Vamp-Hire

by Rice, Gerald Dean

  “I can’t. My daddy is a ghost.”

  The matter-of-factness of it woke Nick the rest of the way up. He automatically didn’t believe Tommy in the same way most adults didn’t believe the incredible things children sometimes said. However, if vampires could exist who was to say ghosts couldn’t?

  “I’m sorry to hear about your daddy, Thomas. I lost both my parents. Maybe you could ask your daddy to stop.”

  It sounded ridiculous the moment it came off his lips. Either the boy was exaggerating and his not-dead daddy was beating his mother, or his daddy really was dead and he felt abandoned or something. Nick supposed there could be a third option where the boy’s father actually was a ghost and really was manifesting in some manner and attacking his mother, in which case what he’d just said would have come off as insensitive even to a five-and-a-half year old.

  Thomas weeping on the other end of the phone answered that question.

  “Look, kid, I’m sorry. I don’t usually come off as a jerk, I’m really an okay guy.”

  “Won’t you help me? Pretty please?”

  Nick felt something shift inside and wasn’t comfortable where he was sitting. He stood and didn’t feel comfortable on his feet. He walked around, feeling something at the center of his back. This annoyed him because he knew why he felt this way.

  He was going to help Thomas regardless of whether or not his father was dead.

  “Thomas, I can’t come there today. Maybe not tomorrow either. You should see me by Saturday, though. Do you think you can hang on until then?”

  Thomas made an effort to suck up all the crying sounds. “Mm-hmm.”

  “It’ll be okay.” He added the next two words with hesitation, not knowing what ‘it’ even was. “I promise.”

  Thomas sniffled in response. Nick hit END on his cell.

  The time read 11:17 on the display. He’d slipped off for four hours without even realizing it. He had to hustle if he was going to make it to lunch in time.

  * * *

  Nick had taken the long trek down Livernois to get to Thai Delight. He needed to put a heavier coat on his short list of things to purchase, and that short list was getting longer by the day. Not that the cold had been particularly harsh— Nick was never bothered by the dip in temperature— it was the stares from other people. Despite considering himself relatively Spartan, one of the things Nick wanted most was to fit in. That meant acquiring things to look how other people looked, which included the latest shoes or proper outer wear to give the impression he was just as subject to the hot or the cold as anyone else. He didn’t want to be a vamp and tried to minimize that aspect of himself as much as possible.

  He supposed that was why he’d ultimately cowered when P and Dwight had hit the Big Pig. It wasn’t only being afraid of them, it was also being afraid of himself. He feared that if that aspect of him was allowed free reign then he might lose control of himself. Maybe he’d wind up being like those killers. And a killer definitely didn’t fit in with the rest of society.

  He’d given up hope for a cure while he was still at the Center. It had been explained to him that science, as advanced as it was, was still decades away from even partially understanding what this new virus was and how it worked. Even the way it had been detected had been a fluke. All they knew was that it was an offshoot of vampirism, an affliction that only one man had truly understood. Rather than only studying it for the betterment of mankind, Walter Irvine had reactivated the long dead virus somehow and infected himself. He had been patient zero of the eventual vampire apocalypse and thanks to him, the world had forever changed.

  Nick crossed the parking lot of the plaza where the Thai restaurant was nestled between a dry cleaner and a tanning salon. Dolph’s black Hummer was already parked on the far end, backed into a space for easy exit.

  He checked the time on his cell. A couple minutes away from noon. Nick had been surprised that Dolph wasn’t an early riser, but was certain the man didn’t make a habit of arriving late.

  He spotted the man through the glass door near the back of the tiny restaurant, hunched over a menu. Nick entered and Dolph lifted his head at the sound of the tinkling bell. The man gave no impression he’d either seen or recognized Nick as he approached the table.

  “Hey,” Nick said, meeting the cold-eyed stare.

  “Have a seat.” Dolph went back to the menu.

  Nick picked one up too. None of the names of anything sounded familiar. While the chocolate had been great for starting up his appetite, there had to be something that could do the same thing by itself.

  “Anything look good?” Nick asked.

  “No. I’m allergic to peanuts.”

  “Oh. Do you want to go somewhere else?”

  “No. I’ll just order carefully.”

  They spent several minutes perusing the menu before a pretty Asian woman with shoulder-length hair came over. She had on a golden dress, Nick recognized it as a qipao, despite having no idea how he knew that word.

  “How are you two doing today?” she asked in near accentless English. “Can I get you anything to drink before you order?”

  Dolph lifted his head and smiled at her. Again, the naturalness of such a normal gesture threw Nick off. It appeared to be genuine. Maybe Dolph liked Asian women or something.

  “Water for both of us.”

  “A big boy like you, I bet you have a nice appetite, huh?”

  “Re ca thả xỳāng dī txn nī̂ thī̀ khuṇ xyū̀ thī̀ nī̀,” Dolph said. “Yes, we are ready to order.”

  The woman’s eyebrows lifted slightly and she bowed her head slightly. “Oh, you speak Thai?”

  “A little.”

  “Your pronunciation is perfect.” Her cheeks had turned a little pink and Nick wondered what he’d said. Language definitely wasn’t his Skill. There’d been a girl at the Center who could translate and read any language, no matter how obscure.

  Dolph’s smile was still hanging by one corner of his mouth. “I’ll have the pla lad prik. One thing, though. I have a peanut allergy. Is there any way—”

  “No problem at all. I’ll make sure to speak to the chef. How spicy would you like it?”

  His eyes flicked back to her. “Very.”

  “Is that the hot or the very hot?”

  “Very hot.”

  “And you?” she asked, looking at Nick. He’d almost forgotten he was in the room. For some reason the flirting going on between them seemed wrong, like watching your parents make out. Wasn’t Dolph married?

  “I’ll have…” he looked at the menu again, “the ginger fish.”

  “Good. And to drink? Or is the water fine?”

  “We’ll have water for now,” Dolph said.

  She collected their menus and he watched her go. And go. Nick watched him watch her go and it was more uncomfortable by the second.

  “Soooo, about my dream,” Nick said. Dolph’s eyes settled on him, the joy in them turning off like a light.

  “What about it?”

  “I remembered some more stuff.”

  “Like?”

  “Well, before we get into that I—y’know, I’d like to… to get compensated if I can.”

  “You what?” Dolph narrowed his eyes and put two fingers to his ear.

  “I want to get paid.” Nick sounded like a whiny eleven year old even to his own ears.

  “You want to get paid to do your civic duty?” Dolph narrowed his eyes even more.

  If he slits them any more he’d fall asleep, Nick thought. The effect they had on Nick was quite the opposite. They felt like the ocular equivalent of sniper beams.

  “It’s not my civic duty,” Nick said, finally getting annoyed. “Look, you dragged me out there to help. I didn’t get paid a dime, but I bet you did. You have to know how hard it is out here for a guy like me.”

  “So what? Go back to the Center.”

  “I don’t want to go back to the Center.”

  “Why not? They took good care of you there, di
dn’t they?”

  They had.

  “No. I can’t go back there. I just can’t.” Nick didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t even want to think about it. “I’m out here now. And I’m going to do everything I can to stay out. You help me, I help you.”

  “So it’s like that, huh?”

  “Yeah, it’s like that.”

  “Good.” He smiled and it didn’t come off as genuine as before. “Nothing wrong with getting paid for your work. If what you remembered helps at all to find this guy, I’ll see to you getting paid.”

  “No. I want to get paid first. I didn’t ask to dream about this guy and I have no idea whether or not he can see me too. I could be in danger.” Nick had said that on the fly, but come to think of it, there was no reason to believe he wasn’t in danger. The thought immediately chilled him.

  “So we put you in a safe house.”

  “What is that going to do? If this guy can locate me where I am now, he can locate me wherever you put me.”

  “And what’s money going to do?”

  “I don’t know, make me feel like this is worth it on some kind of level. Look, I’m hanging my neck out here; I don’t think a paycheck is too much to ask.”

  “You’re right.” Dolph finally blinked. Nick thought he could count on one hand how many times he’d seen him do that. “I’m used to… scrutinizing people. I’ll see to it you get paid weekly for as long as there’s official use for you. You have my word.”

  That meant something to Nick. He told him what he’d remembered, Dolph nodding the entire time. Their food came and there were Dolph’s eyes, lingering on the waitress again. She hung around a few seconds longer than necessary, looking at him too while she refilled water glasses that weren’t yet half empty.

  “So any chance this guy is a real vampire?”

  “Not likely. Scientists reverse-engineered the original virus Walter Irvine created and put something into the air that was poison to them. Humans could breathe it no problem, but all vampires were dead within seventy-two hours of release.

  “Do you think this reverse-engineered virus is the reason for people like me?”

  Dolph shrugged. “I don’t know anything about science except what I’m told. I heard it isn’t. They don’t know. What you have is likely some kind of genetic evolutionary response from the vampires before they died. My wording is probably wrong, but what’s coursing through your veins isn’t the result of the final response. At least not directly.” He took a sip of water. “So about this dream,” he said, switching back to the subject at hand. “I hope you aren’t hanging your hat on urban myths about vampires. Do you know why we brought you in to view the body?”

  “Well, it wasn’t to identify her,” Nick said. “She’s a vamp, right?”

  “How would I know? Besides, she’d been murdered. That hardly matters.”

  So either Dolph didn’t know or the guy was just that cool. Nick had hoped to surprise it out of him. He decided to switch tactics.

  “Maybe I’m curious. I mean, I don’t get to meet too many people like me. I’d like to know. Maybe I’ll ask Leonard.”

  “You still haven’t met anyone like you. She was dead. And remember what I told you about Leonard.”

  Nick wasn’t sure if Dolph was right about that. They certainly didn’t like each other and if Dolph was a consultant, then he officially wasn’t on the team. After the way he’d been dismissed, for all Nick knew, Dolph would like to solve the case himself to show them up.

  “Let’s cut the crap here,” Dolph said after shoveling a forkful of food into his mouth. “You don’t know anything, do you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You just so happen to remember a dream you had of the girl being murdered? That seems a little convenient to me.”

  “No. I really had the dream. And it was her.”

  “Are you sure it was her?”

  “Yes. A hundred percent.”

  Nick felt on the defensive. He wasn’t counting on being doubted and his dream was all he had to go on.

  “I don’t know. Maybe you really just want it to be her.”

  “Why would I want that?”

  “Because you want to get paid.”

  “Okay, how about this? I’ve had other dreams. Matter of fact, I had another one last night.”

  Dolph cocked an eyebrow.

  “I saw through the killer’s eyes again. He was behind the guy and jumped on him, biting him and sucking his blood.”

  “He killed this one too?”

  “Yes. He threw the guy’s body at his friends as they busted into the room to save him.”

  “How many friends?”

  “I’m not sure. Three or four. I could only see what the killer was looking at and he didn’t seem too concerned about them. He knew he could kill them, just wasn’t interested in trying.”

  Dolph took a healthy swallow from his glass. “How did he get away?”

  “He jumped out a window.”

  Both of the old man’s eyebrows went up.

  “How is everything?” the waitress said from behind Nick.

  “Very good,” Dolph said. “Just the right amount of spice.” There was that smile again. He didn’t bother turning to look at her, simply nodding his head.

  “Do you need anything at all?” she asked.

  “Not yet,” Dolph said. “I’ll let you know.”

  She nodded, lingered again, and left.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. “Aren’t you married?” Nick said.

  “Yes, I am.” The shutters behind his eyes went back up. “Why are you asking?”

  “I—” He quickly considered the segue and decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. “Never mind.”

  “So, you were saying how our killer jumped out a window of a high-rise apartment building. Any idea which one?”

  “No. Any idea where that woman was killed?”

  “I like your thinking. Sometimes serial killers travel. For all you know he did this in Ohio. The next time he might be in Kentucky.”

  “All the more reason for us to jump on this now, right? The longer we take, the harder he is going to be to catch.”

  “Actually, the opposite tends to be true about these things, but I catch your point. What made you think that girl is a vamp?”

  “A hunch. Do you really not know or are you pulling my leg?”

  Dolph made a face. “I really don’t know. It’s classified. I asked.” Nick wished he’d been able to check her eyes. Not every vamp had eyes like him, but it was a good indicator more often than not.

  He could see in Dolph’s face it bugged him to be out of the loop. Everything about the man screamed military—his haircut, his demeanor, the way he dressed, even the vehicle he drove. He was on the outside looking in, though. Nick could sympathize.

  Dolph coughed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He was more than halfway done with his meal and Nick hadn’t even eaten a quarter of his. Another fail. Thai food tasted as bland as everything else. He was about to ask Dolph if he had any more of those chocolates from the other day when he coughed again.

  “You okay?” Nick asked. Dolph made a face and nodded. He still held the napkin up to his mouth as if he were nauseous, and Nick waited for him to actually speak. He could tell something was off.

  “No.” Dolph’s voice was constricted, like he had something caught in his throat. He dropped the napkin onto his plate and began reaching for the black puffy coat on the back of his chair.

  “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  Dolph went on fumbling with his coat another second before turning back to Nick. Hives had broken out on his neck and his eyes, drained of all of his cool confidence, were swelling shut. His head seemed to grow before Nick’s eyes.

  “Pen,” Dolph strained to say. “I need…” He put his hand to his throat and pulled it away. His eyes were narrow slits now and his reddened face looked on the verge of bursting. Nick leapt out of his chair and came to his side. He got
on one knee and dug into the pocket Dolph had been reaching for. Inside was a slender plastic tube about eight inches long, “Epi-Pen” and some other writing on the side. He looked at Dolph who was nodding at him, reaching for it, but his already big hands were like oven mitts. Dolph managed to get the cap off, then resorted to pounding the table when his hands could not do what he wanted. He thrust it back to Nick and slapped his thigh.

  “You want me to give you the shot?”

  Nick had never liked needles, and he could see the man was in no shape to do it himself. He looked around for the waitress who was nowhere in sight. They were the only patrons here too, so it had to be him.

  Dolph hit the top of his thigh with the side of his fist. Nick thought he understood. He had to jab the needle into his leg. What about the plunger, though? Dolph punched him in the chest, probably to get him to focus, to hurry up, but he almost toppled over. Even when he was near choking to death he was strong as an ox.

  “You gotta help me, Dolph. I don’t understand!” Nick grasped the Epi-Pen and folded the old man’s meaty paw around his hand. His palm was sickly warm. Dolph lifted his arm and drove the needle into his thigh. Nick tried to let go and Dolph’s crushing squeeze kept the syringe in place.

  He gasped for breath and whispered, “One more,” as he opened his hand and let the syringe fall to the floor. Nick made a face, then reached into his coat pocket again and found another needle. He popped the cap, raising the syringe in both hands and stabbed Dolph in the thigh again.

  Whatever was in this stuff worked fast because Dolph seemed to be breathing easier already.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Nick asked.

  “9-1-1,” Dolph said and then fainted. His breathing was heavy and labored, like something unnatural was in his lungs the air had to get around. Angry red hives where everywhere Nick saw skin. He snatched his cell out of his pocket and dialed. After a few prompts he was speaking with an operator and gave her their location and the nature of the emergency.

  An ambulance was there in five minutes. Dolph’s breathing had gone shallow. Nick could hear the congestion in his lungs, like a ball bouncing around his rib cage. The waitress had come out in that small space of time and had begun speaking rapidly in Thai. The cook and one other person came out and after the waitress had apparently spoken some choice words to the cook they began shouting at each other.