Vampire Soul Box Set (Vampire Romantic Comedy)

by Mac Flynn

  I walked out of the bedroom and glanced at the coffin. Sleeping Beauty wouldn't be waking for half a day, and a promise was a promise. I walked over and opened the lid, careful not to give Roland an overdose of sleeping medicine. His soul box was tucked between his hands.

  "All right, Roland, time for me to take over," I whispered.

  I grabbed the box and pulled. His hands gripped the box tight so that I stretched his arms straight. I let go of the box and his arms snapped back like rubber bands.

  "Roland, if you can hear me, let go of the box," I ordered him. I pulled again, and again I got an elastic hold that snapped the box back onto his chest. "Roland, if you can't hear me let go of the box."

  I grabbed the box and his hands still came with it. This meant war. I stood still holding the box and stretched his arms to their limit. His body came up with me.

  "You're going on a fat-free diet. Only skinny people," I grunted.

  His fingers slowly peeled their rigor mortis selves from the box and Roland fell back into his coffin. I slammed the lid shut and plopped down on it with the box on my lap.

  "The things I do for a vampire," I sighed.

  And for my friends. I didn't like what I'd heard from Ned about Charlie, so with the soul box in tow I got in my car and drove out to Northton. Charlie's house was near the railroad tracks that separated the wrong side from the right side. I parked my car in front of his house. The time was ten in the morning. The mission was to successfully infiltrate Charlie's house and learn his condition. To do that I walked up the weed-choked path and knocked on the door.

  I heard some grunts and groans, and other inhuman noises from behind the entrance. The door swung open and Charlie blinked against the harsh light of day. He looked like a man in the middle of a ten-week binge. His hair needed cut, his face needed shaved, and his breath needed a mint.

  "Hey, Charlie, how ya doing?" I spoke up.

  He blinked against the light and squinted his eyes. "Misty? That you?"

  "Yep. I just thought I'd swing by to see how you were doing after our vampire adventure," I told him.

  He frowned. "But that was a few months ago."

  "Better late than never," I quipped.

  Charlie looked down at my hands. I was holding the soul box. "What's that?"

  "Something I'm babysitting for someone. Mind if I come in?" I slipped past him and looked around.

  The living room and kitchen were the front rooms and stretched all the way to the back door, and they were a dump. There were pizza boxes piled to the ceiling, the floor was covered in crumbs, and I think I spied a couple of mice playing poker in one of the corners with a block of spoiled cheese as the pot. The kitchen had an exotic smell to it that reminded me of the time Ralph once left a waffle too long in the back fridge. I didn't know waffles could turn that shade of purple or have the ability to slide that far across a floor.

  The back door led out to a jungle of urban blight surrounded on all sides by a tall wooden fence that resembled the tower at Pisa. The only way into the backyard was through the side gate or the back door.

  Charlie came up behind me and started to grab some of the sub-sandwich wrappers. "Sorry about the mess. I'm not usually this bad. I've just been-well, you know."

  "Nope, and that's why I came here." I plopped myself on the couch and a cloud of dust blew into my face.

  Charlie took a chair opposite me and ran a hand through his greasy hair. "I've been having trouble since the-well, since we ran into that vampire. I keep thinking he's out the window wanting me to invite him in."

  I snorted. "Believe me, there's no reason you need to worry about him coming to your-" There was a knock on the door. Charlie jumped and the color drained from his face. Not to be a rude guest, I joined him in trying to defy gravity for a split second.

  Charlie crept up to the door and peeked it open a crack. I heard him breathe, and he swung it open and revealed a woman about my age. She was a little plump and had brown hair cut short against her head. Her clothes were plain but clean, and she had her arms crossed over her ample chest.

  "You're doing it again, Dad," she growled at Charlie.

  "Dad?" I repeated.

  Charlie sighed. "I know, Sherry, but I just can't lie when someone asks."

  Sherry looked past him and her eyes fell on me. "Who's she? Another reporter?"

  "No, she's a friend of mine. From Ralph's Diner," Charlie explained. He stepped out of the way and gestured between us. "Misty, this is my daughter, Sherry. She's-"

  "Not happy," Sherry interrupted. "I told you not to tell anyone about that stupid vampire. You're making yourself and the rest of us look like we're insane."

  "I'm not meaning to, sweety," Charlie insisted. "But I just can't-" Sherry held her hand up in his face.

  "I don't want to hear any more excuses, Dad. Stop lying and start pulling yourself together," she ordered him.

  Sherry spun on her heels and marched to the road. She got into an old purple van, backfired a plume of black smoke that would have given an environmentalist a heart attack, and puttered away at a speed that would have made my great-grandmother look fast. And my great-grandmother was dead.

  Charlie hung his head and shut the door. He turned and shuffled back to his chair.

  "Charlie, what's going on?" I asked him.

  Charlie plopped himself onto the cushion and sighed. "Sherry's my daughter. She wants me to lie and tell people I didn't see anything that night," he explained. He leaned forward and cupped his head in his hands. "But I can't, Misty. I can't say that because that isn't what happened," he insisted.

  I stood and walked over to pat him on the shoulder. "You know it's the truth, and I know it's the truth, but I don't think Sherry's going to believe it unless she sees it."

  Charlie shuddered and shook his head. "I don't want her to go through that. It. . .it still gives me nightmares."

  "Believe me, he's not going to come back asking for any more favors," I told him.

  Charlie lifted his head and looked me in the eyes. He was like a big, quivering baby, but without the diapers. And the cute dimples. And everything else except the quivering part. "You think so?"

  "I know so, now get yourself together and get yourself cleaned up. What would the guys at the diner say to this mess?" I scolded him. I paused and remembered the guys from the diner. "On second thought, scratch that. Don't listen to what they'd say, listen to Sherry and me. You're not going to go through any more weirdness."

  "You really think so?" he asked me.

  I patted him on the shoulder. "Trust me. No more weirdness."

  Charlie sat up and smiled. "Then you're right. I need to get over that night. I mean, it's been a few months since I saw him. He's not coming back."

  "That's the way!" I encouraged him.

  Charlie jumped to his feet and looked around us at the unregulated trash dump. "Let's get this place cleaned up!"

  The minute he turned his back my face fell. There went my chance at telling him the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help me God. I really could have used His help, too.

  Then my face did some acrobatics and twisted into horror as Charlie grabbed the soul box. He tilted and turned it over in his hands.

  "So what is this-" I lunged forward and snatched it from his hands.

  "Don't touch it!" I warned him.

  He blinked at me with his mouth slightly open. "Why not?" he asked me.

  "I'm holding it for a friend and that thing's a little touchy about how it's held," I told him. I neglected to mention I didn't want Charlie to develop ventilation from the box's acidic effects.

  "Oh, well, put it on the couch and let's get to work!" he insisted.

  I spent a few hours lugging and dragging piles of primitive culture from the fridge, and cardboard furniture from the corners of the rooms. The poker-playing rats were evicted along with an assortment of other multi-legged creatures who didn't pay rent. When we were finished the place still looked like it'd been through a d
iner scuffle, complete with a food fight, but that was an improvement over its former waste site designation.

  Charlie fell into his chair and I plopped onto the couch beside the box. I glared at the unhelpful paperweight. If all vampire souls were as worthless as Roland's then I wondered how they missed them. Charlie winced and pull a tire iron from the cushion of his chair. He tossed it towards the kitchen and it clattered to the floor.

  "That was quite a chore, wasn't it?" he commented.

  "Yeah," I wheezed. I grabbed the box and cracked a few back bones standing up. "But I'd better go."

  "Even before I feed you lunch?" he offered.

  "I've got some food at home, and I could use some more sleep," I told him.

  "You work tonight?" he guessed.

  I shook my head. "Nope. I've got vacation the next few days."

  Charlie frowned and stood. "Misty, I'm sorry. I didn't-" I held up my hand.

  "You didn't know and I didn't tell you. That's fair. I guess I needed a little work to keep me in practice for cleaning up the diner," I pointed out.

  Charlie grasped my hand and nearly shook my whole arm off. I felt my toes vibrate. "Thank you so much! You're a true friend, Misty."

  I pulled myself from his grip before it got so crooked I could pat myself on the back. "It's no problem. Just call me whenever you need help."

  He nodded his head. "Sure thing, Misty. Sure thing."

  I went back to my apartment and plopped down on my own couch. The box sat safely by my side. I glanced around at the clean apartment that Roland tidied up during the boring hours while I was at work. The long intervals between us not trying to get killed by another supernatural creature were long enough that Roland had taken to scrubbing the corners of the ceiling until he could see his lack of reflection.

  "How do you do it?" I asked the coffin at my feet. "Seriously, I'd be bored to a permanent death just cleaning this place and waiting for something to come and kill me."

  There wasn't any response, and wouldn't be for another five hours. I leaned back my head and closed my eyes. A nap sounded like a good idea.

  CHAPTER 3

  A loud noise woke me up and I grabbed at the first weapon within reach. I jumped to my feet and swung the pillow in front of me.

  "What's going on? Fire? Vampires? Fluffy kittens?" I yelled.

  The only reply to my line of questioning was another ring on my cellphone. I dropped my shoulders and the pillow, and picked up the phone.

  "Hello?"

  "Misty, it's Charlie," came a high-pitched voice from the other end of the line. He sounded like someone had kicked him in the family jewels with steel-tipped boots.

  "Charlie? What's wrong?" I asked him.

  "Sherry's mad at me," he replied.

  "Mad at you again or still?" I returned.

  "Again. She just called me up and said something came in through the Depot for me. A box that's shaped like a coffin," he explained.

  I blinked and glanced at the coffee table. Roland still napped beneath my mug coasters. "Is she sure?"

  "Sure enough to be mad at me. She says I bought it to make our family look like bigger fools," he told me. "Misty, I was wondering, since you're not working, if you'd come down and help me get it."

  I checked the time. It was an hour before wakeup call for my roommate. I sighed. "Sure. You want to wait or-"

  "Now," he pleaded. I couldn't blame him. Picking up a coffin-shaped box near dark was about as smart as eating Ralph's homemade clam chowder. Just a word of warning, that isn't clam in there.

  "All right. I'll be right over," I promised.

  "Meet me at my house. Sherry said the box is big enough I need to take my flat bed," he told me.

  I hung up and glanced at the coffin and the soul box. "Looks like me and baby are going out again. "Don't go anywhere. Hopefully this won't take too long," I told the box.

  I drove back to Charlie's house and found him hitching up his flatbed to his semi. He turned to me and smiled.

  "I can't tell you how glad I am for you doing this," Charlie told me.

  I shrugged. "I didn't have anything better to do."

  He glanced down at the box in my hands. "You're friend didn't take that yet?"

  "He's a little boxed in at the moment, but it's fine," I told him.

  We got into his truck and bumped along the road to the railroad tracks. Charlie turned left and followed a road along the tracks for a few miles to the older commercial part of town.

  We arrived at the Depot an hour before sunset. The Depot was a collection of steel warehouses lined up in long rows beside the railroad tracks. A small office building sat apart from the warehouses, and behind that to our left was a fleet of semi trucks. The whole place was surrounded by a chain-link fence topped with enough razor wire to put a maximum-security prison to shame. Forklifts flew across the pavement with their forks filled with pallets and crates.

  The only way to get through without coming out looking like tenderized meat was through a pair of wide chain-link fence gates that sat on wheels. Beside the gate inside the compound was a guardhouse. Sherry stood just inside the gates with her arms crossed over her chest. She signaled to the person in the guardhouse and the gates pulled apart. Charlie pulled his truck inside and stopped beside her. He leaned out the window and smiled at her.

  "Funny seeing you here," he teased.

  Sherry jumped onto the running board of his truck and and jerked her head towards one of the warehouses.

  "It's over there," she snapped.

  She guided us through the steel jungle of warehouses to one of the open warehouses. The garage door-like entrance was open, so I got a front-row view of the inside. That particular warehouse had shelves along the sides and an open floor in the middle. On the shelves were large crates and boxes full of delivered supplies for local contractors, farmers. You name it, they delivered and shipped it.

  In the doorway on the concrete sat a metal box. A coffin-shaped metal box. Charlie parked the truck near the door and we hopped out. Sherry walked around to the other side of the box while we stopped at the closer side.

  I knelt down and looked over the shipping label on the lid. There was no return address and that was definitely Charlie's name, printed in red ink, on the stamp.

  "It came on one of the trucks from Colmouth," Sherry told us.

  "So has anyone tried to open it?" I asked her.

  Sherry glared at me. "If it's not ours, we don't open it."

  I stood and held up my hands. "Point taken." I looked to Charlie and gestured to the box. "Care to do the honors?"

  Charlie's face was as white as a bleached whale. He knelt down and grabbed the slim edges with his thick hands. Charlie gave a tug and grunted. He tried again, but the lid didn't move. "It won't budge," he told us.

  Sherry glanced inside the warehouse at a couple of guys who stood beside a forklift. There was a small, broken create beside them with a large hole in the side and I could see a bunch of small, round door handles inside the crate.

  "Jimmy! Henry! Stop playing with that contractor mess and get over here with a crowbar!" The men each grabbed a crowbar and walked over. She pointed at the box. "Get it open."

  The men knelt and tried to fit their crowbars into the space between the lid and body of the box. It didn't want to wedge, so Henry went back and grabbed a hammer. Jimmy jimmied the crowbar a half inch into the space while Henry held the hammer. Henry slammed the hammer into the back of the crowbar, but the head didn't drive any deeper into the box.

  "No doing, Sherry. This stuff's tough," Henry told her.

  "What's in this thing, anyway?" Jimmy spoke up. He rapped on the lid and grinned. "Dracula?"

  The men burst out laughing until Sherry's death-glare killed their humor. She whipped her head to Charlie and pointed at the coffin.

  "Get. It. Out," she growled.

  "But I don't know-"

  "Get it out now," she ordered him.

  Charlie sighed. "All right. Pack it
up."

  Jimmy grabbed his forklift and put the box onto the flatbed. They strapped it down and Charlie and I climbed into his truck. He leaned out the window and looked at Sherry.

  "You have to believe me. I didn't order this thing," he insisted.

  Sherry crossed her arms and turned her back on him. "Just go."

  Charlie sighed and started his truck. We drove out and back onto the road. I glanced over my shoulder through the window at the coffin-box.

  "So any idea what might be in it?" I asked him.

  Charlie's shoulders slumped. "You think I ordered that thing, too?"

  "No, but boxes haven't got sentient enough to send themselves," I pointed out.

  He shook his head. "I can't think of anyone who'd send me-" His eyes widened and his grip on the wheel tightened. He whipped his head to me and I noticed his face completely lacked color except for chalk white. "What if it's that vampire?"

  "It's not that vampire," I argued.

  "But how could you know?" he persisted.

  "Why would he ship himself to you?" I asked him.

  "Maybe he wants to do that Trojan thing to me to get inside my house," Charlie suggested.

  "It's not a Trojan horse, or even a Trojan condom. It's just a box, and we're not going to take it inside. I don't think it would even fit inside," I pointed out.

  "Then what is it, Misty?" he wondered.

  I leaned against the seat and pursed my lips. "I don't know, Charlie." But I had a feeling we'd find out, and I wouldn't like this surprise.

  CHAPTER 4

  We got back to Charlie's house and he unloaded the box from the flatbed with some assistance from Charlie's personal forklift. I held the wide gate open, and he drove the box into his backyard and dropped it in the middle of the weed patch. The sun had a few rays above the horizon, and in fifteen minutes it'd be night.

  Charlie pulled back the machine, shut it off and hopped off. I came up and stood beside him. We both stared at the metal coffin box. With how weird my life had become I half-expected two dozen zombie clowns to pop out and mumble something about balloons.

  "Misty?" Charlie spoke up.