Nope. Not in the least. I’d just make a mental note to stay on her good side. At least I was able to kill that seed before it took root in my brain.
Chapter 5
The next few days went by like nothing had happened. To be honest, I rarely thought about Rog. Every once in a while I’d wonder where the idea had come from to turn him. Was I really that cold? Was it a random thought, sprung from the moment, or was I really that vindictive?
I pushed those thoughts from my mind and kept my nose to the grindstone. I finally got all of the enforcers’ profiles up to date, entered into the database and even had a map mounted on the wall with names attached to each area. Of course the coasts had more enforcers and the central region covered vast areas, but that’s to be expected.
Their training regimen was almost finished. The hardest part was judging these guys’ capabilities. Currently I planned to rent out a spot big enough for the two hundred-fifty plus enforcers and have monthly get togethers, well, more like sessions. We could spend part of the time going over procedures, then the rest on physical training. I had to keep reminding myself that not all of their duties included hunting down and killing. A lot of it was reorienting their operatives’ mindsets. Not all crimes warrant the true death; hell, we all break rules. Some people just needed to be pointed down the straight and narrow.
I had to keep reminding myself that I had stayed under the radar of the council for centuries, neither of us realizing the other even existed. I had no doubts that there were plenty out there like myself. Try as I might, I couldn’t think of a way to reach these outsiders and let them know that there were others, a support group, a community….And rules.
Believe it or not, the council didn’t just police their own kind. They also provided certain specialty services for those who sought them out. They maintained a series of blood banks and resources for vampires and other creatures who wished to stay out of sight of humans entirely. They even offered counseling services to help some of us older vampires in dealing with the modern world.
In the past, we needn’t worry about things like being photographed. Old style films were developed using silver salts, and even though it was just an image, the silver didn’t react well to us. We usually came out as blurry or smudged. I’m sure it vexed many a photographer in the past; made laughingstocks of many true vampire hunters.
But now, with digital everything? Any vampire can be captured in an image and that is troubling. Nearly everybody has a digital camera in their pocket, and there’s no “good side” when you’re draining a bum. Cell phones might be handy, but they’re a vampire’s worst enemy. And everybody has them set up to film at a moment’s notice. It’s terrible, I tell ya.
If we could find a covert way of putting the word out to those who still lingered in the shadows…let them know that we are out here and willing to help. Let them know that there are services at their disposal. But how do you reach those lingering in the shadows, afraid or unwilling to step out and seek what else may be out there? And of course, we had to be able to reach them without the humans discovering what we were up to; fliers and tweets were not the answer. I shelved the thought for another time when my mind was feeling more creative.
I stood back and studied the map. It would appear that somewhere here in the north Texas area would be the most centralized location for us to meet. I’d made a mental note to have Laura find an appropriate location and set about securing it for us when she pulled the doors open.
“Professor has something for us.” She was smiling. It always made me feel good when she smiled at me like that.
“I’ll get my coat.”
* * *
I filled her in on my plans and she made a note in her PDA to find a secure location, preferably a place with few to no windows. She also mentioned that not all of the enforcers were on bagged blood. I had no clue how to locate and procure live donors for that many vampires. She said she would take care of it. I decided it best to let her. I really had no idea how she would do it. Put an ad on Craigslist?
We pulled up to the large building where we met with the professor and Laura practically ran up the steps. I think she was more excited than I was. Now that I think about it, I really wasn’t all that excited. I don’t know why. This had been my main goal since learning that Thor had tossed my soul into the great beyond. You would think I would be as happy as a child during Yule.
Her short little legs sprinted up the steps and she turned and waited for me, her enthusiasm evident as she held the door open. I trudged up the stairs, prepared to tell her that it took a lot more energy to move somebody my size up the steps than it did for someone her size. She said nothing, though she bounced on her toes a bit as I crested the top and she ushered me in.
“Come on now. No dragging your feet.” She practically pushed me down the hallway. “I know you don’t really like this place, but be a big boy. Show some oomph.”
She pulled open the door to his optical laboratory and we both stepped in. The professor greeted us with a wide grin. “I want to thank you for bringing me this project. I’m not sure why this is so important to you two, but it’s been very important to me. The translation is finished.” He pulled out a short stack of papers and handed it to her. “It’s a book of religious ponderings on the essence of the human soul.”
“Are there any…I dunno, ceremonies or rituals in here?” Laura dove right into the papers, her eyes scanning the translated words.
“Well, yes. There are a few archaic ceremonies.” The professor leaned against the counter, his face anxious. He cleared his throat and nodded to Laura.
She gave a slight, “oh yeah” and dug into her pocket. “As promised.”
I was caught off guard. I wasn’t sure what was going on until I caught the glint of gold in her hand. She let the one ounce coins drop one by one into his hand and I distinctly counted ten. I gave her a quick glance and she shrugged. “His fee.”
I knew what the current conversion rate and was surprised. “Pretty steep, isn’t it?”
The professor gave me a shy grin. “It’s what she offered.” He turned quickly and handed her a large folder stuffed with more sheets. “And, as agreed, here are all of the copies we made. There’s a flash drive in there with the translation works that I did. There are no other copies…”
I gave Laura a curious look and she quickly shoved the file into her satchel. “Thanks, doc.” She was still smiling as she turned to the counter, splaying the pages out before her, her eyes still scanning the translation.
The professor cleared his throat again and she looked up. “If you decide to publish this work, I would, ah…appreciate a mention in the credits, or perhaps the opportunity to study it further?” He gave her an expectant look.
She nodded. “I can’t guarantee we’ll get it published, but if we ever do, trust me, you’ll get the credit for the lion’s share of the translation.”
“Thank you.” He turned and pulled his coat from the back of a chair. I got the distinct impression he was ready to leave and I didn’t blame him.
I hooked her by the arm and gave a gentle pull. “I think the good professor is ready to call it a day.” She looked up and nodded, embarrassed.
“Of course. Sorry. I just got pulled into…yeah, we’re going.” She stuffed the pages back into the file folder and led me out of the building.
Once we were back in the truck she continued digging through the pages. “I think there might be something here.”
I started the truck and backed away from the curb. “Something we can use?”
“Definitely.” She held the page up, her face painted with a broad smile. “It’s basically a séance. We can call your soul home.”
I nodded, not really sure what a séance was. But if it could call my soul, I had a few questions for it. Namely, what was Valhalla like and more importantly, what exactly might Thor have said when he booted it. Any chance of maybe getting back in?
Hey, a guy can hope, can’t he?
* * *
She read the pages and then reread them. By the time we pulled in to the house, she must have had it memorized. Every now and again she would pull her head up and explain some tiny thing that seemed so important, but I wasn’t really listening. All I heard was she had a way to call my soul home. I didn’t know if there was a special way to shove the damned thing back into my body or not, but I was hoping it would be something as simple, like: my soul appears, recognizes the meat sack it used to live in, and then…I don’t know…climbs back inside on its own. Tucking itself in like a runaway child on a cold winter night.
My luck never ran that way though. There was always a catch; probably some strange and unusual ceremony where we had to sacrifice a live virgin over a wood fire in order to coax the cursed thing back where it belonged, then rope it into place and hope it doesn’t escape. Where am I supposed to find a virgin in this day and age?
She continued to study the pages as we walked into the house and she immediately made for the office without even looking up. She has a small desk area in there where she sometimes goes to pour over financial matters and she quickly assumed the position and began jotting notes.
“I take it you found something good?”
“A few somethings, in fact. Besides the séance, there are a couple of rituals in here that we can use to locate and identify the soul. The way I’m reading this, and trust me, there are a few different ways to interpret what’s here. Doc was nice enough to put some of the possibilities in the borders, but if we’re off on one, we can adapt and retry.”
“Any mention of burning virgins?”
She pulled her head up and gave me that look. I was actually relieved to see that look instead of something that was more along the lines of, “how did you know?” I held my hands up in surrender. “Just checking.”
She went back to work and I fell into the oversized chair behind my own desk. I swayed back and forth and watched her write feverishly. When she finally finished she sat up and stretched her neck. “I think that’s everything.”
I nodded. “So…what do we do now?”
“Well, tonight, nothing. Tomorrow, I go shopping.” She held up a list. “Some of this stuff will be special order. I don’t think I can pick it up at the local grocer.”
“Eye of newt, toe of frog, that sort of thing?”
She shook her head. “Blood of a saint…that sort of thing.”
“Oh for the love of…” I trailed off.
See? I knew it would be something off the wall. If not burning the mythical virgin, it’s the blood of a saint. Like they have that sort of stuff at Home Depot.
“It’s not that bad.” She stood and slipped in behind me. I felt her hands knead at the muscles of my shoulders and she spoke softly, soothing my demeanor. “Believe it or not, I know a couple of places I can get stuff like this.”
“You don’t say?” I moaned. She had me in that place where I didn’t really care what she said as long as her hands kept working.
“I do indeed.” She leaned close and whispered, “I know a coven of witches that can get all kinds of stuff.”
I stiffened, that is, I sat up straight, and spun my head around to face her. “Did you say, ‘witches’?”
“Don’t act so surprised. It’s not like we don’t know any magical beings between us.”
There it was again. That tone. “That doesn’t mean that witches are real.”
“Says the guy who nearly killed a god.”
Okay. She had me there. “Well, technically, he was a lesser god.”
“You’re right. Witches couldn’t possibly be real then.” Her sarcasm wasn’t missed.
I nodded. “I’m glad you’re coming around.” I chose to ignore her sarcasm and raised her with a “ha, told you so.”
“Then I guess you’re screwed. Because the witches are the only people I can think of to maybe get our hands on some of this stuff, unless you’d like to petition the Pope for some of his ‘saint stock?’”
I groaned inwardly. She heard it and I hoped she attributed it to her artful handiwork. She didn’t. “No worries, love. They’ll come through.”
* * *
I spent the night with images of green skinned crones in black dresses and pointy hats cackling at me, trying to strike deals for my first born or a kidney or a magic bean for our shopping list of crap. I could almost see the warts on the end of their noses and one good tooth between them turning a sickening shade of brown as she spoke of them.
I shuddered.
Reminded me too much of the mountain folk we dealt with in the Appalachians. Well, except for the green skin. Most of them were the color of dirt. I think they knew how to make soap, but were allergic to it.
Anyway, the night was uneventful. Laura and I played a little slap and tickle. Mostly I tickled and she slapped at me. She kept saying silly things like, “get some sleep, we have a big day tomorrow” or, “you need your rest,” or some such. It only made me more restless. I wanted to taste her flesh and she wasn’t in the mood, which made for a long and fitful night. I can assure you, I got little rest. If I wasn’t daydreaming of Laura’s lithe and athletic form wrestling me into submission, I was seeing warty noses and yellowed teeth. One actually held an apple out to me. Damn that Disney.
The next morning found me surly. I had to take an extra long shower and she actually cooked with clothes on. I’m telling you, it was like we were married.
Oh, now there’s a frightening thought.
Or is it? I could think of worse people to be married to, I’d just never considered a permanent bond with any mortal creature. She was definitely easy on the eyes and we did seem to fit well together. Usually I thought we were both more or less on the same frequency. Of course there were other times when we seemed polar opposites.
I drank my blood that morning while thinking, “what would she say or do if I did ask her to marry?” Although the idea was intriguing, I was smart enough to realize that we came from completely different worlds.
Okay, well, maybe not different worlds. We both lived in the world of the impossible being possible. I just mean that, she’s warm blooded, alive and…no. That’s not a good analogy. Since just before my last battle with Loki I’ve been warm blooded. I can’t really say for alive. Although I did have a heartbeat. Slower than most, but there was one.
I guess I mean that she’s a Werecat and I eat people. Well, I used to. Now I drink bagged blood, but I mean, I’m not above eating people. And while she doesn’t normally hunt people, she’s damned good at it when the necessity comes around. The way she slashed and mauled those hillbillies was impressive. Like any good cat, the hunt and kill was the main thing; there was always bacon for eating.
Made me wonder if that was why she didn’t care that I tortured Rog?
Here I go again. Fucking Rog jumping in and screwing up my fantasies of marrying this cute little kittycat. Or maybe Rog is my Freudian slip? Maybe I don’t want to be married so ol’ Rog steps in to be the fly in the ointment?
I didn’t know and I didn’t care anymore. I was no psychoanalyst and if I were to try to be one, it damned sure wouldn’t be with somebody as screwed up as I am.
“What are you thinking so hard about?” Laura asked as she made me jealous of a sausage link.
“Same old, same old.” I shoved another piece of bacon into my mouth. She didn’t like me to talk with food in my mouth. Spit one little piece of egg on someone while you’re trying to explain something to them and suddenly, nothing you say matters if there’s food in there. Whatever it is, it has to wait. Maybe if I kept food in my mouth, she wouldn’t dig any deeper.
“Well, eat up. We have a big day.” She scooped up something that looked like snot with lumps. I think she called it “grits.” Stuff just sounds nasty. It has these little black bits in it that makes me think of when the weevils got into the grain and they’d get ground up with it. Little black heads popping up in your bread or…no. Just gross.
�
�We’re going to see your witch friends?” I knew better than to ask but I wanted to deflect from her original line of questioning.
“Sure are. They’re expecting us.” She picked up her plate and took it to the sink.
I did my best to act on board. “How many are they?”
She stared out the kitchen window. “I’m not sure, really. There used to be a couple dozen in their coven, but that was years ago.”
I swallowed hard. “A couple dozen?”
She spun on me and leaned against the counter. “Oh yeah. And you should be happy that there are quite a few. I doubt that any single one of them would have everything we’ll need.”
“Joy.” I shoved the last of the bacon into my mouth and slid my plate across to her. “Do I need to sign over any internal organs or my first born or…what?”
She laughed. “No. Gold will do fine.”
“Thank Odin. That’s something we have plenty of.” I rubbed the small of my back. “I only got two kidneys.”
Chapter 6
We pulled up to a very fancybrick house. I could imagine a doctor or lawyer living here. As we stepped out of the truck, I must have said something along those lines because she gave me that look again. “Where did you expect her to live? A cave?” She laughed at me as she shut the door and stepped up to the sidewalk. “The coven meets here twice a week.”
“Of course they do.” I grumbled, keeping my voice low.
“I heard you.” She spun and tapped the side of her head. “Ears of a cat, ya know.”
Great. Fucking great. I can’t even mumble under my breath and keep stuff to myself. I fell into step behind her and stood outside the entryway cover as she rang the doorbell.
I wasn’t expecting what answered the door. Tall, leggy, blonde, built for fucking and a face that could launch a thousand ships. I prayed that this was the maid and they were about to drain her chi or life force or soul or some such to keep the warts from being noticeable; I could definitely help with that.
Hunter 3 : Lost Souls Page 5