Great! I just love being cannon fodder. Nice to know that if the Bigfeet say they’ll accept peace, but only if they all get to take turns sodomizing me, that the Draculas will be all gung-ho for that plan.
“I would highly recommend,” James continued, “that you all watch one another’s backs continually and assume that anything that is said to you is of dubious intent.”
“Not to be rude or anything, but why are you telling us this?” Tom asked. “I mean, aren’t you up for membership to this group of backbiters?”
James arched an eyebrow at that. I knew I should’ve made Tom wait in the car.
“Nice knowing you, jackass,” Sally whispered from the corner of her mouth.
However, rather than eviscerating Tom as lesson to the rest of us - a deserved lesson in all honesty - James instead just shrugged and replied, “Fortunately for you all I haven’t...what’s the phrase...ah yes, drunken their Kool-Aid yet. Besides which, I have grown fond of Dr. Death here. Irrational of me, I know.”
“Cool,” I replied, trying to steer the conversation away from Tom, lest he say something stupid again. “It’s good to know you’ll have my back too.”
James looked me in the eye and gave an apologetic glance. “Alas, that may be a problem.”
* * *
“Define problem,” I said in a calm tone, despite a sinking feeling starting to permeate my gut.
“Normally I wouldn’t discuss this with outsiders present, “James began. “However, since it is painfully obvious that you tell your friends everything that goes on in the vampire community, I see no reason to play mum.”
I gave him a sheepish grin back. I didn’t look at Sally, but I had little doubt of the eye-roll she was probably now making.
James continued. “As I have said, there are other candidates being given consideration for ascension to the First Coven.”
“I remember,” I interrupted. “That’s the reason why I’m conducting this crazy train. You can’t run the show and keep watch over your own backside at the same time, right?”
“Exactly. Unfortunately, it’s become even more complicated than that. I have since learned that my chief rival is a vampire named Francois. He and I have a bit of history with one another.”
“So what’s the deal with this guy?” asked Sally.
“The deal is that: much like I currently hold jurisdiction over the covens of the Northeastern United States, Francois likewise holds a sizable area under his direct supervision. Shall I give you a hint as to where his power extends?”
There were knowing nods all around the room, except for Tom, who asked, “OK, what’s the hint?”
Ed let out a heavy sigh and asked, “Where are we going, stupid?”
“Canada,” Tom replied uncomprehendingly for a second before adding, “Oh, I get it now.”
“I highly doubt that,” Sally murmured.
“It leaves me in a difficult position,” James continued. “Francois neither requests nor wishes for my involvement in this summit. Truth be told, there is little love lost between us. As someone who has had first hand involvement with the Alma, by rights I can participate regardless of Francois’s wishes; however, I must be careful. One false move and the balance of power could tip in his direction. That would be bad.”
“For you?” Ed asked.
“For everyone,” James clarified.
Tom said, “I don’t see the big deal. Bill’s told us about you. It doesn’t sound like you have much to worry about from some French surrender monkey.”
James once again raised an eyebrow. “Despite your somewhat unique way of putting it, you’re actually far more apt than you realize.”
“He is?” Ed and I simultaneously blurted out.
“Yes. You see, under different circumstances there wouldn’t be much consideration for inclusion into the First Coven. Usually the oldest and strongest are picked. It’s tradition. Francois is by far the oldest of the hopefuls, besting even the Khan by a quarter century.”
“Then why isn’t he already one of the Draculas?” Ed asked.
“There are safeguards in place to deal with unusual circumstances. You,” he said, turning toward Tom, “mentioned the running joke regarding the French and surrender. Well, Francois went much further than that. During World War Two, Francois was an active member of Hitler’s SS.”
“Whoa!” I blurted out.
“Indeed. He is a nasty character even amongst our kind. Supposedly, he bought into their rhetoric quite fully. Not only did he join, but he revealed himself to their upper ranks.”
“So he was punished?” Sally surmised.
“Not for that, no. He was too old to be reprimanded for such a thing. If that were all he did, this tale would have a much different ending. Francois didn’t stop there, though. Whether deluded or mad for power, he decided to aid their scientists’ efforts to create a master race. As such, he allowed them to experiment on vampire blood. Even for one of his age, such a crime is considered quite serious.”
I could feel pinpricks of sweat break out on my forehead. If they found out what Dave and I were up to...oh boy.
“So what happened?” Ed asked.
“Near the end of the war, one of the Draculas perished at Nagasaki. Francois was all set to ascend to the First Coven when his actions were brought to light.”
“And that’s when the Draculas brought the hammer down?”
“Exactly. Francois was too old and had too many supporters to be outright killed. However, he was passed over for membership, allowing my sire, the Khan, to ascend. As further punishment, he was removed from Europe and given his current post.”
“Makes sense,” said Ed. “How much trouble could he cause in the frozen tundra?”
A thought hit me. “Just out of curiosity, did the person who exposed Francois happen to be nicknamed the Wanderer?”
James smiled at that. “Very astute, Dr. Death. I will admit a little bias in seeing my sire ascend. It didn’t exactly hurt my standing amongst our kind.”
“Hold on,” Sally interrupted. “I’m not getting the politics at play here. So if this Francois guy was punished, why is he up for consideration now?”
“It’s quite simple. He has survived and managed to stay out of trouble. For all intents and purposes, his sentence has been served. Regardless, due to the severity of his crimes against our kind, the others are leery of automatically promoting him. Rather than judge by seniority alone, the remaining twelve have decided to pick the new member based on accomplishments. Francois has many, do not get me wrong, but he has to prove to the elders that he has learned his lesson. If he can do that, he may very well ascend to their ranks.”
“And this peace conference would be a major feather in his cap,” I said.
“Yes it would.”
“Is it just me,” Ed asked, “or does anyone else find it a bit suspicious that the Khan, the guy who bumped Francois, got killed and then suddenly this peace conference is happening in this dude’s backyard?”
“Without hard evidence,” James replied, his tone stern, “it would be considered highly insulting within the vampire community to insinuate such.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to...”
“However,” James continued, “as you are not a member of the vampire community, you may insinuate as much as you please.”
“So that’s why you have to tread lightly,” stated Sally. “If you say anything, you look like you’re trying to set him up and then you’ll lose.”
“And a French neo-Nazi nutcase suddenly becomes one of the most powerful vampires on the planet,” Tom added. My god, he really did want to get us all killed.
“More or less, yes on both counts.”
I let out a sigh and replied, “So what you’re saying is I’m on my own...as usual.”
“Hey, I’m going to be there too,” Tom protested.
“Yep,” Sally said. “As usual, Bill, you’re on your own.”
Four-legged Vampire Slayer
> It wasn’t all bad. Colin eventually returned with our lunch. Watching him set up a table for us went a long way toward making me feel better; although, if I had to guess, I wouldn’t doubt my glass of blood also had a generous dollop of spittle in it. Oh, well, it was a small price to pay to watch that monkey dance.
James said he would be joining us up north, but he’d be arriving later than the other participants and staying mostly in the shadows. While I wasn’t too keen on putting my neck on the line just so he could get himself a big fat promotion, James had always been cool with me. There was also the fact that he had saved my ass a few times. I owed the dude and I am not one to welch on my bets. Well, OK, maybe I am, but not when the person in question can rip my head off and shove it up my ass with little to no effort.
We finished up, said our goodbyes, and resumed our road trip of the damned. Of course, once we were piled back in the car and everyone had a chance to collect their thoughts, Tom started in again.
“It probably all doesn’t matter anyway, since I’m going to turn into a fucking zombie.”
“You’re not going to turn into a zombie,” snapped Ed from behind the wheel.
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t get bitten by the disgusting undead. No offense, Bill.”
“None taken,” I replied from the back seat.
“It’s not like he chomped off your fingers, asshole,” Ed said, “You don’t even have any bite marks, so stop whining.”
“But I can feel it tingling.”
“Psychosomatic,” I replied.
“Am I the only one here who watches the movies?” he protested. “A zombie puts its teeth on you and you’re doomed. It’s only a matter of time before I start craving brains.”
“That would be a step up, if you ask me,” Sally commented from behind a copy of Cosmo.
“Sally, can you tell this idiot that he isn’t going to turn into a zombie?”
“Fine. You aren’t going to turn into a zombie, idiot.”
“There, see...” I started to say.
“Not that I would know,” she added.
“What do you mean?” Tom asked, wide-eyed.
I turned to her. “I thought you knew about zombies, Sally.”
“Yes. I know that a bunch of them work here in Boston. So do you, congratulations.”
“Don’t you know how they got there?”
“Nope.”
“What about how they’re made?”
“Nada on that too.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” she said, giving Tom and I an excruciatingly long eye-roll, “it never occurred to me to give a shit...although now that you mention it, I still don’t.”
* * *
The next few hours were long ones. As we drove north through Vermont, I plugged my 3G modem in and attempted to get a little work done on my laptop. Ed continued driving, while Sally put on a pair of ear buds and proceeded to tune us all out. As for Tom, he continued whining from the front seat, a continual stream of bullshit along the lines of, “I can feel myself starting to decay.” Forget the vampires in the backseat, considering how white Ed’s knuckles were turning around the steering wheel, I had a feeling he was beginning to contemplate reaching over and shoving Tom out of the moving car. After a while, I doubted I would have tried to stop him.
Thanks to our stopover in Boston and then some traffic, we didn’t near the border until after sundown. Sally indicated, however, that actually was perfect timing.
As we got in line for the border crossing, Ed asked, “So what exactly are we supposed to say once they ask to look in the trailer, that we’re traveling Exxon salesmen?”
“They’re not going to,” Sally replied blithely. “Pull into lane five.”
“Lane five is closed.”
“Not for us it isn’t,” she said. “Pull in and flash the lights three times.”
Ed shot me a dubious look via the rearview mirror. No doubt, he was thinking we were all about to enjoy a nice long strip search at the Canadian border. Regardless, he did as told. He pulled into the closed lane, enduring a few annoyed beeps from the other cars in line. He flashed the high beams (which weren’t all that high in this clunker) and sure enough, the light in the lane switched from red to green. That elicited a few more angry honks.
“Watch and learn,” Sally said, rolling down the back window.
We pulled into the booth and Sally leaned out. I could see by her profile that she had blackened her eyes and brought her fangs out. The border guard leaned over and spoke to her.
“Your coven?”
“Village from New York,” she replied.
“Purpose?”
“Business.”
“What business?”
“First Coven business. Do you really want to ask more?”
The guard’s eyes momentarily flashed black revealing his undead nature, although whether out of shock or annoyance I wasn’t sure. He quickly composed himself, though. He looked toward the front seat, where Tom and Ed sat, then gave a quick sniff of the air.
“Technically you’re supposed to declare any food you bring across the border,” he said.
“They’re just snacks for the road,” Sally replied.
“Speaking of which,” the guard turned his head toward the cars which had followed our lead into this lane, “it is almost dinner time. Carry on. May the First smile upon you.” With that, he gave us a sort of salute and waved us through.
“What was that about?” I asked.
“There’re a lot of ass kissers out in the field,” she said dismissively.
“Did he mean what I think he meant?” asked Ed.
“About what?”
“About the cars behind us?”
“Probably,” she said with a smile.
“Serves them right,” Tom commented. “Line cutters are assholes.”
* * *
We continued north. After another hour, I took a turn behind the wheel. That lasted all of fifteen minutes before my companions demanded I pull over. Tom then got in the driver’s seat.
“What?” I demanded. “The speed limit said ninety.”
“Kilometers an hour, shithead,” he said. “Even I know that.”
“Besides, you were driving like an ass,” Ed commented.
“Was not.”
“You were weaving in and out of the lanes.”
“It’s been a while since I’ve last driven,” I offered as way of excuse.
“And it’s going to be a while before you drive again,” Tom said. He then adjusted the rearview toward Sally. “How much farther until we stop, Ms. Daisy?”
One corner of Sally’s mouth turned upwards at the joke, but she stopped short of a chuckle. “Keep going. We’ll find a motel before dawn.”
“All night?” Ed asked.
“Yes, all night,” she replied. “This is a vampire mission, thus we’re keeping vampire hours.”
Tom sighed. “Ugh, I’m going to need a coffee stop, maybe a few.”
“Fine,” Sally said. “Just pull in at the next Tim Hortons you see.”
“Too late,” I replied, looking out the window. “We just passed one.”
“Yep, and now we’re passing another,” she said. Sure enough, she was right. “This is Canada. Trust me; they have one on every corner.”
* * *
“I want the bed tomorrow,” I complained, stepping out of the motel room.
“Sorry, Bill, but it doesn’t work that way,” Ed said. “Tom and I are the ones playing chauffeur, ergo you get the floor.”
“Screw that,” I protested. “Guest of honor at the peace conference standing here. I show up all disgruntled from sleep deprivation and the world could end. Do you really want that to happen?”
“If it means not having to listen to you whine like a bitch, than yes. I’m cool with it.”
“Why do we have to share a room anyway?” Tom asked.
“Sally said the Draculas only budgeted for two.”
“Do you believe her?”
“Not even for one goddamned second,” I replied. “But all of the coven credit cards are in her name.”
“I don’t see why she gets one all to herself,” Tom sniffed.
The Mourning Woods - 03 Page 10