MisStaked

by J. Morgan

  Now, all that was in jeopardy. Brogan saw it as a direct result of NAFTA, the proliferation of the importation of American television programs, especially X-Files, which was the very reason CAPP SAT was put into power in the first place. Worst of all, if he was right, these Yanks were about to open a can of worms that could make even the Pam Anderson thing seem unsavory.

  But, who was he to criticize how they did things? His own government gave them free rein to loose the hounds of hell. He never should have come in from his self-imposed exile in the first place. If he hadn't run out of Double Stuf Oreos, he'd still be in his little cabin, happily ignorant of cellular communications and Internet spam.

  But that was not to be. He would learn to mind his own business one day. Sure, right, and donkeys would fly out his ass and bring him a handful of Cuban cigars. Brogan leaned back in his chair and listened to the professor and the other loonies decide when to get started. It was so sad it made him want a beer. Then again, when didn't he want a beer?

  "Uh, Brogan. Is it all right, if we plan to get an early start? Most of the day is already gone and there's really no reason to try to start anything this late,” Dr. Grayson said.

  "Lady, as far as I'm concerned, you can slap a two-by-four up the monkey's ass and play sit and spin,” Brogan grumbled, not believing the agency had disregarded his fears.

  No, he believed it all right. That's what happened when you let a politician run the show. What happened to the good old days, when a blood thirsty General was head honcho? They knew how to get shit done. Now, you had touchy-feely intellectuals telling you to get in contact with some feminine side you had no idea you even had. It was more than a man could stand.

  "Mr. Brogan, are you supposed to eat that cigar?” Breathred asked.

  "Shut up. I'm going for a beer. If I ain't back by morning, dig till your ass falls off.” Brogan pushed his way out of the tent.

  "Well, that sounds like an okay to me,” Stud said, picking a matted piece of pine straw from between his toes.

  "He didn't sound too happy, did he?"

  "It doesn't matter. You heard the guy on the radio. He said we could do whatever we wanted,” Luna said.

  "No, he didn't,” Dr. Grayson said. “He said to proceed, but he also said Brogan has the power to call in a task force. Whatever that means."

  "I think it means if old Mighty Mite thinks the bogeyman is coming, he can blow our butts to the moon,” Stud said, his voice as serious as death, and as sure as sin.

  Breathred felt a quiver turn his noodly bits to Jell-O. He knew with all certainty Stud was right. Brogan wasn't one to jump the gun, but something had the man spooked. Breathred wondered just how spooked they'd all be, if Dr. Grayson was right and there really was a three thousand year old vampire lying under their feet. With cold certainty he knew in the next couple of days the truth would be something they'd find out one way or another, whether they wanted to or not.

  * * * *

  Lewis checked his e-mail, while Leopold pranced in front of his full-length mirror. The young vampire did his best to ignore the older one, but it was hard. How could you not notice a white guy dressed in a purple lamé jumpsuit with a feather sticking out of the lapel. The boss man was getting worse. Before long it would look like the Rocky Horror Picture show around here.

  A ting from his messenger told him their contact had come through. He surfed through the pop-ups and assorted spam until he navigated the web to his inbox. He could have gone straight to the e-mail, but he didn't. Without knowing it, Lewis had become addicted to getting mail.

  Lewis sneaked a look at Leopold. The head vampire was preening over a magenta scarf as he tried to decide whether it clashed with his ensemble, or if he should go with the midnight-blue one. Leo's preoccupation with couture should give him plenty of time to read a few e-mails before he got to the agent's message.

  Forty-seven minutes, and twenty-six IMs later, he finally clicked open the message. Lewis ran through the message twice to make sure he read it right. Seeing no sense in rushing into one of Leopold's flights of fancy, he took a minute to gather his thoughts. Once properly steeled for the elder vamp's response, he turned toward his master. “Leo, got a message from our plant."

  "Lewis, I told you to never mention that again. My glaucoma has been acting up, and I brought it to settle my nerves.” Leopold dropped the magenta scarf in favor of the blue one.

  "Dip-shit,” Lewis whispered. “No, your inside man has sent word they've located the Mother's tomb."

  "Well, that's entirely different! Good. Now we'll see some results. Have they opened it yet?” Leopold asked, joining Lewis at the computer.

  "Not yet. According to the e-mail, it's still buried. It should take about three or four days to dig down to it. We'll get another e-mail when they have it completely dug out,” Lewis said, minimizing the screen before Leopold could look at his other windows.

  The last thing Lewis needed was for the old fop to read the latest installment of the adventures of Mistress Spank My Monkie. Damn, that broad could write some smut. One day he had to hook up with her. If she looked half as good as she wrote and did half of the things she wrote about, he'd turn her just to see what it'd be like to spend all eternity finding out if you could kill a vampire with hot monkey-love.

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  Thirty

  Neck deep in vampire shit and don't know how to get out? Buy the Boffrend Handbook Volume Three on sale soon.

  The next three days were a blur of activity with little time for anything resembling true human interaction. For most of that time the friends found time to do little more than grunt at each other in passing. The rest of the time they did their utmost to snore, as coherently as possible at each other.

  At 2:57 p.m. on the third day after locating the tomb, rounded metal struck carved stone and the world went silent. Well, not the entire world, but the general area surrounding the team did go mighty quiet. Totally quiet would have been achieved except for the clicking of a lone cricket, who had not received the memo concerning the approaching winter.

  "Send in the expendable bearers,” Stud shouted, as the last of the dirt was cleared away. “That has to be a couple of grad students nobody would miss."

  "Be quiet, you,” Dr. Grayson snapped. “I guessed it was too much to hope your mouth would be too tired to move."

  "He may have a point. No telling what gases have been building up, since it's been sealed,” Breathred cautioned.

  "See,” Stud said. “What about those two guys in the back swapping buggers? They look like they'd to do it for a coupla Scoobie snacks."

  "Stud, we are not using anyone as human guinea pigs, and that is final. We have a tool which will enable us to vent the opening without any harm to us.” The professor rubbed her temples.

  "Then, vent that sucker. I'm growing old sitting here."

  "It's not that easy, my friend,” Truehart said. “It will take us a few hours to set up the machine. Then, we'll have to put on Haz-Mat suits to insure there is no damage from contamination, should there be poisonous gas built up."

  "Stud, just be quiet. They know what they're doing, and they don't need you butting in,” Luna ordered, tweaking the monkey's ear.

  "Ow,” Stud cried. The sight of her making pinching motions was enough to silence him.

  "Look, I can begin setting up the machine. Why don't the rest of you get some food and rest? We could all use both after the past few days,” Dr. Truehart offered.

  "I could stay and help, Edmund,” Easily piped up. “I'm familiar with its setup."

  "No, need, Jessica. You'll get your chance to help tomorrow. Believe me,” he assured her with a wave of his hand.

  "Thank you, Edmund,” Dr. Grayson said before Jessica could voice an objection. “We all appreciate it."

  "Just doing my part."

  "Okay, people, you heard the Limey. Let's go grub.” Stud dashed from the hole.

  Breathred waited while everyone filed after the chim
panzee. Something told him to stick around and offer to help Truehart, despite the man's reluctance to take Jessica's offer. Somehow, Breathred doubted he would accept his, especially after what he said the other day on the trail. Still, it was the polite thing to do.

  Breathred turned as he felt Luna's hand on his shoulder. She looked as exhausted as he felt. Perhaps Truehart was right. They all needed a good meal and a good night's sleep. If Truehart wanted to be pig-headed and do it himself, why should he try and stop him? The man obviously didn't like him, so why bother? From the look on Luna's face she felt the same way. He shrugged and let her lead him to the tents.

  Breathred shoved the last bite of his roasted hot dog into his mouth, realizing he felt a bit lonely despite the crowd of people around him. He found the loneliness unsettling. Luna and Stud had gone off in search of wild berries a little while ago. Dr. Grayson was asleep in her tent. He should be asleep too, but couldn't seem to relax. So instead, Breathred sat and listened half-heartedly to the whispers that flitted through the night air.

  As tired as everyone felt, he couldn't help but notice they appeared as loath to sleep as he was. Most of them sat around in huddled conversations about the expectations of the coming day. Except for Breathred and the three professors, none had ever experienced a dig before. They didn't see the dangers of an unopened tomb. All they saw was the treasure the tomb held. Whether it was real or imagined, it was on everyone's mind, Breathred's included. He looked over to the secluded spot where Brogan had taken up watch. Breathred wondered what the man thought about all this. Ever since the radio message, the Canadian hadn't said a word. Breathred knew how he felt.

  The closer they got to actually opening the tomb, the more the dread closed in on him. It was like a black cloud descending on them. The funny thing was, he and Brogan seemed to be the only ones who felt it. He wasn't even sure Luna or Stud knew what was going on.

  That scared him. He needed them both to be on their toes. They were treating this like a summer camp adventure. If the Mother of Vampire's really was down in that tomb, the entire team was in trouble. They had forgotten all about Jessica leaving the meeting with Leopold. It was bad enough having a vampire lurking around at night without worrying about a human coming after you during the day.

  And where was Leopold at? He wasn't back in Seattle. No, he would be close by, just in case they found something, but there was no sign of him since they had crossed the border. Which made it more likely Jessica was working for the vampire, feeding him information. Breathred had tried to keep an eye on her; she didn't act suspiciously. Truthfully, he had been too busy to do a good job of it. Any time during the past three days, she could have used the radio to call Leopold. She might even have a radio of her own.

  "Breathred. Mind if I join you?” Jessica Easily asked, jarring him off the log he was sitting on. She reached down and helped him back up. “I didn't mean to scare you."

  "I wasn't scared. I guess I dozed off.” Breathred brushed dirt from his pants.

  "Whatever,” she laughed. “So, do you mind if I sit down?"

  He moved down the log to give her room. “No, go right ahead."

  "We haven't had time to get reacquainted. I'm beginning to think you're avoiding me. Or are you under orders from your girlfriend to avoid me?"

  "Luna isn't like that,” Breathred said, defensively, because she was like that.

  "You could have fooled me. I don't mean to offend you but it looks to me like she keeps you on a short leash."

  Breathred didn't say a word. Several choice ones sprang to mind. He ran them over a few times in his head to hear how they would sound, but didn't say them. It wouldn't be polite. He had always been told if you didn't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. This was one of those times to do just that, but saying them in his head was alright. God would forgive him, but Jessica probably wouldn't, if she heard what he was thinking.

  "Oh, I have offended you,” she said in the most mocking voice Breathred ever heard. “I didn't come over here to fight. I just wanted to ask you something."

  "Go ahead, ask. You know how I get.” See, I found something nice to say.

  "What happened to you? I mean it's been over ten years and not a word from you. I'm not fooling myself into thinking we were anything but friends, but even friends write each other."

  This time Breathred heard no condescension in her voice.

  "Things went bad,” Breathred mumbled.

  "And that's why I haven't heard from you? I don't accept it as an answer. I heard what happened. Sure it was bad, but not bad enough to make your friends desert you."

  "Maybe, I needed to desert them."

  "Why? Just tell me why,” she demanded.

  "Because I didn't want you to get caught up in my misery. I didn't want you becoming a pariah because you were my friend,” he tried to explain, but it all came out sounding like hooey.

  "You silly bastard! I would have stood beside you. What happened wasn't your fault. Nobody blamed you, except for you."

  "Easy to say now. Then, it didn't seem like that.” Breathred looked away.

  Jessica eased close and put her arm around him. “Breathred, I was your friend. Whether you believe me or not, I was. I still am, if you'll have me."

  Breathred looked up and saw she meant it.

  "Thank you, Jessica. That means a lot to me. It really does. There's one thing though."

  "Shoot."

  "Don't tell anybody about what happened. My friends don't know and neither does Dr. Grayson. I know it's silly, but I'd rather keep it that way.” The truth was he didn't remember a whole lot about what happened. He was afraid if he did know, it might scare him more than not knowing.

  "You got it. Now, give me a hug.” She threw her arms around him.

  The action shocked him so much Breathred didn't notice Luna and Stud entering camp at that exact moment. Needless to say, if he had, the past would have held no fear for him. The look on Luna's face was more than enough to scare the devil himself into relocating were he nearby.

  * * * *

  Lewis woke up just as the computer chimed that he had a new message. He hoped it was from the contact. Leopold had driven him bug-shit for the past few days. “Have they got there?"

  "What's taking them so long?” It was enough to make him want to drive a stake into his own heart.

  Easing from his darkened bed and stumbled over to his computer, he slapped the pink fuzzy cozy from his mouse. Damn Leopold and Martha Stewart. You couldn't go to sleep without Leo putting the damn things on everything. One night he would wake up and be wrapped in one.

  He grumbled and called up the mail. No, Mistress Spank My Monkie tonight, he was sorry to see. It was like she dropped off the face of the earth. Well, Leopold wasn't letting him enjoy it, anyway. He scrolled down until he saw the mole's addy. He opened it and leaned in to read.

  Tomb uncovered. Will delay entrance until you can get here. No one will enter tomb, until you have secured the Mother. Hurry. I don't know how long I can hold them off.

  Well, well. Looked like Leopold was going to crap his silk panties. Leo would be all for rushing up there tonight, but this homeboy wasn't going until they had a place to sleep. Lewis wouldn't get caught out in the open if they couldn't make it back in time.

  Hell, they didn't even know how to get into the place anyway. Leopold had a few hints from an old scroll he stole from Marcus, but nothing that told them exactly how to get in. He wasn't about to trust brute force would be enough to get the job done.

  Lewis rose from his chair and walked toward the other room. Might as well get it over with and tell Leopold the good news. Otherwise he would just come in here and nag him to death. He could always go out for a bite then come back to tell Leopold. No, Canadians tasted too much like maple syrup and herring for him to eat out. That settled it. He was on the bag stuff until they got back home.

  It could be worse. They could be in Wisconsin. Everybody there tasted like cheese.
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  Thirty One

  Okay take a deep breath. Turn around slowly. Boogiedy, boogiedy. That gets them every time.

  "Alright, Bitch! You have five seconds to let go of my man before I shove this monkey up in your ass,” Luna howled.

  "Hey!” Stud exclaimed.

  Luna watched as her inhuman screech sent Breathred falling off his log, carrying Jessica with him. They landed in a crumpled heap with her provocatively positioned on top of him. She didn't blame Breathred of course. He was innocent—maybe not totally, but she'd see to him later. The fact he was trying to untangle himself from the skank was a move in the right direction, but did he have to touch her squishy parts to do it? She didn't think so!

  Jessica must have caught sight of her because the skank was squirming like hell, trying to get to her feet. Luna was sure this wasn't the first time the woman found herself in this compromising position. She bet Easily had to know what was coming next. The woman managed to get to her knees when Luna jerked off her feet with the help of two handfuls of bleached blond hair, and sent her flying. Luna had the good manners to wait until she slammed into the ground before making her next move.

  "Hussy, I'm going to explain this in terms even a skank like you can understand. See that?” Luna pointed toward Breathred. “That's mine. If I see your hands on him again, I'll pull every bit of Miss Clairol-soaked hair from your head."

  "Luna, we weren't doing anything. We were just talking,” Breathred spoke up.

  Luna turned to him. One eye twitched uncontrollably, while the other one spit fire. Her lips were turned up to a horrifying snarl. If good old-fashioned common sense wasn't enough to put the fear of God into him, in the pale light of the moon it looked like she was growing a beard.