by Eve Paludan
I stuck my foot out in the aisle and tripped the purse snatcher, who dropped Sam’s purse and spilled everything as he tried to keep his balance, then bonked his head on the floor and knocked himself out as he fell.
“Thief!” Sam didn’t seem to notice that the thief was unconscious, because she tackled the inert man. As blood trickled from his head, she swiped her fingers through it and put them in her mouth.
“Sam, don’t eat off the floor!” I blurted. She was licking a train floor! And people thought werewolves were gross.
The spirit of Danny swirled around our heads. I thought he might have made a boo-ha-ha sound of ghostly glee.
“Get back in my purse, Danny!” Sam ordered. “Now!”
But Danny the ghost didn’t get back in her purse. Instead, he headed for the bistro car.
When Danny passed through the walls and entered the bistro car and moaned like a monster in a horror movie, a bunch of people screamed bloody murder.
The paparazzi came pouring out of the bistro car into our car, absolutely terrified. No one was even trying to take videos. That’s how damn terrified they were.
Fang wove his way between screaming people, sauntered back to his seat and sat down casually. “Okay,” he said, “the timing worked out so that Jolie got the knock-out treatment from me exactly when Danny’s ghost came through the wall. It totally looked like she fainted. It’s a freaking party trick that Morrie doesn’t know how to undo. They’re using smelling salts on her, which won’t work. I’ll go back in a minute and give her mouth-to-mouth and miraculously ‘wake’ her from the dead.”
“You mean, from the undead,” I quipped.
“That’s right.”
I high-fived Fang across the aisle as he counted down from sixty and then yelled, “I’m coming, darling!” and ran back to the bistro car.
Within five seconds of his arrival, cheers went up and spread through the train like a wave at an Angels’ game as he brought the inert Jolie Hart back to ‘life.’
As the entire train cheered Fang for bringing his lady back from her fake death, I laughed so hard that I nearly pissed myself. Even Samantha was laughing, something she didn’t often do.
Fang’s timely prank was actually the second-best part of our train trip.
Nothing could ever hold a candle to being with Sam when we were on again.
Chapter 18
For the rest of the train trip to Vegas, no one wanted to sit near Sam and me. She had blood all over her clothes from the purse snatcher. I tried not to be grossed out by her entity’s insistence that Sam lick up the floor with her tongue, but eww. She kissed me with that mouth.
“I can hear your thoughts, Kingsley.”
Oops. I changed my thoughts and gave Sam a flashback of what we had just done standing up in the vestibule.
She giggled, a sound I loved.
Sam had handed over the purse snatcher to the conductor, who had handed the thief over to the railroad cops at an emergency stop on a siding—though the thief had denied the incident and complained that I’d tripped him, he had a bunch of stolen wallets on him. Yeah, jail time was in store for that meth head. He didn’t even have a ticket.
I was questioned for all of twenty seconds. Somehow, the railroad cops had a hard time believing that a prominent defense attorney from Yorba Linda would have any part in tripping anyone purposely. And certainly Sam, five feet four and a bit of curves, looked to the railroad cops like a pale, non-lethal weapon.
The security detail looked for a reported ‘ghost’ that a lot of people had seen, but of course, didn’t find one.
Danny’s spirit meekly got back in Sam’s purse. He was quiet for the rest of the trip, zipped up tight in there. I was pretty sure he’d come a bit unglued with the knowledge of what Sam and I had been doing in the vestibule. It was actually an item to cross off my bucket list. I was absolutely delighted.
Sam softly slugged me in the shoulder. “One-track mind?”
“I’m a hound dog like that,” I admitted.
She gave her squirming purse a pat.
“Got a Yorkie in there?” I teased.
“Oh, please, you know I prefer big dogs to little dogs.” A smile spread across her face as she laid that double entendre on me as her purse wiggled.
“Sam,” I said, “the thing about Danny is, when I was going to go get Danny’s spirit, I was going to ask him to read the contract and tell me the loopholes that he saw, in case I missed something. You probably don’t know it, but among the ambulance-chaser lawyer set, he used to be nicknamed Loophole Danny.”
“In front of him or behind his back?”
“The latter,” I admitted.
“You should know that spirits have a hard time reading, if at all,” she said. “They don’t see as much with their eyes as they do with their emotions.”
“I didn’t know that.”
She rolled her eyes, as if I should have known.
I huffed and puffed, but Sam wouldn’t tell me anything about Danny’s true purpose with us, since he was not going to act as Loophole Danny.
She kissed me on the cheek. “You’ll know it when you see it. Trust me.”
I thought about what Ishmael had told me about the contract. “I do trust you. Do you trust me?”
“Now, I do,” she said with a satisfied wink.
I winked back.
“Will you please concentrate on the mission?” Sam asked as Fang arrived in a blur and sat with us again.
I nodded at Sam. “I’m all good now. Until Monday night.” I crossed my heart to show her I meant it.
“I’ll try to make sure you get home in time to turn,” Sam said. “Even if I have to fly you home in my talons.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Of course.”
I relaxed. “That would be good. Otherwise, Fang says he’ll chain me to the lion inside the MGM Hotel.”
“Fang, did you threaten Kingsley with that?” Samantha looked at him.
“It was not a threat. It was a promise.”
“See?” I said to Sam.
“Don’t you two play me against each other,” Sam said. “Now, be quiet, guys, so I can do a little astral projection.”
After a bit, Sam opened her eyes. “Fang, Jolie is asking for you. Head back to the bistro car and sit with her. Take your stuff and stay with her. We’ll see you in Vegas at the rendezvous point. Call us if you run into trouble.”
He smiled triumphantly and grabbed his little insulated cooler of blood beverages to make himself even more welcome in her entourage. He made his way back to the bistro car in a split second.
I waited until Fang was gone before I spoke. “I guess Fang giving Jolie some fake CPR impressed a lot of people. If they only knew he was knocking Jolie out with the vampire version of the Vulcan neck pinch and then undoing it.”
Sam smiled. “Yep. That was his little way of weaseling himself into her rock star entourage in the bistro car. That and his portable vampire refreshments. This feels like risky business, but I like it that Fang is on our team.”
“Me, too. Now, no one will be asking her to sing on the train. Not after she supposedly fainted from seeing a ghost.”
Sam smiled. “Funny how that worked out.”
“Come sit on my lap,” I invited.
“Kingsley! Are you that insatiable?”
“Yes, but it isn’t that. I want to cuddle you. We didn’t get our afterglow.”
She sighed and climbed into my lap. I was in Heaven again when she fell asleep in my arms.
Even though Fang was now sort of unofficially attached to Jolie’s entourage, I still worried that once we got to Vegas, Morrie would snatch Sam, kill her, rip the entity from her and put it in Jolie. What could Fang really do against a vampire who professed to be not just the king of the vampires, but Satan himself?
Sam briefly opened her eyes. “Shhh, it’s fine. Morrie isn’t what he claims, for a start.”
“You’re certain of that?” I as
ked.
“Dracula is the king of the vampires, and Morrie isn’t Dracula.”
“How do you know?” I shot back.
“Because I do.”
“You know Dracula?”
“Don’t say his name.” Sam sounded serious.
“You said it.”
“Dracula and I are already connected. I think it would complicate your life if you summoned him and brought him into not just this case, but your world. He’s not fond of werewolves.”
“Who couldn’t like me? Let’s get the Big D on our team, too. We could use his help.”
“There’s an idea,” Sam said.
“Does this mean you can summon him?”
“Don’t go there.”
“I have to, Sam.”
“I wonder if the ‘Big D’—as you call him—would be interested to know that some other vampire is trying to usurp his title.”
“Yeah.”
“If we had the Big D on our side, now we’re talking a solid team,” she said. “I don’t know if I will or won’t try to summon the Big D.”
“Dracula,” I whispered.
“Shh, don’t say his name! Honestly, you’re like a dog with a bone when you get an idea in your head. Will you please get some sleep and stop the wheels from turning for a little while?”
“I can’t, Sam. I’m hard-wired for your protection, twenty-four/seven. Your safety and well-being is my life mission.”
“You’re amazing.” She fell asleep on me again.
For some reason, I liked that better than her saying that she loved me.
Vampires on a train. And now, one of them was sleeping in my arms. It was the only safe place for Samantha Moon tonight. And her sexy entity, too, who might have been growing on me. A little.
I slept some, too. But I kept one ear open. As werewolves do.
Chapter 19
A very pale senior citizen wearing wraparound Ray-Bans met us on the platform as we got off the charter train in Vegas. He was dressed in a crisp-white polyester leisure suit, circa 1970. He sported huarache sandals on his feet, without socks. His toenails were long, pointed and yellow, like talons. He had non-human blood on his breath. I wasn’t even sure what animal it was.
We were traveling light, so we didn’t have anything but hand luggage. When the man stuck out his hand to shake mine, I took it. His skin was as cold as vanilla ice cream and just about the same color.
“Kingsley Fulcrum,” he said, as if he knew me.
“May I have the pleasure of your name?” I asked the cool-handed vampire.
He took off his sunglasses to reveal bonfires in his pupils. “You know what? You can just call me the Big D. I sort of like that. It’s very Vegas.”
Sam gasped and then she punched me in the shoulder. “You idiot. You summoned him.”
“I didn’t summon him, I just thought about… the Big D. I didn’t text him or Snapchat him or Facebook him or Instagram him. I just thought about him.”
“No one Facebooks anymore.” Dracula shook his head. “Sam, you really should control your pet a little better.”
“I’m not a pet,” I said, affronted.
“Well, you aren’t food. And you aren’t one of us. So, what else could you be? You’re the pet of a vampire.”
“Sir,” I said, trying not to lose my temper, “let’s not get this off on the wrong foot. Now that you’re here, we have need of your services.”
“Dear Lord,” Sam said to Dracula. “Dracul, I’m so sorry we bothered you.” She bowed her head respectfully and then raised her eyes again.
“You don’t have to call me Lord. Nice touch, though. But Samantha Moon, why am I here?” Dracula posed his arms akimbo at the level of his white leather leisure belt that held up his wrinkle-free polyester slacks.
I raised my hand to him. “May I speak?”
I meant it as a joke, but Sam actually nodded at me. Oh, so that’s how she was going to roll. Sam would have to give me permission to address Dracula? Fine.
“Big D,” I said. “We’re in big trouble. It’s a long story, but here’s the part that should concern you the most: A manipulative, cruel vampire named Morrie is proclaiming not only that he’s king of the vampires, but that he’s Satan, too. He wants to rip the entity out of Sam and put it in a singing vampire who never got an entity when she was turned. He made her sign a contract that looks like a deal with… you know who.” I pointed downward.
A strange noise arose from the depths of Dracula, a noise that sounded like something between the whistle of a boiling teakettle and a donkey’s bray. It was a horrific sound, until I realized that Dracula was laughing.
Sam and I started laughing, too. Nervously. When Dracula laughed, one laughed with him.
Dracula finally stopped, and his look was enough to freeze the laugh in my throat. “Let’s go somewhere private where you can lay it all out for me, and I will decide whether to help you or just kill that idiot where he stands.”
“No, not my pet!” Sam said in alarm, stepping in front of me.
“Not him!” Dracula said. “I meant Morrie.”
I breathed easier and stepped out from behind Sam to address Dracula. “Big D. Let’s go get you a Bloody Mary. On me.”
“Excellent idea. Let’s go to a T & A bar.”
“No!” Sam said. “What is it with men and strip bars?”
Dracula gave her a sharp look of disappointment.
She complained, “Does no male of any species keep his mind on the business at hand?”
“Killjoy,” Dracula said. “To your tame little hotel bar, then.”
We caught a cab and the three of us headed for the Strip in the shimmering heat of Las Vegas at two in the morning.
I texted Fang that Dracula was now on our team. It took me three texts and a selfie with him to convince Fang, who saw me with my arm around an empty white leisure suit that stood up by itself.
Chapter 20
Sam, Dracula and I used the speedy check-in kiosk and headed up to the two-bedroom suite Sam and I had booked. It was supposed to be a three-bedroom, because we’d originally thought Fang would be with us and I wanted each of us to have our own room, but the reservations desk had messed up and didn’t have a three-bedroom for us. That meant we got a two-bedroom suite with a pull-out couch in the living room. Not that we would be sleeping much. At least the kiosk had given us a discount for not being able to give us our promised accommodations.
The room was really nice. The air conditioning was ice cold, which I appreciated, although I knew that Dracula and Sam would want to be as warm as possible. Me? I was a living, breathing, sweaty mammal, who just happened to be a werewolf.
The three of us dumped our hand luggage, freshened up, and headed down to the hotel bar for my promised Bloody Mary. The Big D supplemented the vodka concoction with a finger of liquid from a flask that apparently had human blood in it. He stirred the Bloody Mary with the celery stalk that came with it and gave the celery to Sam.
I was chagrined to see Sam suck on the celery stalk. On one hand, it was so erotic to watch her lips and tongue work on getting all the blood off the celery. On the other hand, Sam was getting out of control on this mission, letting her entity have way too much blood.
“It’s not human blood, but yummy, whatever it is, it’s so good,” Sam said as she licked the celery.
“What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas,” Dracula said.
Sam laughed in this wicked way that scared me. I knew it was her entity laughing. By Dracula’s second Bloody Mary, Sam was very interested in his flask. “Does that refill itself or do you have to fill it?”
“It refills itself.” He held out the flask to her. “Want a nip?”
Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “My entity says yes, but I say no. I have already partaken at Fang’s private club, and then, I had your celery stirrer. Previously, I licked the blood off a purse snatcher from the floor. I even sucked on Kingsley’s couch where Jolie bled on it.”
&nb
sp; “Have another celery stirrer,” he said. I tried not to notice how Sam was treating that celery stalk. I was jealous of that celery stalk.
“How did you like Fang’s enterprise?” Dracula asked Sam.
Sam said, “It was such a treat not to be drinking filthy animal blood out of a plastic packet from a slaughterhouse. Fang has the most delicious bottled human blood and clever names for the brands. He even has professional packaging. He’s like a blood barista. He studied the Starbucks business model before he opened his blood club.”
“He’s quite an enterprising young man,” Dracula said, approval in his nod.
“I think so, too,” Sam said and I could sense her entity rising up. “What do I have to do to get a flask like that?”
“I’ll trade it for your ring that lets you go out in the sun,” Dracula said.
“Jolie has one, too,” I offered.
“Interesting,” Dracula said. “She has one like Sam’s?”
I nodded.
Sam said, “Dracul, I need that ring to go out in the world with my children. It’s not for sale or trade and it isn’t coming off my finger.”
“I thought you might say that,” he said drily.
“You wouldn’t take it from me, would you?” Her eyes were worried.
“Samantha Moon. Do you think so little of me? You don’t need to worry, and I couldn’t if I wanted to. Watch.” Dracula put his index finger on that ring and a huge blue spark flew and made a snapping sound.
“Ouch,” he said, jerking away his finger. “Both of your rings are like the ruby slippers in that famous movie, you know the one?”
Sam nodded. “So, no one can take my rings?”
“Not to my knowledge. Not while you… live, so to speak.”
“Cool.” Sam seemed to relax.
I was feeling left out, so I drank the rest of my virgin piña colada—I was working and wanted to keep my wits about me. I decided that it was time to ask Sam for the favor I’d been putting off. “Sam, I need you to steal the original contract from Jolie Hart’s guitar case.”