished up, dried myself and dressed.
Daylight flooded into the room as I pulled back the curtains and opened the sliding door. The sound of traffic below met my ears. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the breeze that brushed my face. A moment later, I opened them and focused on a slash of purple on the balcony.
Inspector Chim had given me his business card the night before. I found it in my wallet, grabbed the phone and dialled.
‘Inspector,’ I said once he’d answered. ‘Remember those Russian hookers last night? One of them is lying on my balcony with her throat torn out.’
#
Inspector Chim arrived a short time later with an Indian assistant. I told him about Jimmy Lee chasing me and my unknown benefactors. He nodded and smiled.
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I instructed those two officers to follow you.’
I frowned. ‘Why didn’t they grab Jimmy? They had their chance.’
‘Mr McAllister,’ he said. ‘Their priority was to protect you, which they did. Once you were safe from harm, and Jimmy Lee turned to run, they indeed pursued him.’
‘And?’
‘And he got away. Vampires are quite fast, as you well know.’
We talked a little more about Jimmy, then he told me to find something else to do for a few hours. He’d organise a team to come and take the girl away and to clean up. Once they were done, he’d call me.
‘Do you think Jimmy Lee is trying to set me up for this killing?’ I asked.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘That’s not how he operates. He’s letting you know you can’t hide from him; that he knows where you are and he can get to you anytime he wants.’
‘Not if I don’t invite him in,’ I said.
‘He knows he can’t get you in your hotel room,’ said Chim. ‘He’s just trying to intimidate you.’
As I left, two more officers arrived; both dressed in telephone company overalls.
‘It will attract less attention,’ Chim told me.
‘How will telephone maintenance men get a dead woman out without anyone seeing her?’ I asked, but Chim told me not to worry. It would be taken care of.
I took a taxi out to the Islamic Arts Museum. The driver asked me where I was from, what I did for a living, whether I was married or not. I told him I was a maths teacher, which usually draws less interest than the truth. Instead, it caused him to ramble on non-stop, telling me about his daughter and the trouble she was having with her exams and how he and his wife were beyond despair. After that, the cool tranquillity of the museum was just what I needed. I wandered aimlessly for three hours, learning about Islam; the history, the culture and the art. Back outside was hot. The afternoon sun burned and I was relieved when the taxi back to KLCC was driven in silence.
I found a Starbucks, ordered an iced coffee and, with a copy of The New Straits Times in hand, sat under the slow ceiling fans. The park was full of young women and children chattering happily. Shoppers strolled past, arms laden with brightly coloured bags. There was no mention of any homicides in the paper. It seemed the recent killings by Jimmy were old news, or perhaps had not even made it to the media. I was sure the killing of the Russian hooker would also go unreported. I swirled my coffee and took another sip.
‘Are you McAllister?’
I turned to see a young Malay boy on the other side of the café barriers. I nodded.
‘Jimmy says he’ll see you tonight. Don’t be late.’ And with that he turned and ran into the crowd of shoppers.
‘Hey,’ I shouted as I leaped to my feet. ‘Hey!’ I couldn’t see him anymore. A couple at another table stared at me, disrupted by my shout. I sat back down and dialled Inspector Chim’s mobile phone.
‘I was just about to call you,’ he said when he heard my voice. ‘It’s all clear. You can come back anytime.’
‘I just had some kid run up and tell me Jimmy would see me tonight and not to be late. What’s that about, do you suppose?’
Chim grunted. ‘Kid was probably given a couple of ringgit to deliver the message. But it makes sense. There was a note addressed to you on the hooker’s body. Do you know Pavilion?’
‘Sure,’ I said. I knew it well. The shopping mall was only a few hundred metres from my hotel.
‘Jimmy says to meet him in the food court in the basement at midnight. Alone.’
‘I’m not going. He’s a vampire. He’s stronger and faster. What makes him think I’d even consider going?’
‘Mr McAllister. Do you know a woman named Felicity?’
It was hot, even under the fans, but my blood instantly froze as icy fingers ran up my spine. ‘Yes,’ I finally said. ‘She’s the friend I’m catching up with tonight.’
‘Jimmy has her,’ said Inspector Chim. ‘And if you don’t meet him at Pavilion, he says he will turn her.’
#
Felicity was a Malaysian student in my class at university. We became friends, then lovers for a short time, before realising we were better as friends. We stayed in touch and visited each other whenever we could. I had no idea how Jimmy could have learned of her existence, or my connection to her, but Jimmy had forced a showdown. I had no choice but to be in Pavilion’s food court at midnight.
Inspector Chim was waiting for me in my room. Together, we attempted to formulate a plan, some way that I would be able to defeat Jimmy Lee. We discussed snipers, but bullets did no harm to a vampire. He suggested soldiers armed with stakes, martial arts experts, much like the two who had saved me in the underground passage. The problem, though, was that Jimmy held all the cards. We had no idea how far his network extended. We didn’t know how many vampires would be with him, or what surveillance he had on the food court.
And he had Felicity.
One wrong move on my part and he could torture her in ways I could not even imagine. Once he was done with her, he could turn her and she would be gone, undead, and actually grateful for it.
Then he would still be free to come after me.
No. There was only one way, only one thing that would work. A tried and true method I had previously used. I told Inspector Chim what I needed. He said he would obtain it for me.
#
Inspector Chim had teams of officers waiting outside, discreetly covering all entrances. We had no way of knowing whether Jimmy was already inside, and if so, where he might be. He wished me luck, and I entered through a side door. Inside was dead quiet. I laughed at the irony, then made my way down the unmoving escalators. The food court was, of course, closed and empty. Chairs and tables had been wiped clean and smelled of industrial detergent and curries past.
‘Jimmy,’ I called out, and heard my voice echo back at me. I walked carefully, my hand clutching the illegal, high-powered stun gun in my pocket. It was already activated and ready to go. I wou
ld only have one shot, one chance to bring the vampire down. If I missed, I’d be dead before the stun gun could recharge. On my belt were the handcuffs I’d need once he was unconscious. Slipped into the waistband of my jeans was a stake. I’d taken it reluctantly, but only because Inspector Chim had pointed out that I’d need at least one weapon should the stun gun fail.
Slowly, I weaved my way between the tables, out toward the middle of the court. There was a kiosk there, and I cautiously checked Jimmy wasn’t on top of it. I heard a rustle and a scrabbling sound, but could see no movement. My heartbeat thudded in my ears, and my hands grew clammy. Step by step, I made my way around the kiosk. At the far end, I saw a mannequin in bright yellow clothes. I frowned. It seemed to be set in the form of a crucifix, its arms outstretched and legs together.
Then it moved.
‘Felicity,’ I called out, and ran a few steps. She moved once more. I stopped when I heard Jimmy’s laughter, and then he dropped out of the above darkness to stand a few metres in front of the bound woman.
‘So,’ he called out. ‘You decided to come and play after all?’
‘Let her go,’ I replied. ‘She means nothing to you. I’m the one you want.’
‘Tempting,’ he mocked. ‘But I’ve grown quite attached to her these past few hours. And she does taste quite delightful.’ He grinned, and then smacked his lips. ‘So very delicious.’
‘If you’ve harmed her...’ I started walking slowly toward him.
‘You’ll what?’ he interrupted. ‘Arrest me? Send me to jail? Cry? Boo hoo hoo.’ And then he threw back his head and laughed.
‘Why, Jimmy? Why do you have to do this? Why do you have to kill? You could live like the others do. The occasional bite of a drunk, a quick nibble on a homeless person. The government turns a blind eye as long as you’re discreet. I don’t get it.’
‘Why?’ he roared. ‘Why? Because it’s our nature. That’s why? You want me muzzled like some lapdog, like a tame puppy, denying my very nature, my very existence. That’s not living. Look at the others. Even by our standards, they’re dead inside. I want to live, to taste life, to be what I was meant to be.’
‘I don’t want to fight you. Just let Felicity go and we’ll both leave quietly.’ I glanced at her. She wore a tight yellow dress. Duct tape bound her hands and feet to a railing. A gag was firmly around her mouth.
‘Nuh-uh,’ he said. ‘We’re going to fight.’ He grinned once more, and then launched himself at me.
I was about five metres away from him and he was getting closer. I tightened my grip on the stun gun. I felt like I’d been slammed by a runaway train when he hit me and I was forced onto the floor, unable to breathe. My fingers lost their grip on the stun gun, still in my pocket, and I struggled to stand. But he was on me again, wrestling me and laughing maniacally. He straddled me, knees to either side of my body, and one hand firmly holding my chest. My left arm flailed wildly and beat uselessly against his body. I snaked my right arm back toward my pocket. His right hand grasped my forehead and started to twist it, forcing my neck to stretch. He leaned in and I could smell the fetid stench of his mouth. My eyes widened as I saw his fangs move closer and closer. Then suddenly, he screamed in fury as I pressed the arcing stun gun against his leg. His back arched, and he struggled to keep hold of me. The charge only lasted five seconds and then it died. He still held me, although more loosely than before. I had fought to keep the electrodes pressed against him, but they must have lost contact. He had not been knocked unconscious, merely weakened. He continued to fight, hands scrabbling and scratching my skin as he tried to get a hold. I punched him and managed to roll him on his back. The longer this fight continued, the more my chances of winning decreased. He was regaining strength while I was weakening. I pushed myself up until I was sitting astride his chest. I pulled the stake from my waistband and raised it high. He stared at me, realising all was now lost.
‘I didn’t kill Roland,’ I said.
‘You’re so full of shit,’ he muttered. ‘Fong told me you did.’ And then he died with a scream as I drove the stake into his heart.
#
It took me a moment to remember Felicity. I was spent, but I stood and raced to release her. She collapsed against me, crying in my arms.
‘Are you all right?’ I asked repeatedly, but she could only manage to nod between sobs.
‘Mr McAllister.’
I looked across to see Inspector Chim and Mr Fong striding toward me. Behind them was a team of police and a couple of paramedics.
‘Well done,’ said Chim. ‘You killed Jimmy and rescued the girl. Just like in the movies.’
I nodded.
The paramedics eased Felicity from me. I faced Chim and Fong.
‘You bastard,’ I said.
‘I’m sorry?’ he said coolly. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’
‘You knew. You knew I didn’t kill Roland, yet you and Fong were the ones who made sure Jimmy heard it was me. Jimmy told me before he died. You also told him about Felicity. You’re the only person who knew I had a friend here, and you told Jimmy.’ I jabbed his chest with my finger. ‘What was this? Some kind of war between factions of the clan? You wanted Jimmy gone but couldn’t be responsible? I came along, and so you found your scapegoat, a fall guy to do your dirty work and take responsibility for it.’
Chim stared impassively.
‘I was right. You are a quick one,’ said Fong. ‘But it all worked out, didn’t it? The clan was on the verge of a civil war in KL. Jimmy had gone feral and was planning to revolt against us. If we’d taken care of Jimmy, his faction would have sought revenge. They’re a close group, but without Jimmy to put thoughts in their heads, they’ll be happy to toe the line. This way, peace is brought to KL.’
‘All worked out? What in hell do you mean? Felicity is traumatised and we both could have been killed.’
‘It would have been a small sacrifice for the greater good, don’t you think, Mr McAllister?’ Chim finally joined in the conversation. ‘And if anything had happened to you, Jimmy would have been taken care of by us and we’d have said you’d managed to do it.’
‘And Felicity?’
‘We’ll tell her she was kidnapped by an escaped psychopath. She wouldn’t believe he was a vampire anyway. He wouldn’t have harmed her. It was you he wanted.’
‘Bullshit! He’d already tasted her. He was going to turn her.’
Chim shrugged, ‘It doesn’t matter. It all worked out. No real harm was done.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No harm was done. Except I can never return to KL because a faction of the clan now wants me dead.’ I narrowed my eyes. ‘All because you turned me into a killer, something I’m not.’
‘He was already dead, Mr McAllister.’
‘It doesn’t matter,’ I said. ‘I’m no better than them now.’ I turned, my fists clenched, and strode away.
ELFFINGERN
Dan Rabarts
Eins (1)
Smoke and blood. Mud and steel. The thunder of artillery, the chatter of machine guns, the grind of tanks.
Two brothers, pressed hard against the wet trench wall, panting. Rifles tight to their chests, dirt rattling on their helmets as they wait for a lull, wait for the order to throw themselves into the fury of the German machine gun nests.
One more breath, one breath too long. A shell lands with a roar a score of yards distant.
Two brothers, lifted and thrown sideways like little more than sacks of coal. The hollow ringing in the ears, the dull echo of screams, the hot burn of shrapnel. One brother, mouth agape but no sound coming out, staring at the burnt, bleeding stump of his elbow, his hand and forearm twitching in the mud several feet away. The other, staring through the hole in his left hand where his smallest finger had been, pulsing blood through burnt flesh. Too dazed, too numb for pain. He looks at his brother, not dead yet, but lying, gasping, bleeding. He ought to cry out for help, but here in the blinding madness of the trenches, of other men’s w
ar, so very far from home, there is no one to hear.
The touch of sudden snow drifting from smoke-wracked skies, settling on his ravaged hand, melting pink with his blood and dripping into the earth. He imagines himself sinking into the earth, like dripping blood, melting snow, silent screams.
The crunch of boots in mud and debris, someone calmly approaching. The soldier looks up, gazes upon the figure standing head and shoulders above the top of the trench, and waits for the fool’s head to explode in a burst of hot lead. The figure’s coat is long and ragged, too smeared in mud and ash to identify insignia or rank. His battered helmet serves no better to identify him. The stranger crouches in the mud beside the dying brother, who gibbers like a lost babe. A bloody knife appears from inside his coat.
James watches as the apparition grabs his brother’s remaining hand, and screams as the knife comes down.
Zwei (2)
‘No,’ Mary repeated, more firmly this time, as they crossed the garden between the parking lot and the sanatorium. ‘The doctor’s telegraph was very clear. We are not to talk about it. He finds it very upsetting.’ She fussed with her black veil while the wind tried to snatch it away.
‘I just want to know what it was like, mum. It must’ve been so exciting.’
‘Eric, that’s enough.’ She swallowed the rest of her reply. He was only eleven, after all. He only knew what the newspapers told them, of glory and victory and heroes. Not of what that glory cost. It was little comfort that even though his father — a hero, apparently — would not be coming home from the war in Europe, Eric was brimming with excitement at the prospect of visiting his crippled uncle. Both had been gone a long time, especially for a boy growing up without a father.
Behind the stone monolith with its dozens of blind staring eyes, rows of pine trees swayed in the rising breeze, like a curtain to hold back the world. Mary shivered, and told herself that it was only the frigid wind. She couldn’t afford a bad impression on this visit. Maybe the world was falling apart, but she still had a responsibility to provide for her son, by any means possible.