HERE BE MONSTERS
A collection of tales about vampires, demons, and other horrors
M.T. Murphy
S.M. Reine
India Drummond
Anabel Portillo
Jeremy C. Shipp
Samantha Anderson
Sara Reinke
Alissa Rindels
Jose Manuel Portillo Barrientos
Copyright for each story is held, all rights reserved, by the individual authors. All rights reserved.
License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Anthology Table of Contents
Blackmail
M.T. Murphy
Something Wrong
S.M. Reine
The Reaver
India Drummond
Lux
Anabel Portillo
Figs
Jeremy C. Shipp
Deals and Demons
Samantha Anderson
Periphery People
Sara Reinke
Spider Bag
M.T. Murphy
Dark Fantasy Art
Bartleby
Midnight Requiem
Pendulum Swing
Nightingale
Sins of the Father
by Alissa Rindels
Lamia
by Jose Manuel Portillo Barrientos
Author Biographies
Blackmail
M.T. Murphy
©2011
All rights reserved.
Edited by Erin Stropes
It wasn’t every day that Tim knocked a beautiful woman flat on her back. He stared at her from atop his clumsy six-foot, three-inch frame, wishing he could turn back time.
“Oh my god. I am so sorry.” He knew the words couldn’t possibly convey his horror.
The young woman sat up and crossed her feet as elegantly as one could do in such a situation. She had long black hair and the greenest eyes he had ever seen. He expected her to be hurt, furious, or both.
Instead, she laughed. It was a warm and carefree sound, one that made him feel far more comfortable than it should have. After all, he had bowled her over like a stampeding ox as soon as the elevator doors opened. It didn’t get any more ungentlemanly than that.
She stood before he had a chance to offer to help her up.
“It is all right. The hour is late and you wish to go home,” she said. “I should have known better than to wait directly in front of the elevator.”
“No, I’m an oaf. It’s totally my fault.” He shoved his hand out at her with a weak smile. “I’m Tim from accounting.”
She shook his hand. Her grip was stronger than that of most of his male colleagues. It was the kind of grip that demanded one’s full attention.
“Hello, Tim from accounting,” she said with a warm smile of her own. “I am Lucy. It is nice to meet you.”
He liked the way she said his name. Her barely perceptible accent made it sound like the letter “t” was just a little heavier than the rest.
He tried to think of something witty to say. Nothing came to mind.
“You are here late, Tim. Are you working on anything exciting?”
He glanced down at his leather satchel, suddenly remembering why he had been in such a hurry. “Not really. Just a special project for my boss.”
“Something that will benefit all of us in the Romana family of companies, I hope?”
Tim frowned. “We’ll see.” He shook off the gloom and jumped as the elevator buzzed at him for blocking the doors open too long. He moved out of the way and stuck his hand in front of the impatient doors, holding them open for her. “I’m really sorry about, you know, acting like a human bowling ball. Could I buy you a cup of coffee sometime?” Inwardly, he cringed. Knock her down, then hit on her. Subtle as a caveman.
“I am not much of a coffee drinker,” she said, stepping into the elevator.
“Ah,” Tim said, and released the doors. He knew a polite rejection when he heard one. He couldn’t blame her.
“But”—she held out a business card which he snapped up greedily—“I would love for you to stop by my office sometime so we can chat.”
He nodded like a confused puppy. She smiled again. The doors closed and he took a step back, watching the floor numbers change on the digital display. Lucy’s suit had been crisp and elegant, much like the rest of her. She was probably a personal assistant for one of the reclusive executives. It would figure that one of those dirty old men would hire himself a woman like that to ogle.
The lobby of the Romana Industries tower was empty save for the spiky-haired blonde woman stalking around the front doors. The woman worked as bodyguard and additional security for the executives. She made no effort to hide the fact that she was staring at Tim. He nodded politely but she did not return the gesture.
He glanced back at the elevator. The display indicated that it had stopped on the thirteenth floor—the ultra-private executive floor, only accessible by a numeric code held by a handful of people.
“Figures,” Tim said to himself. Then he looked at the business card.
Lucille Romana
President and Chief Executive Officer
A chill ran down Tim’s spine. He had a crush on the very person his boss was planning to blackmail.
He rushed out the front door, pretending to ignore the menacing glare of the spiky-haired blonde woman.
*****
An hour later, he recounted the tale on the old couch in Barry’s apartment.
“You actually met her?” Barry asked. “I’ve been working there for four years and never saw her once. You’ve been there three months and you’re practically dating?”
“It’s not like that. I was getting off the elevator. She was getting on. She was really nice considering I nearly killed her.” Tim paused, replaying the scene in his mind. “And…”
“And what?”
“She’s pretty.”
Barry thumped him on the head. “Get your noggin in the game. She’s the enemy.”
“I told you I don’t want any part of this.”
“Tim”—Barry tapped his chin and wrinkled his brow as if deep in thought—“I’m drawing a blank here. Who was it that loaned you the money for that last year of grad school when they cut your scholarship?”
Tim grimaced. He knew where the question was heading and he didn’t like it. “You did, but—”
“Who made the other seniors stop beating you up every day in high school when he was a senior and you were a freshman?”
“You did.”
“And whose family took yours in when your good-for-nothing father left?”
“Yours,” Tim replied.
“And who helped you get a dream accounting job right out of college when you had no other job prospects?”
“You did.” He wanted to point out that he had paid back the loan and his mother had paid more than their share of the rent and other expense
s for the month they stayed with Barry’s family all those years ago. That didn’t change the fact that Barry had helped him again and again. Reminding him of that seemed to be one of Barry’s favorite pastimes.
“You’re like a brother to me, Tim—albeit a younger, stupider brother. I’ve always looked out for you and I need you to back me up on this.”
“Barry, how much money do you make?”
Barry waved away the implications of the statement. “I make low six figures, but you don’t understand. I have some…vices.”
After resisting Barry’s invitations to go with him to the casinos every weekend for the past two years, Tim was actually very aware of the man’s dirty little “secrets.” If gambling debts, drugs, and prostitutes were riches, Barry would have been King Midas.
“Look,” Barry said. “I got invited to a celebrity poker game after hours last month, but I was already out of cash. To make a long story short: I owe some guy named Vince seventy-five thousand dollars by the end of the week.”
“Have you thought about talking to human resources at the office? They always talk about us being a part of the Romana ‘family.’ Maybe they could…”
“They could what?” Barry yelled. “Fire me on the spot?” He took a deep breath and regained his cool. “I’m sorry. Did you bring the package I left?”
“Yes.” Tim removed the brown pack from this bag. “I don’t see why you couldn’t bring it.”
“It would have been too suspicious if I did it.” Barry opened the box and shuffled through the contents. “Did you look at what’s in here?”
“No,” Tim said.
“Good. Plausible deniability for you.” Barry flipped through the documents, stopping at one very old photograph.
Tim couldn’t see the image, but the corners of the photo were rounded and the back had yellowed with age. It had to be at least fifty years old, if not older.
“Our CEO has a secret,” Barry said, “and I think the price tag for keeping that secret is a cool 1.5 million dollars.”
“Let’s set aside the fact that you are obviously bat-shit crazy for a minute. How did you arrive at that number?”
“Don’t you pay attention, rookie? This company makes so much dough that anything less than two million is not even a blip on the radar. It’s a rounding error. I’ll pay back what I owe to the sharks and take a million for myself. I know a guy in Costa Rica who needs a financial director for his new resort. I’ll take that job and retire in style at the ripe old age of thirty-four.”
“And the rest?” Tim asked, already afraid of the answer.
“That is your cut just for helping me with a few simple, untraceable tasks. You deserve it. I won’t take no for an answer.” Barry reached into his work bag next to the couch. “Check this out.” He tossed a dark object toward Tim’s face.
Tim caught the thing in self defense. He turned it over in his hands, and it took him almost a full second to realize what it was. “A gun? Why do you have a gun?”
Barry shrugged. “Hey, man. These are some rough characters I owe. It’s just for protection.”
Tim moved slowly, placing the gun on the table as though it were a bomb that was ready to explode. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Barry. This is getting crazy.”
He wanted stay and argue with his old friend, but the thought of what Barry wanted him to do made him nauseous. Instead, he went home and dreamed of guns, loan sharks, jail cells, and the CEO’s gorgeous green eyes.
*****
When Tim arrived at the office the next morning, Barry was sitting at Tim’s desk, using his computer. “What are you doing?” he asked.
Barry jumped, obviously startled. “Sorry. System update was taking forever on my machine, so I was just surfing on yours. Had to check my messages.” He took his time, finally getting out of Tim’s chair after making several more precise clicks of the mouse. “I’m sending the CEO an email today to request a meeting tonight.”
They were the only two people in that corner of the building, but Tim still glanced around nervously. “Why are you talking about it out loud like that? Are you nuts?”
“Relax. I made friends with one of the security guys who works in the main control room. He said that only the entrances and exits are monitored. They don’t even log what websites we visit. Thank God for that, otherwise they’d have fired me years ago.” Barry laughed and punched Tim in the arm.
“Barry, we have to talk about this. There’s no way you’ll get away with it.”
“It’s fool-proof,” Barry said. “I’ll send Miss Romana a taste of the incriminating documents via a totally untraceable email account and tell her where to wire the cash. Once the transfer is made, the receiving account will split it up and send it to forty-three separate accounts in fifteen different countries. By the time they track them down, I’ll have run that money through several legit businesses and made it so squeaky clean you could eat off it.”
He reached into his pocket and produced a piece of paper with two series of numbers scrawled on it. “Before I forget, here is the account number and phone number for the bank with your cut.” He folded the paper and placed it in Tim’s shirt pocket, not giving him a chance to protest. “Don’t worry, I made sure yours goes through twelve different banks on its own. It is completely untraceable.”
“What makes you think she’ll go for this instead of calling the police?”
“It really is an offer she can’t refuse. Her choices are to call the cops and lose everything or pay the measly million and a half bucks. She’ll pay.” Barry’s confidence spilled out in the form of a smug grin.
Tim couldn’t help but see the specter of prison bars in their future.
“Look, Barry. I told you I don’t want any part of this. I’ve already done more than I wanted to. Just do me one favor. Don’t set this in motion today. Sleep on it. We’ll put our heads together and figure something out so you don’t have to do this.”
Barry scowled. Tim knew he was nearly impossible to dissuade once he’d set his mind to something, no matter how crazy it was. But, surprisingly, after a moment the scowl softened and Barry smiled. “Fine. Waiting one day won’t kill me, I guess. Let’s meet in your office tonight at eight. I have some month-end stuff to finish so I’ll be working late anyway. Go grab a bite to eat when you’re done with work and come back. I don’t know how the hell you think we can figure out a way to make enough cash to pay off my debt, but we can talk about it.”
They parted with a nod. Tim was surprised at how quickly Barry had caved, but he felt a little better. After Barry left, he looked at the computer and found that the last thing he had done was clear the internet history.
Tim shook his head. “Barry and his porn. I don’t even want to know.” He spent the rest of the day working and trying to figure out how to raise the money without breaking the law.
He finished up his work well after sunset and walked by Barry’s office door on his way to the elevator. It was closed, as it was every month when crunch time rolled around. He could hear fingers furiously banging on keys as Barry drafted the monthly summary for the executives to let them know the state of financial affairs. He had his issues, but Barry was a wizard when it came to numbers.
Tim rode the elevator down to the third floor. The bell rang and he reminded himself to look before rushing through the doors. They opened and he jumped.
“Hi, Tim.” Lucille Romana smiled and stood patiently outside the elevator.
He stood with his mouth agape for several seconds before rational thought returned. “Hi…uh…Lucy. I didn’t knock you down this time.” Smooth.
“I appreciate that,” she said.
A moment of awkward silence passed. Lucifera glanced into the elevator behind him. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. Great. Never better. You?”
“I am well.” She was still smiling, but a look of concern had crept into her eyes. “Are you sure you’re all right? Is there something you wanted to tell me?”
My friend is a psychopathic dope fiend and gambling addict who is planning to blackmail you. Also, he’s armed and I’m pretty sure he downloaded a gigabyte of x-rated videos on my company computer.
“Uh…no.” He realized he had been blocking her path to the elevator and she was waiting on him to move, so he quickly stepped out of the way and held the door for her. “Sorry.”
“No apology needed,” she said. The doors started to close, but this time, she stopped them. “Tim, if you ever want to talk, feel free to stop by my office on the thirteenth floor. The code is six, six, six. I know it is rather silly. Security is somewhat lax here on the inside, but that is why we only hire people we know we can trust.”
“Yeah, trust,” he said, twisting his face into an approximation of a smile. “See you later.”
“Goodbye,” she said.
Tim took a deep breath to keep from trembling and made his way to the company café. Thankfully, it stayed open twenty-four hours a day to accommodate the company’s sometimes grueling work schedule. Grabbing a sandwich from the cooler, he took a seat two tables away from a man and woman he vaguely recognized from the logistics department. They were in their early thirties and were part of the lucky group that was able to get away with wearing polo shirts while everyone else was stuck in business suits. From their posture, it was fairly obvious that the man was very attracted to his khaki-skirt-wearing coworker while she barely knew he existed. Tim knew the scene well. He had played the part of the harmless, sexless guy-friend more than once.
Tim wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but the woman was speaking loud enough that he didn’t have much choice. She was relating the story of her sick mother who had been on the verge of losing their family home just weeks earlier. The poor job market and mounting medical bills had drained their finances to the point where foreclosure was imminent. Tim strongly suspected the woman’s coworker was feigning interest in her family while biding his time to change the subject to a sexier topic.
The ending of the story caught Tim’s attention. The woman had related her mother’s plight to someone in the human resources department. Within a week, the company had purchased the house from the bank and worked out a modified payment plan that would allow her and her mother to buy the home at a fraction of the cost. Earlier in the day, the woman had received a personal note from the CEO thanking her for her loyal service and wishing her mother well. It was almost too good to be true.
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