by steve higgs
‘Stay there. I will be home in a few minutes. Just keep the doors and windows shut and stay inside. Promise?’
‘Yes, dear. Stay inside, we can do that. Midsomer Murders is about to finish anyway so I am not going anywhere.'
‘Okay. A few minutes. I’ll be there as soon as I can.’ I ended the call.
‘You need to go, Tempest, don't hang around. I'll text you later.' Poison had clearly heard enough of the conversation to piece together the rest of it.
Unsure whether I should kiss her again quickly or what the right protocol was I instead said, ‘Sorry.' Then turned to run off to the nearby train station where I felt sure I would find a taxi. I paused and looked back at her again.
‘Go,’ she instructed, so I went.
My House. Monday, September 27th 2151hrs
Sat in the taxi fidgeting with my phone, I saw that I had also missed several text messages. I opened the text icon expecting to see that they were all missed voice mail message notifications from my mother. I was right in that all but one of them were. The one that was not was from Hayley, who I had not got around to messaging yet with all that was happening around me.
She probably thought I was playing it super cool like a complete idiot.
“Hi, Tempest. I can’t decide if you are just playing it cool or being a jerk. After months of flirting I kind of expected a message this evening. (smiling face). I choose to assume that you have just got tied up with other things and I shall hear from you soon (smiley face with a wink and kiss lips).”
We were still a few minutes from my house, so I composed a reply quickly wondering if my arrest would excite her because I was such a bad boy or scare her off because I must be a complete jerk.
In the end, I settled for, “Not cool enough to play it cool, dear lady. I’m afraid I had a busy evening interacting with the police on a case. Perhaps we can get together this coming weekend.” Satisfied that I had not lied and that ‘get together' could mean anything, I pressed send and put the phone away.
As the taxi driver pulled onto my road, I had him drive past my house pretending I lived further on. I wanted to check out the parked cars. Seeing no cars that looked unfamiliar and no one sat obviously in their car, I got him to stop, slipped him a twenty to cover fare and tip and stepped out cautiously into the road.
I stayed where I was in the road as he pulled away again, scanning the area for any sign of movement. I wanted to get to the house, but I was wary that an ambush might be waiting for me. It was what I would have done.
There was plenty of illumination from the streetlights but therefore also lots of shadows. The street was very still though, no movement anywhere, not even light spilling through curtains from the televisions inside to give the illusion of movement. I could hear the hum of the motorway some two miles away, so there were no local sounds to hear.
Satisfied that there was no one lying in wait for me, I covered the distance to my house and called out to my parents as I let myself in.
‘In the lounge,’ my dad called out
The dogs appeared at my feet in greeting but having sniffed me decided that the sofa and sleep sounded superior and trotted back to where they had come from with me following them.
My parents were clearly not traumatised by the events of this evening, as I was waved into silence by mum's arm, lest I speak over the big whodunit reveal on Midsomer Murders. Dad turned and winked from an armchair across the room, but they were both clearly glued to the show after investing nearly two hours on grisly death. Realising they were fine, I observed the nearly drained glasses on the coffee table and went to fix myself a drink. An industrial strength rum and coke would fix a few problems and probably help me sleep.
With my drink made, I opened the cupboard in which I kept the dog treats and two small dogs skidded to a halt by my feet. The cupboard door never made a sound, so far as my ears could determine, but they could hear it over the sound of the television or even from out in the garden. I fed them each a gravy bone and took my drink to sit with my parents in the living room.
The title music kicked in a few seconds later to indicate the show had ended and finally my mother felt she could give me her attention.
‘Is it alright if we stay here tonight?’ she asked.
‘Of course,' I replied, thinking that perhaps she was shaken by the evening's fun and games and wanted to stay inside until it was light outside again.
‘Good. I have had three large brandies and really shouldn’t drive, and your dad has had just as much rum.’
Right. So not staying for fear of death then, merely from inebriation.
‘Would you like to fill me in on tonight events?’ I asked
‘I could ask the same of you.’
‘You first, mum.’
I took a long slurp of my drink. Mmmm, just the right amount of rum.
Mum regaled me with the story about the man on the doorstep. I grabbed my notepad and wrote down what he had said as she recanted the exchange. Writing, circling and underlining that he would not come in the house and kept trying to get them to come out.
I hopped up then and went through to the kitchen where the books Frank had brought over were stacked neatly to one side. I grabbed the one I wanted and took it back into the lounge. On the sofa, I leafed through trying to find the bit I wanted.
‘What are you looking for, boy?' asked my dad. My phone pinged in my pocket sending a jolt of interest as it could be Poison or Hayley or Amanda and each of those options was enticing. I left it in my pocket though rather than cut my dad off.
‘One moment. Here it is. By any chance does this fellow look familiar?' I asked, showing mum a page in the book.
‘Oh, that’s him. Isn’t it, Michael?’
‘Let me have a better look, please.' I passed my dad the book rather than make him crane his neck.
‘Ambrogio Silvano,' he read, peering through the bottom of his bifocal glasses. ‘Yes, I would say that was probably the chap we met this evening. Good likeness anyway.'
He scanned the page for a little while longer. Mother and I were silent. ‘Says here he was running around in the 12th Century. He certainly looks good if he is that old. Italian. Well, that explains the accent.
What do you think, son?
‘I think the man you met tonight is someone that looks like this Ambrogio chap and has turned the resemblance to his advantage. I enlisted some expert help on this case,' meaning Frank, ‘and he believes that there are vampire clubs around the world that pay fees to people they believe to be vampires in the hope that they will be turned into vampires by their Master. Something like that. Potentially, the man you met tonight is acting out the role of master vampire to drain money out of gullible fools.'
‘Well, he was very big and very strong and pretty damned scary,’ said my mother.
I considered this for a moment, read my notes again and came to a decision. ‘I need to call someone, but then I am going to take the boys in the garden and lock up. I am tired, so will be off to bed shortly. If you want to stay up, you are more than welcome to. I need a shower, so I'll be in the bathroom for a few minutes if you want to get in there first.'
‘You haven’t told us why you were arrested yet?’ complained mum.
‘All connected to the same vampire case, mum. I will tell you about it over breakfast. It is really not that exciting though.'
I stood up and stretched. I had several bits of me that were getting sore from being slammed into the ground, punched, kicked, and hit with things over the last few days. The bruises were beginning to join to form one whole-body uncomfortable mass. I had a lot of pieces of this case, but nothing that was going to help me solve it. Maybe tomorrow I could talk to some of the vampire-wannabes and get some information from them on Ambrogio.
As far as I was concerned, he had crossed a line now. The case was personal. Threatening me was one thing but turning up at my house and grabbing my mother was not something I could ignore. Whether he was in anyway linked t
o the murders or not, I was going to find him and expose him and very possibly get into a fight with him at the same time.
I wanted to ask Frank a few questions but checked my watch and hesitated. It was late already, but would Ambrogio be back tonight? Had he left, or had he gone off to get friends? I decided, given the circumstances, that it was best to see what Frank thought.
As I left the room to begin the bedtime routine with the dogs, I fished out my phone again. The message that landed a couple of minutes ago was from Hayley.
"Your life sounds so exciting compared with mine working in a coffee shop. I would like to hear all about it sometime, but it is not what I am really after you for. xx"
The dogs were in the garden doing their usual routine, so I sent an immediate reply while I waited for them. “You seem to know what you want, so please tell me what it is. x.”
Bull was trotting back towards me when the reply came just a few seconds later. “Being honest here, I don’t really need a boyfriend, I don’t have time for one and have always found men to be a bit needy once they are in a relationship. I do miss sex though, so I suppose what I do want is some cock xx"
I picked my phone up from the carpet where I had dropped it in my surprise, then tried to find a suitable response.
"How refreshing to meet a lady that knows what she wants and can ask for it directly. I shall see what I can do." I left it at that and got a single, “X” back as a final response. The ball was now in my court. I had never really worked out if I was looking for Miss Right or not. Was I bothered if I met a few Miss Right-Nows along the way? No, not really, was the simple, immediate and honest answer. If attractive women wanted to use me for sex, I was not inclined to argue or resist.
I flipped to Frank and pressed call. He answered almost immediately.
‘Tempest?’
‘Hi, Frank. Frank, while we were having fun tonight Ambrogio came to my house and tried to hurt my parents. They stayed inside, and he pretended like he couldn't get in. Do you think my family is actually in danger?'
‘Oh, my lord. Yes, Tempest. A danger of the gravest kind. Ambrogio will be more or less unstoppable.'
‘Why do you think that? No, silly question. Forget I asked.’ Frank would just explain how vampires were so much stronger and faster than humans and that they lived for centuries because they were so hard to kill. I changed tack instead. ‘Frank if my parents stay inside their house when it is dark will they be safe?’ This idiot Ambrogio clearly would not enter the house because a vampire can’t cross a threshold they have not been invited across. If I played by his rules, then I should be able to keep my family and friends safe.
Frank agreed that they could probably avoid harm if they stayed inside but that did not allow for Thralls which the vampire might employ. I wrote Thrall on the back of my left hand with a sharpie so I could look it up later. Frank explained anyway that a Thrall was a human servant that would do a vampire's bidding and could move freely in daylight and across thresholds thus defeating many of the protective precautions one might employ.
I thanked Frank for his time and disconnected. I was not sure whether I needed to be worried or not, but I was certainly not relaxed.
My House. Tuesday, September 28th 0530hrs
I awoke at a fairly normal 0530hrs, scratched myself sleepily, yawned and briefly considered getting back under the welcoming covers. I had long ago learned though that an early morning workout came with a number of benefits. Not only did I find that no matter what the day held I would already have ticked "go to the gym" off the list and thus not be able to miss it, I also felt better physically and found myself more mentally aware. Furthermore, I could eat a hearty breakfast without too much concern because I had already achieved a calorie deficit. I left the dogs asleep in my bedroom as it was far too early for them to consider getting up.
I made as little noise as possible getting out of the house so that my parents would not be disturbed, although as I had crept passed the guest bedroom door, I observed that either someone was using a chainsaw to cut through oak or my mother was sleeping on her back again. Creeping was probably redundant.
With so many gyms to choose from I had moved around a few of them until I had settled on one that offered very few frills but had a cheap monthly rate and all the equipment worked. It also opened at 0500hrs which no others did. It was a time that worked well for me. I did not need much equipment. An old army physical training instructor had once shown me he could train a person hard enough to make their eyes bleed with no equipment at all.
I got my cardio by running or cycling so the gym was just for picking up big weights repeatedly until the muscles being engaged refused to pick them up any more. Doing this routinely meant that I was stronger than I would otherwise be and kept the fat at bay as each session blasted about half of what they say a man's daily calorie intake should be.
At just after 0715hrs I was walking back through my front door to the pleasant smell of bread baking.
‘Wotcha, kid!' called my Father from the kitchen where he was peering through the oven door. ‘Should be out in a minute.' he said, referring clearly to whatever goodies he had inside it.
My dad was a dab hand at anything he decided he wanted to be a dab hand at. I had inherited this ability but with less skill. Or perhaps a little less determination, but he elected to start baking bread one day and then went on to master it. Within a few months of starting, he was turning out baps, bloomers, bagels, and brioche without needing to open a book.
‘I need a shower,’ I announced as I dropped my car keys back onto their hook.
Mother was most likely enjoying a cup of tea and watching the breakfast news in the living room, so I stripped off on my way up the stairs, threw my thoroughly damp clothes into the hamper in the bathroom then leaned into the shower to set it running.
I posed vainly a few times in front of the big mirror I had on one wall. It was ok for my age I felt. I was never going to win a contest or get a modelling career, but I was in acceptable shape and could see a clear definition between the muscle groups. Too much fat on my abs still but the only way I would shift that would be to stop drinking alcohol forever and life was just too short to never have a pub lunch or night out.
Dressed and back downstairs, the dogs came to find me with their little tails wagging behind them. They had been in the garden when I got home making sure the neighbour's cat was evicted from its favoured spot under the plum tree. Greeting complete, they trotted back to the lounge to take up their standard daytime position on the sofa. There they would sleep until the chance of food or a more interesting activity came along. Interesting activities included things like bark at the postman, bark at birds in the tree outside of the window in the living room, bark at the neighbour's cat visibly taunting them from the fence outside, that sort of thing.
On the side in the kitchen sat a beautiful and fresh white sandwich loaf on a cooling rack. The smell was divine and conjured up images of melting butter sliding off a warm slice and onto my wrist as I ate it.
‘It’s ready to eat, son,’ offered my dad, opening a draw to select a bread knife.
‘You first,’ I countered and watched as he helped himself to two generous slices including the crust.
‘Mary, would you like some toast, dear?’ he called through the living room where we could hear her tutting at the news headlines.
‘Coming,’ she replied, her voice preceded her appearing through the door a few seconds later holding a now empty mug. ‘I need a refill and a fresh mug. Bull licked this one clean.’
It had probably been left unattended I thought to myself as I selected a fresh mug for her and one for myself.
Breakfast was a very pleasant affair with my parents talking animatedly about their forthcoming cruise holiday which they had been planning for months and was almost upon them. We chatted back and forth about my garden and what I had planned for it, about the weather, as one always does and generally avoided any talk of the events of the
previous night. We are great at avoiding issues by pretending they don’t exist.
I’m not sure that it is healthy, but it is what we do. By 0900hrs, mum and dad had gone home, and the house was quiet again. After my shower, I had selected tan cargo pants and Caterpillar boots with a t-shirt and hoody. It was my plan to give the dogs a good walk as I might be out quite a bit during the day.
‘Boys,’ I called through to the living room. No reaction.
‘Time for a walk,’ I called again as I grabbed their leads off the peg in my utility cupboard. Still no reaction.
Sighing in defeat, I went back through the lounge where two disinterested Dachshund faces were peering at me, side by side on the sofa. I had to walk up to them and place their collars on their necks and gently tug at them while also instructing them to move their fat arses. Accepting defeat with very little grace they lazily got off their cushions.
They stretched and finally began trotting resignedly to the door. A few minutes later I was letting them off the lead to run free in the vineyards and they finally seemed to be excited about being outside. Now, with both hands free, I pulled my phone out to check emails and other messages. I scanned my emails, of which there were a few, but noticed immediately a new email from Ambrogio.
Mortal,
How dare you attack my servants! I grow impatient with your continued existence. Your kin barely escaped last night but have merely prolonged their pointless lives. Soon you will understand the futility of your resistance. Until then, since you have taken followers from me, I will take one from you.