by Ray Garton
"I told you, she was angry with me at the time."
"When did you tell me that?"
"Didn't I tell you that?"
Keaton shook his head once. "I don't remember you telling me that, no."
"Well, that's what happened. She was angry with me, and she left. I was in my office, on the other side of the house, listening to a CD on headphones."
"Were you working?"
"Yes, I was."
"You always listen to music on headphones while you work?"
"Often, yes."
"What music were you listening to?"
Burgess thought about his CD player and the last thing he'd listened to on it. "It was Tusk. Fleetwood Mac."
"When did you notice your wife was missing?"
"I went out to the kitchen for something to eat—"
"When? How long after you thought she'd left?"
"Oh, uh . .. I'm not sure. I didn't check the time."
"You don't know what time this was?"
"Like I said, I didn't check the time. The way I work—I don't pay much attention to time. I try to become immersed in whatever I'm writing. I can't be checking the clock all the time. I have no reason to."
"And what did you notice?"
"I heard her car running out in the garage. I looked out there and found the garage door open, her car parked, and the engine running. But she was gone."
"Where did you think she had gone?"
"I thought probably one of her friends had come by, and Denise had taken off with her. That happens a lot."
"Why would she leave the car running?"
Burgess's heart was pounding. He was good at coming up with lies, but he had no confidence in his ability to deliver them.
"No reason," Burgess said. "My thought was, she'd been in her car, a friend had driven up, and she'd gotten out of the car to talk to her. They probably talked a little while, then her friend invited her to come along with her and go shopping, or whatever, and Denise completely forgot about leaving the BMW running."
Keaton folded his arms slowly across his chest as he studied Burgess's face. "What did you do?"
"I turned the car off and closed the garage door."
"You didn't wonder where she was?"
"Like I said, it's very common, when her friends come by, for Denise to drop what she's doing and run off with them."
"Did you call anyone?"
"Yes, I called a couple of her friends, but neither of them answered." Burgess immediately doubted the wisdom of that remark.
Keaton uncrossed his arms and took a notepad from his shirt pocket. "Who did you call?"
Burgess took in a deep breath, let it out slowly. "Okay. I didn't call anybody."
"Listen to me, Mr. Burgess," Keaton said firmly, pointing a finger at Burgess's chest. "I will not stand for anymore bullshit from you, do you understand me? Yesterday, you were talking to me about vampires that worked for Victor Barna, for crying out loud. Now you're telling me you didn't call any of her friends?"
"Yes, that's right."
"Why did you say you did?"
"Because you seem to think I'm some kind of cold, uncaring husband, I can tell, and I didn't want you to continue thinking that of me. It's not true."
"Why didn't you call any of her friends?"
"I know my wife, Officer Keaton. She was pissed off at me, and the way she usually punishes me is by going out and spending a buttload of my money." That part was not a lie. "It never occurred to me that she'd been kidnapped. It's too common for her to just up and take off with someone, especially if it's to go spend a buttload of my money. I was pretty sure that was what had happened."
"What did you do?"
"I worked awhile longer, and then I went to bed."
"What time was that?"
"I don't know, two o'clock, two-thirty, two-forty-five."
"And she hadn't shown up?"
Burgess shrugged. "Like I said, we'd been fighting, and she was really pissed at me."
"Did it have anything to do with the fact that you reek of garlic?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact, it did."
"Why do you reek of garlic, Mr. Burgess?"
Burgess smiled. "I eat a great deal of garlic. For health reasons. The garlic pills really aren't enough, and they don't work as well as real garlic. I cook with it all the time."
Keaton narrowed his left eye as he looked intensely at Burgess for several seconds. "It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with vampires, would it?"
“I’m sorry about that. I, uh... I'd gotten too wrapped up in something I was writing, that's all."
"Do you do that often?"
"I'm in therapy for it." It was true, he had a therapist, but it had nothing to do with his writing. It was, instead, about some midlife doubts he'd been having about himself. Personal doubts, cosmic doubts. "I've been in therapy for almost three years."
"I see," Keaton said with a nod. "Well, I let the vampire story go. I could've arrested you for obstructing justice, but I let it pass, I want you to remember that. I won't be so generous if you start lying to me again."
"I'm not lying to you. I'm telling you what I should've told you in the first place."
"Do you have any idea—even a vague guess—as to who might've done this to her?"
Burgess shook his head. "I don't have a clue. Everybody loves Denise. People who can't stand me love Denise."
"No call demanding ransom?" Keaton said.
"No."
"How was she returned to you?"
Burgess told him how it had happened—no lie was necessary.
"And you took her to the hospital?"
"Immediately."
Keaton pointed at him again. "If I find out you're lying, I'm gonna charge you with everything I possibly can, you understand?"
"Yes, I understand. But I'm not lying."
"You're saying you didn't realize she'd been kidnapped until they brought her back and dumped her on the porch?"
"I swear to god, it never crossed my mind. I was too busy getting drunk because I was afraid my marriage was over. I thought she'd left me."
Keaton nodded. "I'm going to monitor your wife's condition, and as soon as she's off that painkiller, I'm going to talk to her."
"I don't know how long that will be," Burgess said. "She has a broken arm, a broken leg, and a fractured collarbone."
"All very small fractures. Fortunately. I talked to her doctor. I'm very interested in what Mrs. Burgess has to say about what happened to her." He reached over and patted Burgess's shoulder once. "I'll be in touch." He smiled, turned around, and ambled off.
Burgess went back into Denise's room and stood beside her bed. He watched her sleep for a long time.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Karen Moffett!" Darin called.
There was no response, and he'd seen or heard no one since the six stunned vampires he'd killed in the center of the corridor. He reached the end of the corridor, calling Karen's name repeatedly. He passed the rotting corpses on the floor—he winced at the awful smell emanating from them—then went on past the elevator.
"Karen Moffett!"
He slowed his pace a little when he heard something—scratching on a door, and someone crying loudly on the other side—and ran his left hand back over his buzz-cut hair.
Darin felt bad that he had to ignore whoever it was who scratched at that door. He only had time for one rescue, and then they still had to get out of the building.
He reached the end of the main corridor, turned around, and stopped so suddenly, he almost tripped over his own feet. Standing a few feet behind him was a tall, beautiful woman with short dark-red hair and freckles on her cheeks. She wore a sleeveless black blouse and a dark green broomstick skirt. The top three buttons on the blouse were loose and displayed a scoop of cleavage. His eyes met hers, and he found he could not look away.
She smiled and said, "Where've you been all my life, honey?"
Darin wanted to raise his gun, b
ut he found himself overcome with lust for the redhead. He felt a familiar tightness in his pants.
She unfastened the next button on her blouse, then the next, still smiling. "You're a vampire, sugar. You shouldn't be living the way you do. It goes against everything you are." With her blouse completely unbuttoned, it fell open in front and revealed pale, round breasts with rosy nipples. She unfastened the skirt and let it drop to the floor. She wore nothing underneath.
Darin felt everything but his desire for the beautiful woman in front of him drain out of him, as if he'd sprung a leak. He was losing his will—it was being sucked out of him.
She stepped toward him, reached out for him, and flashed her fangs.
Norman was very suspicious. Since he had shot down the man with the shoulder-holster, he had seen no one and heard nothing. The corridor had about it a creepy emptiness, even though he knew there were people beyond those doors. Mrs. Dupassie had told him about this place last night. He was disturbed by the fact that they were there to rescue only one person, when the hotel was fully occupied by people who desperately needed help. But he was very realistic about his situation—he knew the chances of them getting out of there with Karen Moffett were slim, as were their chances of getting out at all. But if he were to die that day, Norman was determined to take as many brutals with him as he possibly could.
He had traveled the length of the corridor and gone down the short side-corridors, calling Karen's name. Norman decided it was time to go back to the manhole. He went to the elevator and reached out to push the button, when the elevator's bell rang and the door opened up. Inside the car stood four men, two in front of two, wearing sunglasses and suits with slight bulges beneath the jackets on the sides.
Norman squeezed the trigger and moved the gun back and forth, spraying bullets into the four men. The two in front fell back on the two behind them, and all four of them slammed against the elevator's back wall. Norman followed them with the gun as they slid down to the floor. He stepped forward and shot at the heads, moving the gun from one to the next. Brains splashed against the faces of the two men in back, and against the wall.
Norman stopped shooting when the elevator door started to close. He held out a foot and nudged it, and the door opened up again. He stared at the four men, watched them begin to decay.
He quickly stuffed his gun in the satchel and grabbed the feet of one of the dead vampires. He pulled the corpse out into the corridor. He did the same with the other three. He kicked the elevator door every time it tried to close. When he was done, he got in the elevator and let the door close. He punched the button with a B on it, but the elevator started upward.
"Dammit," he muttered as he took the gun out of the satchel. He changed magazines as the elevator rose, then stood with the gun ready to fire.
As the elevator ascended, the smell of the blood on the floor and walls filled Norman's nostrils. He licked his dry lips as hunger clenched his stomach.
When he saw the fangs, Darin fired the gun. The bullets entered the redhead's guts at point blank range, and there was a spray of red behind her. Blood gushed from her mouth as she went down.
Darin stood over her and fired into her abdomen, until her tanktop was in tatters and her belly was mush.
The ringing in his ears from all the gunfire was worse when he stopped shooting.
The woman on the floor quickly began to stink.
Darin changed magazines, stepped around her, and headed for the elevator. He had no reason to believe Karen Moffett was on the third floor. It was time to go down to the basement and make his way back to the manhole.
"Shit," he said when he looked up at the floor lights above the elevator. It had already passed his floor and was on its way up. He pushed the down button.
Keoph and Davey stood frozen in place as the albino held his knife to Karen's throat.
"You're in over your head," the vampire said through his fanged smile.
Karen reached behind her and felt for the albino's genitals. She found them and squeezed his testicles with all her strength.
The vampire screamed and dropped the knife.
Karen dropped to the floor and shouted, "Shoot! Shoot! Shoot!"
Keoph and Davey fired. The tangy smell of cordite rose in the corridor. Davey fired only once and most of the vampire's head disappeared.
The albino vampire fell to the floor, but rolled over and started to get up again.
Keoph stepped over to him and fired bullets into his back as Davey destroyed what remained of his head. Karen crawled out of the way and got to her feet.
Keoph turned to her. "You okay?"
Karen said, "No, I'm not, but I'm ready to get the hell out of here."
"Let's go," Davey said as he stepped over to the elevator and pushed the button.
A moment later, the bell rang and the elevator door slid open.
Karen gasped when she saw all the blood.
Norman stood in the middle of the mess with his gun aimed at them, ready to fire. The instant he saw them, he lowered the gun.
"I don't know about you guys," Norman said, "but I'm ready to go."
They got in and the elevator started downward.
The smell of blood was heavy in the car. Davey closed his eyes a moment as a wave of hunger passed over him. The smell made something rise up in him, something he'd been fighting for eighteen years—a powerful lust, directed now at Karen Moffett, who stood beside him. He looked over at her neck and imagined he could hear the pulse of her blood through her veins and arteries.
The elevator stopped on the third floor and Davey crushed the hunger inside of him, pushed it aside and focused on the situation at hand.
They raised their guns, ready for the worst.
The door opened on Darin, who stepped in without wasting a second.
"Let's get the hell out of here," Keoph said as he pushed the B button.
The elevator seemed to take an eternity to reach the basement. When it did, they heard the muffled sound of the bell outside, and the door slid open.
Something naked and bony with a gelatinous face and fangs bared bounded into the elevator.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Seated behind his vast desk in his massive Barna Tower office, Victor Barna opened a deep bottom drawer. It was filled with prepaid cell phones. He never used the same one twice—he did not trust them, and he believed it brought bad luck. He plucked a cell phone from the drawer and punched in a number. He waited for an answer. It was a long time in coming. "Hello?"
"Who is this?" Barna said.
"Oh, Mr. Barna. It's Frank. Castlebeck."
"Castlebeck. What the hell is going on over there? I've called repeatedly, with no answer. Do you know how many cell phones I've gone through trying to reach someone over there?"
"There's something very strange going on here, Mr. Barna."
"What?"
"I'm ... not exactly sure."
"Have you seen Anya?" Barna said, irritated. "I haven't gotten any answer from her office or her cell phone."
"I haven't seen her."
"Well, find her, and tell her to call me immediately. Got it?"
"Got it, Mr. Barna. But you should probably know what's going on here. There's been a lot of gunfire. Machine guns."
"What?" A chill passed through Barna. He quickly reminded himself that he had made sure there was nothing in or about the Royal Arms that could be connected to him. "Machine ... guns. What the hell is happening there, Castlebeck?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well, for god's sake, don't you think somebody should find out?"
"Yes, probably."
"Well, Castlebeck, here's a thought—why don't you be that somebody." Then he raised his voice: "Call me back in ten minutes with some answers, Castlebeck, do you understand me?"
Barna pushed the phone's Off button and tossed it into the waste can beneath his desk. The can already contained several cell phones.
His first instinct was to go over to the hotel
and see for himself what was happening. But he did not dare go near the place, especially if something was happening that might draw attention from the outside. The fact that it was taking place in the middle of the day was not good—Barna had no friends on the police force who worked the day shift.
Barna had no choice but to wait.
Frank Castlebeck was afraid he would urinate into his pants before he could reach the employees' rest room down the hall. He sighed as he finally emptied his bladder into a urinal. He was in the back corridors of the Royal Arms, behind the front desk.
Barna wanted him to find out what was going on— it almost made him laugh. Castlebeck found it amusing that Barna actually thought he would run headlong into machine gunfire to find information for him.
Fat fucking chance, Castlebeck thought as he went to the sink and washed his hands.
He stepped out of the rest room and a completely hairless dwarf with flippers instead of arms, latched onto Castlebeck's left leg and sank its fangs into his thigh. Castlebeck cried out in pain and kicked at the dwarf with his right foot. He lost his balance and fell down. He crawled away from the thing, kicking his bitten leg, head turned back to look at the thing that was now making ugly sucking sounds.
When Castlebeck looked ahead, he stopped crawling.
A woman with dark, matted hair crawled over the floor toward him, digging the sharp claws of her webbed hands deep into the carpet to pull herself forward.
"Feeeed us," she whispered.
Castlebeck had been told by Anya and other vampires to stay out of the water-heater room down in the basement. He'd gone in there once, anyway. He'd seen the door in the floor. And he'd heard the sounds coming up from below. He'd visited a state mental hospital once to visit his half-sister, who was schizophrenic, and he remembered walking by the dayroom filled with people who babbled, groaned, or just made babylike noises as they wandered back and forth. The sounds he'd heard coming from under the basement floor were very reminiscent of the sounds he'd heard in the mental hospital. Babbling, groaning, or sloppy baby noises. It frightened and unnerved Castlebeck, and he hadn't been able to get out of there fast enough. He had never gone back down to the water-heater room.