“Your friggin’ founding fathers didn’t have toilet seats. They didn’t have toilets!” I smacked the mayor with my bouquet and spun on my red bow heels. “I am so out of here, even if I have to walk back to Miami.”
Bram turned to the mayor with fire smoldering in his eyes. “We are on church grounds where our rules prevail. I declare this particular Vulgarian tradition null and void.” He flipped the “V” document in the air where it caught a breeze and drifted out over the Black Sea disappearing in a dark cloud.
Standing a head taller than the mayor, Bram chest bumped him back two steps. “Sit down, Mayor Cushion.”
I caught sight of Mina in a willow tree soundlessly clapping her hands.
“The wedding will proceed,” Bram said.
Roger and I resumed our loving gaze. I felt Little Roger kick two joyous thumps.
Bram ran through a traditional American exchange of vows which did not include obeying or any other form of forced servitude.
“If there is anyone here who objects to this marriage speak now.”
“I do!” A craggy voice came from the bushes.
It was Croc, still partially dressed like Michael Jackson with a touch of Loutish cop. He stumbled to within three feet of me. I couldn’t bear the sight of him.
“Our divorce isn’t final. I am still married to this woman.”
“The hell you are, you delusional maroon. We were legally divorced and then you died at sea. That’s two strikes.”
“You are still in possession of marital assets.”
The urge to sock him was overwhelming but I was dressed like a lady.
“I’ve got this,” Roger said, yanking Croc by his lapels. He flipped him over his shoulder and onto the ground behind him in a neat jujitsu move.
Croc caught his breath and scrambled to his feet. He came at Roger. I think I saw a touch of jealousy in my ex’s eyes. Either that or he’d been off his meds for way too long. His pupils filled his entire eye sockets.
Roger hauled off and delivered a haymaker. I’d never seen him actually land one before. The sound was a satisfying crunch that took place somewhere in the neighborhood of Croc’s jaw. Maybe that would knock some sense into him.
There was no treasure. The icons Roger and I rescued from Charlie Hook belonged to the British Museum. If those two Louts working for Croc were expecting a share they were in for a big let down. Their boss was delusional.
It was an odd sight as the groom, the maid-of-honor, and the priest carried my very ex-husband off into the woods. They returned, brushing their hands and adjusting their clothes. They took up their positions on the pavilion and we resumed the ceremony.
Bram strayed from the standard vows and looked fondly at Roger and me. “A real marriage takes place in the heart. Happy is the man who finds a true friend, and far happier is he who finds a true friend in his wife.”
Roger and I held each other’s gaze. I was his friend and I wanted to be with him for the rest of my life.
His dark chocolate eyes brimmed with love. “I do!” he said.
My turn. “I do!”
I’d no sooner said those magic words than three masked Louts appeared. I could tell they were Louts by their lederhosen and cowboy boots. The two bigger galoots grabbed my arms and lifted me carefully from the pavilion. These guys weren’t Croc’s henchmen, they were gentlemen thugs.
“I now pronounce you man and wife,” Bram said rather quickly.
“What the fudge do you think you are doing?” I snarled at the Louts.
Squirl jumped after me giggling and chirping. “This is the best part. You’re being kidnapped!” she said.
“Whose side are you on?” I growled at her. “Traitor!”
“Oh don’t be mad. It’s an old Vulgarian custom. It’s lucky for the bride to be kidnapped from the wedding.”
“It’s lucky for you they are holding my hands or I would be wringing your neck.”
Out of the corner of my eye I caught sight of Mina hanging upside down from a willow branch grinning like a happy bat. She was in on it, too.
“I have been kidnapped in every adventure. This time I refuse to go. I’m now a married woman and I want to go home!”
I looked at Bram for confirmation. “We are married now, right?”
He nodded but looked befuddled. He was a priest-out-of-water.
Squirl was dancing in front of me like a demented rodent on betel nuts. “That’s why they are kidnapping you. They will ask for a ransom from your wedding godmother on behalf of your husband.”
Smelly thugs were carrying me off and I was having a ridiculous conversation with a hyper innkeeper. I felt the baby kick as if he wanted out immediately.
“Roger! Save me!”
Two goons had their mitts on my man holding him in place. He struggled, stomping their arches and elbowing them but they held him fast.
Freeing his hands he placed them on either side of his mouth to megaphone his voice. “I’ll have you back in no time. Hang on! I’m coming!”
Roger head-butted one of the Louts but fell to the ground from the impact. I could have told him his head was no match for Lout potato-filled noggins.
The kidnappers smelled of oily beards and fried pancakes. They wore Tyrolean hats over limp shoulder length hair and clearly hadn’t showered in a month.
“Watch the wedding gown, buster!” He was stepping on my hem with his dirty cowboy boots.
I kicked as much as a pregnant lady in a long dress can. They were on to me and dodged my blows.
“You must be kidnapped! It’s a tradition!” Mayor Cushion called. “I cannot certify the marriage without the kidnapping.”
“Fudge you, Cushion! I’ll have you recalled. Your chads are about to hang you. Kidnapping is my middle name and you are going down. You can take your Vulgar tradition and stuff it up your …”
The Lout kidnappers plunked me in a backwards-sitting rocking chair strapped to the flatbed of a pickup truck.
Cushion ran a skeletal hand through his few wisps of hair. “You must go with them until your godmother ransoms you,” he said.
I snarled like a mad dog and reached out for Kit. “Help me!”
Three Louts had him pinned to the ground. He had gigantic runs in his panty hose and his feet were shoeless. He fought like a deranged dame from Downton Abbey but to no avail.
I heard Roger cursing and looked to the left. He was now tied to a tree with the hausfrau stroking his face. Poor Roger. Poor me.
Mina had her hands over her mouth trying to balance in the tree while giggling.
“Listen you fools! I don’t have a wedding godmother!” I tore from their meaty hands but they instantly had me again. I decided it was best to play along because of the baby.
Squirl skipped forward. “I’m your wedding godmother. I have the ransom.”
“This is not funny. Do I have to go with them? Give them the ransom now.”
“For it to be lucky they must carry you off. Not to worry. They are only taking you to the Van Helsing.”
Oh goodie. The pickled monks, Renfield, and I can hang out until the ransom is delivered.
Squirl blew me a kiss. “I’ll bring the ransom right now.”
Curiosity kicked in. “How much am I worth?”
“One roasted chicken.”
I sat backwards in the back of an old pickup truck in a decked out rocking chair with a seat belt. I felt like Granny from the Beverly Hillbillies. White and gold streamers blew in the wind, and tin cans clattered from the rear bumper as we made our way down the hill to the Van Helsing. Kidnapped and held for the exorbitant amount of one roasted chicken. Yes, I was very glad the New York Times wasn’t covering our wedding.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The kidnapper Louts carried me in the rocking chair to the front porch of the Van Helsing. Carefully they placed the rocker on the porch and undid the seatbelt. I looked around the front yard. Had it only been a few days since we arrived at this lunatic asylum?
> The Louts lowered their butts onto the front steps and waited for the roasted chicken handoff. They said something in Vulgarian and laughed. The joke was on me.
I rocked back and forth trying to forget how badly I had to pee. I put my mind to solving the unsolved quandaries as a distraction.
Where were the monks? Had Renfield taken them to safety or were they in even more danger from the former abbot? I couldn’t imagine him harming them, but then what did I know about Renfield other than he was Mina’s father?
Time to put on my Pythonesque brain. Why was Edward the vampire monk hiding in the confessional booth? If Renfield hid in the same confessional booth then he must weigh the same as a duck. If he weighs the same as a duck and he’s Mina’s father then Renfield must be a vampire.
If Mina didn’t drink blood but someone was regularly sipping from the elderly of Loutish, it must be a vampire duck or Renfield. If it’s the old abbot then he has hidden the monks from the Vatican Vampire Investigators using the tunnels. And the confessional booth may be a portal to the tunnels.
The smell of roasted chicken cut through the air. I strained to look up the dark road to the abbey and the festivities. Festivities? Hah!
Roger, Kit, Bram, and Squirl, along with the roasted chicken, arrived at the same time. My hyper bridesmaid handed the chicken to the Lout kidnappers. They received it and turned me over to my husband. Wow! Roger Jolley was now my husband and maybe even my soul mate. I ran down the steps and into his arms.
Even as I hugged him the ground beneath our feet rumbled. And a thundering Whap! Whap! Whap! forced us to our knees. Roger sheltered me with his arms.
Spotlights lit the sky slicing beams between the thick trees. Back in Miami that would mean the cops were chasing criminals. In Loutish it meant the Vaticopter had finally arrived. Reinforcements were here.
The moonlight illuminated first one, then two, and finally a total of three humongous choppers fighting for landing space amid the grounds of the Van Helsing and the bordering forests of Vulgaria.
One copter moved toward the monastery. The noise and the driven wind from the propellers were followed by screams and stampeding as the panicked Louts headed downhill and toward the village. I imagined they mistook the choppers for the Lugosi Comet returning to eat them all.
Two choppers resembling giant black wasps landed in the parking lot of the Van Helsing vibrating the ground like an earthquake. The tunnels! The land beneath Loutish was a honeycomb of underground passages. I grabbed Roger as he clung to me throwing his body between the fierce wind and me.
“The monks are in the tunnels,” I said. “I think Renfield is a real vampire. You need to save the monks before he converts them into permanent vampires.”
Mina appeared above our heads. “The real entrance to the tunnels is in the confessional booth, the exit is miles from here at the very south end of the village. Hurry!”
The Jolley brothers, Kit, Squirl and I commandeered the hillbilly truck and headed toward the chapel at five miles an hour. Mina flew ahead zipping through the night, invisible. The crowd of lumbering Louts racing toward the village made for slow progress. It was like cutting through herds of oncoming sheep.
Mina greeted us at the chapel door. “I thought I couldn’t come into the church but here I am.” She looked bewildered.
I hugged her. “It’s okay. I think that part of the legend is bogus.”
Roger and Bram stood adjusting their eyes to the darkness.
“That way!” I pointed to the confessional booth. “It’s a portal to the tunnels. I’m sure Renfield has the monks down there. Be careful! Edward might be with him.” I yanked a cross from the wall and handed it to Roger. Bram pulled his from under his collar.
The Jolley’s ran into the confessional as the ground beneath the chapel shuddered. I dashed after them as the booth caved in burying Roger and Bram in a pile of debris.
“Roger!” I screamed.
No answer.
Kit, Mina, Squirl, and I tore at the fallen timbers and crumbled stone. I called Roger’s name over and over. Tears blurred my vision. I was operating blind, fueled by my adrenalin.
The ground quaked. The end of the nearest pew fell into a yawning sinkhole. I grabbed for Kit’s arm. He helped me to my feet as the floor angled up on one end. “This is no place for you. Think of the baby!”
Crack! Something overhead split. More beams fell into the aisle as the door of the confessional booth fell in on itself.
“Wendy! Back away. Bram and I are unhurt. Get out of the chapel!” It was Roger’s voice … muffled, but alive.
“I can’t leave you!”
“Get the hell out now!”
Crash!
The altar fell forward missing me by inches. Kit dragged me away from the booth. I tripped over something not stone and not wood. I looked down. The Book of Names!
I grabbed the Book, clutched it to my chest and followed the girls outside. The building was coming down.
The Vatican SWAT teams covered the ground like a hill of black ants in search of sugar. They were mixing it up with the remaining Louts who were trying to salvage their potato salad and reclaim their empty labeled casserole dishes. I’d never seen potato salad move so quickly.
It was like a nightmare where you can’t be heard. The Vatican SWATS needed to know Roger and Bram were trapped. I pushed my way through the stampede and approached a VVI wearing a black hood, ninja priest clothes, and carrying a crossbow.
I fought for breath, the words stuck in my throat. “In the chapel, in the confessional, priests and civilians are buried. Tunnels run from there throughout Loutish. The earth is caving. Please shut down your rotors. The ground beneath is an eggshell of passageways. It can’t stand up to the vibrations.”
The single SWAT motioned for help and sent another ninja priest to walk us from the chaos. The entire area was lit up like a midnight concert in the park. The lights from the Vaticopter cast a wide glaring arch.
We were back at the wedding pavilion. I dropped to the ground and hugged my knees. Roger was buried with his brother. I said an out-loud prayer and willed him to live.
The Whap! Whap! of the rotors ceased.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Sitting on the pavilion, I opened the Book of Names. Rudolph Renfield’s name was the first in the book with a birth date of January 1093. He was the Abbot-in-Charge when the Lugosi Comet first appeared over nine-hundred years ago. If I read the entries correctly, Renfield had been controlling the comet for centuries. He was the vampire behind the comet’s bloody sweeps.
Each page carried separate notations of monks who had been sent to the comet for conversion into vampires. These were the monks who had ostensibly left the order or vanished. No record of where they were sent after their graduation from Renfield’s Lugosi Comet School.
I dropped the Book in my lap, as a flash of fire caught my attention. Flames spewed from the residence side of the monastery. Oh no! If the fire spread to the chapel the smoke would travel into the tunnels and suffocate anyone trapped below ground.
I stood as if to run and help, but what could I do? Flippin’ helpless.
Mina huddled in a ball on the ground, her dark eyes reflecting the flames. Kit had his arm around me. Squirl stood at my side anger radiating from her sweet face.
Despite the crime-scene lights from the Vaticopter, an ominous shadow fell over us. I shivered as Squirl dropped to the ground to hide. It was too late. Edward swooped in and seized her in his claw-like hands. She screamed.
Mina beat on his head. She was no match for his pent up sexual frustration. He flipped her off and she fell with a thud. He was headed out over the cliff taking poor Squirl with him. Kit launched himself at the monk’s ankles where he dangled like a giant blue fairy. He would drop to his death in the Black Sea if Edward carried him over the cliff.
I had no weapon. No cross. No garlic. Just my waxed dental floss. Super-strength. I fumbled in my bride’s bag and pulled out the floss. I unrave
led it and stood in the light exposing my neck to Edward. I do have a nice neck. It was more than any vampire could resist.
The vampire plunged toward me like a hawk targeting a rabbit. He held Squirl to his chest, his hand wrapped around her ponytail. The terror in her eyes told me she was not under his spell. She was scared silly.
Edward dove in for the kill. I dodged his mouth and wrapped the dental floss around his neck in one clean swipe. He lifted off, struggling to hold Squirl and free himself.
My brilliant last minute plan to cut off his head with my super strength floss might just work. I held on as the floss sliced my right hand. I wrapped my gown around my other hand and took hold of the sharp string as Edward mounted into the sky.
Mina scratched at his eyes.
Edward dipped for an instant. Just long enough for me to free one hand and yank Squirl loose.
Mina caught Squirl and threw her toward the willow tree where she lodged in a hollow of the trunk.
Edward snarled looking around unable to tell where she was. Good enough.
Now he really had a hard-on for me. I was less his captor and more his captive as my hand was tangled in the end of the floss. I tried to behead him with a string slice using my weight to cut through his neck like a piece of cheese.
He was dragging me over the cliff.
Kit leaped up and grabbed my body in a useless attempt to pull me to earth.
I was inches off the ground when Little Roger kicked. Oh my god.
I closed my eyes and prayed for a miracle.
“Let go!” A voice commanded.
I opened my eyes. It was Croc.
“I owe you this.” He wrestled the floss from my hand and wrapped it around his own. “Name the baby after me,” he said as he swung into the sky and then threw himself over the cliff plunging into the sea. His weight was enough to slice the vampire’s neck.
Edward’s head scissored off and fell into the Black Sea.
I took the few shaky steps to the cliff and looked down. Nothing but dark rolling waves looked back at me. Croc, Edward, and his head were gone.
***
We huddled on the pavilion—Kit, Mina, Squirl and I—watching the Vatican Vampire Investigator SWAT team extinguish the ruins of the monastery. Carfax Abbey was no more.
Vulgarian Vamp (A Wendy Darlin Comedy Mystery Book 5) Page 13