by Ray Garton
"I haven't seen these two yet, do you have any idea why?" the fat man said.
"No, Mr. Castlebeck, I have no idea," the German-accented albino said. "I'm just following orders."
"Well, let me take a look at them, at least, before you mark them up."
Karen surprised herself when she had to bite back a laugh, which she was sure would lead to an hysterical fit of laughter. What struck her as funny was Castlebeck's suit—it looked like a big balloon that had been over-inflated. Above his bloated double chin was a fat face that seemed in the process of consuming itself. He was of average height, had thick brown hair, and a bulbous nose.
Castlebeck apparently had hurried because he was a bit winded. It was possible, Karen decided, that he was always a little winded, as fat as he was.
He stepped toward Casey and looked her over, then turned and did the same with Karen.
"This one's a little long in the tooth," Castlebeck said of Karen. "But she's nice. A nice MILF" He turned to the albino. "You know what a MILF is, Malcolm?"
Malcolm shook his head.
"M-I-L-F. A MILF is a Mom I'd Like to Fuck." Then he laughed. He turned to Casey again and said, "This one's a beauty. Yes, I'll be able to—" He frowned as he looked Casey over again. He reached down and lifted her upper lip. When he saw the lumps above her teeth, he turned to Malcolm and said, "She's a vampire."
"That's right, Mr. Castlebeck."
Karen watched Castlebeck as he stroked his chin, then tugged on the roll of fat beneath it.
"I want 'em," Castlebeck said. "Both of 'em."
"You will have to take that up with Mr. Barna." He pronounced it, You vill hoff to take zat up wiss Mr. Barna.
Castlebeck took a cell phone from his pocket. "I will, then. Don't damage them. Not yet." He punched in a number and put the phone to his ear. He frowned after a while and said, "No answer." He pushed the Off button, then turned it back on and punched in another number, "Hello, this is Frank Castlebeck."
As he listened, his eyes moved over Karen's body and one half of his mouth curled up in a smile. She felt his stare on her, even when she closed her eyes. They made eye contact for a moment.
He said, "Yeah, you've got a couple women here in Room B who I'd like to use, if that's all right with you." He nodded his head slowly as he listened. "Ah, I see. I didn't know that. But I'd still like to use them in—oh, of course. Yes, I understand." He winked at Karen. "Well, in that case, if you leave them to me, I'll do my best to get what you want out of them. The humiliation alone—yes, I understand. Thank you, thank you very much." He folded the phone up and put it back in his pocket as he grinned at Karen, then at Casey. "Looks like you ladies are in my care." He turned to Malcolm. "Put them back in their room for now. I'll get to them in a little while."
Malcolm began to unfasten Karen's straps first, then Casey's. "Come on," he said. "Back upstairs."
Back in their dark room, Karen sat on the edge of her bed and faced Casey, who sat on the edge of hers.
"I feel groggy," Karen said.
"Me, too," Casey said. "It's possible they drugged us, but it's more than likely just them. Vampires are capable of doing some serious mental damage if they want. Or they can just make someone groggy and pliant, like us. Since I don't prey on people, I've never exercised most of my abilities. I mean, I have no reason to make someone groggy and pliant, you know?"
"You've .. . never done that?"
"Never had a reason to. Most vampires like Davey and me, they don't use most of their abilities as vampires. We're more interested in being human than in being vampires. As a result, though, my abilities are rusty, and I can't do much to fight off whatever the brutals are doing to me."
"What are they going to do to us?" she whispered.
"I don't know, but it's not going to be pleasant. If that Castlebeck guy hadn't come in when he did, you would've lost at least one toe."
"They want to know who we've told," Karen said, "but we haven't told anyone. The only people Keoph and I talked to were Walter Benedek, you and Davey, and that old woman, Mrs. Dupassie. We haven't told anyone anything."
"But how do we convince them of that?" Casey said.
"I wonder who Mr. Castlebeck is."
"I wonder who that creepy albino is," Casey said. "He made me feel cold. Hell, I feel cold now. Is it just me, or is it chilly in here?"
"It is," Karen said with a nod. She crossed her arms and scrubbed her upper arms with her hands. "I don't know about you, but I'm getting into bed." She got up, pulled the blanket on the cot back, and slid beneath it. She propped herself up on her left elbow and faced Casey, who had gotten into her own cot and covered up. "I wish they'd give us something to wear," Karen said.
Several seconds later, Casey said, "I've never had a problem with nudity. My parents were—well, they weren't exactly nudists, I mean, they didn't meet with any other people or go to nudist camps, or anything— but they were naked a lot. So was I when I was a kid. When no one else was around, we wandered around naked a lot. Mom and Dad taught my brother and I that it was only appropriate at home, and never when there were guests. I became more modest when puberty struck, though, and started covering myself up. But as an adult, I have no problem with nudity. In fact, before we started hiring help, I used to do housework in the nude."
Karen shook her head and said, "I don't think my parents were ever naked. I think they were born with clothes on. I come from a very buttoned-up family. Buttoned up in more ways than one."
"Ah. They weren't very affectionate?"
"No, not at all. When a parent hugged and kissed kids on TV, I was always uncomfortable with it. It felt inappropriate to me, because my parents never hugged or kissed me. By the time I reached high school, though, I'd figured out that it was very appropriate, and that the problem was with my parents. They were incredible. They were so uptight, they didn't even voice their opinions unless asked. As an act of rebellion, I became the exact opposite of them. I always said what was on my mind, I wore my feelings on my sleeve, and I showed a lot of affection to them. Drove them nuts."
Casey laughed. "My parents were hippies," she said. "They smoked pot. Never in front of me, but I could smell it. I didn't realize what it was until I was, like, in high school. Once I found out, I hunted down their stash and helped myself to it. They figured out I was pinching some now and then, and we had a talk. They told me they didn't think there was anything wrong with pot, but it was illegal. If I wanted to smoke it, fine, but only at home with no one else around, and I could tell no one. In other words, I could only get stoned with my parents. Well, there was no way I was going to do that, so as it turned out, I ended up, for the most part, clean and sober in my high school years. Drugs were no big deal—not if my parents were doing them—and they held no interest for me, maybe because my parents did them. For me, drugs didn't have the appeal of forbidden fruit like they did for others. I'm glad of that, too. I know people who went too far with drugs. They're a mess now. I'd much rather be carried away by a good book."
Karen sighed. "Yeah, I like to read, too."
Casey said, "I keep telling Davey to write his novel. It's something he's always wanted to do, and I keep pushing him to do it. But he hasn't started it yet, as far as I know."
"What kind of novel do you think he'll write?" Karen said.
Casey thought a moment, then said, "Something sad."
They stopped talking and just lay in the dark, thinking. Karen's thoughts were a swift jumble of fear, and she could not slow them down. She kept feeling again the cold blades of the clippers on her little toe, and realized over and over—each time was heart-clenching, as if it had never occurred to her before—that she was being held captive by vampires.
After several minutes of silence, as upset as she was, Karen drifted off to sleep.
The lights came on with a horrible shrieking sound, and Karen was torn from sleep so hard, she fell off the cot. She got up quickly, shaking, and looked at Casey, who had plunged off the cot and
stood beside it now.
Karen covered her ears with the heels of her hands and had to shout to be heard: "What is that?"
Wincing at the sound—an impossibly loud blend of sirens, all of which clashed terribly with each other—Casey said, "I don't know. Maybe a fire alarm. Maybe not."
After a full minute, the sound stopped and the lights went out again.
While the lights were on—the overhead light and both nightstand lamps—Karen had gotten a look around at the room. Aside from their beds and the nightstand beside each, it was completely empty—even the walls were bare.
Seeing the room for most of that minute had given her a feeling of emptiness, and hopelessness. They were like animals in a cage.
Casey said, "That will probably go off at regular intervals to keep us from sleeping."
Karen released a long breath of relief as she sat on the bed.
"Did you get a look at the room?" Casey said.
"Yes. No windows."
"Just the door."
Karen heard Casey move around in the room. "What are you doing?"
"I'm checking the door." The doorknob rattled. "It's locked.” Casey sighed.
"I'm not surprised."
Casey's cot creaked when she sat down on it again. They had nothing to do but wait.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Frank Castlebeck was usually a very happy man. He had a good life. He had money—most of the time, if not lately—he got plenty of pussy whenever he wanted it, and he was able to spend much of his time working around beautiful women who were either taking their clothes off or putting them on at any given time. He was a naturally upbeat man, something he'd developed back in school when others had picked on him for being fat. He'd found that if he was cheerful and optimistic, people were less likely to insult him. Of course, there were those who mocked him anyway, and his cheerfulness was a good way to conceal how much they hurt him.
Lately, though, things had gone downhill. Castlebeck liked to play the horses, and they had wiped him out two years ago. He'd been trying to get back on his feet ever since. In doing that, he'd made a terrible mistake: He had borrowed money from Mrs. Dupassie.
A horse called Norma Dune had been his downfall. He'd been so sure, his gut had never had a stronger feeling, and all the signs were right—the weather was sunny (he never bet on rainy days), and his horoscope in the Los Angeles Times had told him to be bold.
He'd bet it all on Norma Dune. The horse had lost the race. Didn't even place.
Castlebeck knew some mob guys, but there was no way in hell he was going into debt to them, or anyone like them. Then Christopher Parch, a vampire who managed one of Castlebeck's strip joints, had told him about Mrs. Dupassie. She loaned a lot of vampires money—even though Castlebeck wasn't a vampire, he worked with them, so maybe she would help him out.
He'd gone to see her, and had asked her for the loan. What could it hurt? She was a little old lady. A vampire, yes, but an old, frail vampire. She'd seemed so nonthreatening, even charming.
Castlebeck had managed to pay off a portion of the loan, but he still owed a great deal to her.
The vampires gave Castlebeck the willies. He did not like them, nor did he enjoy working with them. But he went where the money was, and they were rolling in it.
Back in 1985—back when he thought vampires were nothing more than characters in horror films— they had come to him. Very professional, spare with words. A Mr. Barna came to his office one evening— that was before Barna became well known—with what looked like a bodyguard, a broad-shouldered, deep-chested man whom Barna introduced as Stanley. Barna was Hungarian and spoke with the faintest touch of an accent. He and his "people" wanted to be Castlebeck's partner, and in exchange, they would provide him with all the talent he needed, not only for his strip joints, but for his adult film business as well, all for free. The only condition was that he turn a blind eye to a few things, and not talk about what he saw.
Castlebeck had refused at first. There was something very unsettling about Mr. Barna and his beefy associate Stanley. He'd wanted nothing to do with them.
He had been seeing a blonde named Mandy at the time. She was something. She had wanted to be in one of his movies, and in exchange for the role, she'd moved in with him and become his girlfriend for awhile. She was great in bed—she'd behaved like a slut and talked dirty, just the way Castlebeck liked it.
One night, he'd come home to find Mandy stretched out on the couch with her head in Barna's lap. Barna's silent, muscular friend was seated in a chair, but stood when Castlebeck came into the room.
"Hello, Mr. Castlebeck," Barna had said.
"Mandy?" Castlebeck said.
"Mandy is in an hypnotic state, Mr. Castlebeck. I've come here to show you why we are so seldom told 'no.'" Barna slid his arms beneath Mandy's upper body and lifted her toward him. "Mandy. You may open your eyes now."
Mandy opened her eyes, looked up at Barna, and smiled.
Barna opened his mouth and two deadly looking fangs slid down from beneath his upper lip. He bent forward as he lifted her toward him, and plunged the fangs deep into her neck.
Castlebeck started forward reflexively to help her, and in a heartbeat, Stanley was standing in front of him. He appeared so suddenly, Castlebeck slammed right into him.
Mandy squirmed in Barna's arms and made breathy sounds faster and faster. Barna made sloppy, loud sucking sounds.
Castlebeck could do nothing. He certainly wasn't going to get rough with Stanley, who stood six feet, four inches tall. After seeing Barna's fangs, his first instinct was to run out of the room, to get out of the building. He resisted the urge.
Mandy gasped and her whole body tensed tremulously, as if she were reaching orgasm.
Barna lifted his head and smiled at Castlebeck. Blood glistened on his lips and teeth, making his smile very red. The fangs were gone.
"I could drink every last drop of her blood and kill her right here," Barna said. "That would be difficult for you to explain to the police, no? But I'm not going to do that." He helped Mandy up into a sitting position, then he stood. "I simply want you to know that I'm capable of it. I could do just the same to you, if I wanted to." He stepped toward Castlebeck until he was standing close. He put his hands under Castlebeck's arms and lifted him off the floor with ease.
Castlebeck's blood ran cold. He weighed three hundred and thirty pounds, and yet Barna lifted him effortlessly and held him up high at arm's length.
"I don't like being told no," Barna said as he slowly lowered Castlebeck to the floor. "You can help us, and we can help you. I think we can work together well—as long as you understand the situation. This is not an offer, Mr. Castlebeck. It's not open to negotiation."
Castlebeck had a chain of strip bars in Los Angeles and the San Fernando Valley called The Strip. He had a couple peepshows over on Western Avenue, along with a couple adult bookstores—one on Western, another on Hollywood Boulevard—and later, a few porn Web sites online. But his real money came from the porn movies he made. Barna and his vampires pulled it all out from under him. Once they got their claws into his business, he was nothing more than a figurehead who had to take orders from them.
Now, Castlebeck's business was nothing but a front for the vampires. They operated his two peepshows and fed on the customers when they stuck their dicks through the glory holes. They also took over his strip clubs and fed on the customers there, too. They owned the old hotel in North Hollywood called the Royal Arms, in which Castlebeck now stood, and they kept a lot of their victims there, all groggy and sleepy-eyed under whatever spell the vampires cast over them. It was from those women that Castlebeck was able to choose stars for his porn videos. He had to pay them nothing, which increased revenue considerably. They all had a bedroom air about them, thanks to their grogginess, and they looked good fucking on videotape. Some resisted, but only a little—the vampires had them under control.
Castlebeck had to pay his employees, of course, which included mostl
y vampires now. But they were in it for the blood, not the money.
He remembered watching a vampire movie on TV when he was a little kid—the old black-and-white original with Bela Lugosi as Dracula. It had frightened him badly, and his mother had taken him into her arms and held him as she reassured him that there was no such thing as vampires. He was forty-nine years old, and now he knew better. But instead of wanting to suck his blood, they wanted the business he'd spent twenty-two years building.
That, on top of his debt, was getting Castlebeck down. But now he had something Mrs. Dupassie wanted. She'd said one of the women who'd been taken from her home was a vampire, and one wasn't. Castlebeck knew Mrs. Dupassie was looking for them. He wondered if he could somehow use them to settle, or at least delay, the rest of his debt.
Driving home in his Porsche, Castlebeck called Mrs. Dupassie on his cell phone.
"I've seen them," he said.
"Seen who?" Mrs. Dupassie said.
"The women you're looking for. I know where they are."
"How do you know they're the women I'm looking for?"
"You said one was a vampire. She's got long strawberry-blond hair. The other one has short auburn hair and is older, a mortal."
"Where are they, Castlebeck?"
"Well, now, before I tell you, I'd like to know how this will affect my debt."
"Affect your debt?" She laughed. "It doesn't affect it at all."
"This is information you're interested in, I'm sure we can come to some agreement."
"What kind of agreement?"
"Well, you could knock some of it off, or you could give me more time to pay it back."
"Twenty-one fucking months isn't enough time? Look, Castlebeck, it's not my problem you got the hots for the ponies. Your time is up."
"In exchange for this information, I'd like to ask that you give me six more months."
"You'd like to, huh?"
"Yes."
She was silent for several seconds. "All right. You've got a deal, you fucking leech."
"Thank you."