So packed up and with our apartment warded, we lugged our suitcases downstairs in the hours before dawn to await our ride. The last time we went on a trip with Sally, she had shown up in a Cadillac Escalade, recently liberated from its formerly living owner. I didn’t know what the Draculas were sending us, but I hoped it didn’t smell like something that had just been driven away from a crime scene.
A short while later, a vehicle turned onto our block. As it slowed and we began to make it out, I started missing the Escalade.
While it pulled in, Tom whispered to me, “Dude, did we suddenly step onto the set of Sanford and Son?”
I shrugged, not really knowing how to answer. This wasn’t quite what I was expecting, although knowing the vampire world and their propensity for being assholes, I wasn’t surprised.
Parked in front of us, with Sally behind the wheel, was an old, beat-up Jeep Wagoneer. Towed behind it was a U-haul container that had seen better days.
She turned off the engine and got out. The look on her face was anything but amused.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I said. “This thing is older than I am.”
“You’re preaching to the choir,” she replied. “This is what they sent us.”
“Normally,” commented Ed, “I wouldn’t condone doing anything that’ll get us sent to prison for an extended period of time, but this piece of shit looks like it’s on its last legs. Maybe we should grab something a little...better.”
“Apparently,” sighed Sally, “the fucking Sasquatches are also against all the computers and fancy gizmos in modern cars. That's why we got this fine conveyance here.”
Tom, Ed, and I gave a mutual shrug and walked over.
“Put what you can in the trunk. Fit the rest in the trailer. Just be careful,” she said.
I was about to ask her why, when Tom opened the trailer and we were suddenly assaulted by fumes.
Gagging, I exclaimed, “What the hell?” before looking inside. Taking up over half the available space, stacked from floor to ceiling, were gas cans. Judging from the smell, they were full.
“To get us there once we leave civilization behind,” she explained.
“Only one problem,” Ed said. “How are we going to get past the border with a couple hundred gallons of combustibles?”
“Leave that to me, champ,” Sally replied. “For now, you just have one thing to worry about.”
“What’s that?”
“Driving,” she answered, then tossed him the keys. “I believe you know the way to Boston.”
* * *
Fortunately for us, we were allowed one modern convenience in our “luxurious” ride, heavily tinted windows. Without them, the trip would have quickly gotten a bit uncomfortable for those of us with a habit of turning to ash under the glaring light of the sun. After a couple of hours on the road, though, I was beginning to think that maybe getting dusted would be the kinder fate. Let’s just say I’m pretty sure this car was built before shocks were invented.
While my ass continued to be assaulted by the rough ride, I thought to ask, “Why are we heading up to Boston?”
“Yeah, it is a bit out of the way,” added Tom from the front seat.
“James said so,” was all Sally answered before going back to the fashion magazine she had been perusing.
Five hours later, we pulled into the car wash that served as the aboveground facade for the Northeastern vampire headquarters.
“Let me guess, we wait in the car again?” Ed asked.
“Not this time,” Sally replied. “Since you guys are part of Bill’s entourage, you get treated slightly better than the blood cows you are. Besides, it’s not like you don’t already know enough about the vampire world as it is.”
“Awesome,” replied Tom, stepping out and stretching his legs. “I have to take a piss. Vampires have bathrooms, right?”
Sally gave an eye-roll as she answered. “Yes, vampires have bathrooms. Although I’m not sure you can use them.”
“Why?”
“Simple. I’m sure there’s a ladies’ and a men’s room, but I think they forgot to install one for dipshits.”
* * *
Remembering a few of my outbursts from our last visit, Sally turned to all three of us before we entered. “One word: behave. Bill needs to show up to this summit alive, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be any accidents along the way, especially if any of you embarrass the living shit out of me,” she warned.
“So I take it that means no reenacting scenes from The Walking Dead?” asked Tom, referring to the zombies who most likely awaited us inside. That was one aspect of the undead life that never stopped surprising me. Zombies were real, but rather than lumbering across the countryside eating any hapless humans in their path, they essentially existed as clerical help for vampires. Go figure.
By way of an answer, Sally gave Tom a look that was full of enough daggers to impale a rhino. Then she turned and led the way inside.
It was pretty much how I remembered. Vampires have excellent night vision, so that means they tend to cheap out on the overhead lighting. The gloominess aside, though, the structure resembled nothing more threatening than any other office in corporate America. That being said, the cubicles that flanked us on either side were full of workers that weren’t much different from the beaten down souls you’d see in every company. They were just somewhat less alive...if only barely.
Sally’s warning all but forgotten, my roommates and I exchanged bemused glances with one another as we passed zombie after zombie performing mundane office tasks.
“Can you imagine being someone’s office drone for all of eternity?” I whispered to Ed.
“And you still wonder why Sheila quit?” he replied.
I gritted my teeth at that. Yeah, he had a point, but did he really need to bring her up now? I mean, I was just starting to enjoy myself. Great, now I’d have her on my mind for probably the entire trip to middle-of-fucking-nowhere Canada...just in time to get my face stomped in by the Boggy Creek monster and all his cousins.
I sighed, then noticed that Tom was harassing a zombie pushing a mail cart. My god, sometimes he is just like a fucking kid.
He was waving his hand in front of the office zombie and whispering, “Ooh, look at me. Tasty human right here. Yeah, I bet you’d like to munch on my yummy yummy brains.”
The zombie, in turn, was giving Tom a look that would’ve probably conveyed utter contempt, had half its face not been rotted off.
“Jesus Christ, Tom,” I hissed at him. “Stop screwing around.”
Tom turned his head and gave me a smirk. “Dude, chill. I’m just having a little fun. When am I ever going to get another chance to mess with a zom...OUCH! The fucker bit me!” Tom yelled, pulling his hand back and cradling it.
In response, the zombie gave a half-faced grin, raised up one arm and flipped Tom the finger...or part of one anyway.
I took a step forward, when I suddenly realized that all the sounds in the office had stopped. A quick look around confirmed that all eyes, living and otherwise, were turned in our direction. Make that almost all eyes. Sally had stopped walking, but she still faced away from us. Unfortunately, even in the dim light I could see that her hands were balled tightly into fists, so tight that blood was dripping between her fingers. Oh, crap.
Damn Nazi Vampires
I was split. On the one hand, Tom was now whimpering, “He bit me. I’m gonna turn into a zombie.” On the other, I could see Sally literally shaking with rage. I wasn’t sure which fire to put out first.
Fortunately, Ed was there to make that choice for me.
“Let me see,” he said to Tom. “Oh for God’s sake, you fucking pussy. He didn’t even break the skin.”
“But he bit me,” Tom again whined.
That decided it. I turned toward Sally, quickly trying to think of something to distract her from the pummeling she was no doubt contemplating. Before I could sputter some lame excuse, though, once again I was
saved.
“My dearest Sally,” came a slick voice from the end of the hall, “you do realize we have a strict policy against bringing cattle to the office, don’t you?”
I turned in that direction, already knowing whom I would see. It was Colin, James’s would-be successor. Colin was...to put it mildly...a pompous prick. As far as I am aware, people like Colin exist for only two reasons: to kiss the ass of anyone who outranks them, and to be an absolute asshole to anyone who doesn’t.
All things considered, however, I was glad to see him. Sally and he apparently had history. What history that was, I didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell me, and I had a feeling that Colin would sooner demote himself down to janitor than talk to me. Regardless, there was a definite aura of dislike between them. For now that meant whatever venom Sally wanted to unleash upon me and my roommates, she’d most likely redirect at the well dressed vampire lackey before her.
“I’m surprised to see you here, Colin,” she replied. “I didn’t realize your choke chain reached this far. With James back, shouldn’t you be fetching him coffee or something?”
Colin tittered in response. “Sally, you do so amuse me with your lack of understanding for my station. Oh, well, it’s to be expected from one of your ‘standing,’ assuming you do stand, of course. Personally I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you performed all your duties on your back.”
Ooh, massive burn from Colin. I reached Sally just in time to see her eyes turning black. I put a hand on her shoulder and then stepped in front of her.
“Hey, Colin,” I said in my best cheerful voice. “Long time no see.”
“Freewill,” he spat back, as if the word tasted bad.
Cutting straight to the chase before an office brawl ensued, I said, “James is expecting us, I believe.”
He narrowed his eyes at me, but replied, “You’re correct, and he is not a vampire to be kept waiting. Please follow me, and do pick up after your pets. We have a standard to maintain here, after all.” With that, he turned on his heel and began walking.
I heard Sally utter a snarl behind me. I spun, looked her in the eye, and said, “One word: behave.” Before she could knock me through a wall, I gestured for Tom and Ed to hurry up. I then turned and began marching after Colin, Tom’s continued whimpering of, “I can’t believe he bit me,” following in my wake.
* * *
The last time I was here, James wasn’t around, so we got no further than Colin’s desk. James's outer office was the one place here that seemed to conform to my expectations for an undead lair. Whereas the rest of the building was a typical office in most ways, this area had a much more sinister feel to it. I had little doubt it was on purpose. When one has rank, one often wants others to know about it.
With the exception of a small waiting area, this part of the office looked as if it had been carved out of the rock around us. Considering we were underground, I realized that was likely the case. The tapping of our feet on the obsidian tiled floor echoed off the walls as we approached the double doors just beyond Colin’s desk.
“Holy...well, batcave, Batman,” Ed whispered behind me, taking in the surroundings.
“Tell me about it,” I commented.
“He’s expecting you,” Colin said with a sour grin from behind his desk. Now that he had gotten in a dig at Sally, he seemed content with dismissing us. He reached under his desk, pressed something, and the doors to James’s office clicked, letting us know they were unlocked.
“This should be good,” I whispered back to my friends. I could only imagine what kind of medieval torture chamber awaited us. I was expecting to find something worthy of a James Bond villain. Perhaps there’d even be a shark tank in which to dispose of his enemies. That would be so fucking awesome.
I really need to stop psyching myself out, I thought once I had stepped through the doors. Whereas the outer chamber was decorated in early sixteenth century Vlad the Impaler, the inner sanctum couldn’t have been more of a contrast. It was like stepping into an archeology professor’s office. It was well lit with a fairly simple desk at one end. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls; all of them filled with a variety of knickknacks, most of which looked a lot older than I was - no doubt a testament to James’s nickname of the Wanderer. Off to one end, there was a coffee table and a well-worn, but comfortable looking, couch. Upon it sat James, a cup of espresso in his hands.
He stood as we entered.
“Sally, Dr. Death, a pleasure as always,” he said.
“James,” I replied as way of greeting. “These are my friends, Tom and Ed.”
“Ah yes,” he said, turning to them. “Dr. Death’s human friends. He’s told me all about you. Especially you,” he said to Tom. “You’re the one with the fetish for...what are they called...transforming something?”
“Transformers,” I clarified. Several months back, Tom had somehow imbued an action figure with a small portion of his life force, essentially turning it into a weapon against vampires, much like Peter Cushing might have used a cross in the old Dracula films. It had gotten broken during the course of that little adventure, something that Tom continued to remind me about.
“Fetish is such a strong word,” Tom replied, momentarily forgetting that he was talking to a six-hundred-year-old vampire, one who could kill him as easily as he could a gnat. “I prefer the term collector.”
“Kindly forgive my transgression,” James replied amicably enough. He was truly an odd duck amongst the older vampires I had met. Somehow, through all of his centuries of existence, he had managed to hold onto his sense of humor. Most others of our kind hadn’t mastered that feat. Hell, I doubt most of them had even tried.
The pleasantries aside, James walked to the door. He said to his assistant, “Colin, be a good chap and grab some coffee for our visitors. Perhaps some lunch too. Send one of the thralls out to a local eatery, would you?”
Having given his instructions, he closed the door, although not before I caught a glimpse of Colin’s furious expression. Heh, the fucker had just been sent on a food run. I was beginning to understand what Ed had been saying about Sheila. No matter what the station or setting, an assistant could become a glorified gofer at any given time.
James turned back toward us. “That’ll assure our privacy for a few minutes at least. Alas, despite the formidable construction outside of my office, the doors are pitifully inadequate at keeping sound from carrying.”
James pulled a few chairs from his desk over and we all sat.
“I trust the Draculas’ envoy has brought you up to speed?” he asked me.
“Yeah. Alex gave us the rundown with the Grendel,” I replied, using his word for them.
“I haven’t heard that term used in a while,” he said. “Alex, you said, correct?”
“Yeah, you know him right?”
“I’m afraid not. Sadly, even with my current standing, I am not privy to all of the First Coven’s inner thoughts.”
That was surprising to learn. Considering James was up for consideration to join their merry little bunch, you’d think they might be slightly less dickish toward him.
“Well, he seems like a nice enough guy,” I replied.
James nodded and said, “I’m sure he does. Nevertheless, I would highly recommend you keep your guard up around him at all times.”
“You don’t trust him?” Ed asked.
“As I said, I don’t know him. I neither have reason to trust nor distrust him. However, what I do know is that he would obviously be a person of significant diplomatic skill; otherwise, the Draculas would not have chosen him. Such a person would excel at coming across as likable.”
“So you’re saying he probably has his own agenda,” Ed surmised.
“Undoubtedly. He follows the will of the First and their agenda remains their own.”
“But we’re all on the same side here, right?” I asked.
“You’re almost cute when you’re stupidly naïve, Bill,” Sally commented.
“H
er thinly veiled insult aside, Sally is quite correct. While I believe the Draculas want this peace conference to be successful, there are no doubt nuances at play that will make it more or less successful by standards of which only they are aware. Should all other factors align in their favor, don’t assume they wouldn’t consider your loss to be an acceptable outcome.”
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