H.T. Night's 8-Book Vampire Box Set

by Night, H. T.

  “I like to tell a joke now and then,” I said.

  “You know what I mean. A guy named ‘Summer,’ that sounds sissy to me. Are you a sissy boy? There ain’t a whole lot of sissy boys here for you to play dolls with.”

  Jesus. And I thought the jackasses in night school were bad enough. Engaging in a morality battle with a guy whose IQ was the same as his waist measurement wasn’t how I wanted to spend my time.

  I tried to let my face go a little vacant and spacey-eyed as I slipped into a monotone. “I’m here to devote my full attention to the teachings of Erasmus Cole. I’m just another lost soul seeking The Answer.”

  He looked like he wanted to torment me a little more but some headlights were approaching from behind. He waved me through. “Park down by the main building and turn in your clothes and keys. They’ll assign you to a bungalow.”

  The parking lot didn’t have any security lights, and the entire place seemed to be dark. I knew the Cloudland sales pitch was based on removing all the distracting luxuries of modern life, but I didn’t think they’d send us back to the Stone Age.

  Not that I was complaining, because the concealment allowed me to open the trunk and remove the false panel along the back. Parker rolled out from a fetal position, shaking her hands as if they’d fallen asleep.

  “Took you long enough,” she said.

  “Just making conversation,” I said. “It’s important not to draw undue attention.”

  “One thing for sure about you, Spider, people can’t ignore you.”

  If I’d been a little closer to my old human self, I might have taken that as a compliment. But now I was just a guy with a job to do. I could feel good about myself later, when the bodies stopped piling up.

  “I’m going to check in. You wait over there in the trees until I give you the all-clear.”

  “By the way, why do you have a false panel?”

  I couldn’t tell her that I stored my blood supply there when I picked up a shipment, so I told her the only other story that would make sense. “I’m a drug smuggler when I’m not in night school.”

  “You’re funny, Spider.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I guess once they let you drive through, their security gets less and less invasive. After checking in, with all the impersonally efficient process of a hotel or hospital or funeral parlor, I made my way to the assigned bungalow and decided to have Parker wait again in the car. I scanned the hallways and building and saw no trace of a security camera system. I guess they didn’t have security cameras on the inside because they didn’t want possible witnesses to Erasmus Cole’s games.

  When the coast was clear, I led her up to our room. It was nice and clean, but relatively unadorned, with a potted plant and a desk but no television or radio. A couple of robes and towels were folded up on the bed.

  “One bed?” Parker asked.

  “What did you expect? I enrolled by myself. It might have thrown up a red flag if I asked for a second bed, and I hadn’t planned on company, anyway. I told you, I like to work alone.”

  “Well, I’m not sleeping next to you for an entire week,” she protested.

  “Then you better like hard carpet floors because there’s no way I’m giving up this bed.” I was actually careful about saying the word “sleeping.”

  “You just better not turn out to be a little pervert.”

  I looked at Parker and nearly threw a fit. “Are you kidding me?”

  “Look, I think I can trust you, but...”

  Then it dawned on me what was happening. She had alternative reasons for not sharing a bed with me. For some reason, she didn’t want us to be alone together at night. “Where do you propose I sleep?”

  “I can make the floor in the bathroom comfortable.”

  I looked at Parker and nearly laughed out loud. “If you want to make the bathroom floor comfortable enough for someone to sleep on, go right ahead. Knock yourself out. There’s no way on God’s green earth that I’m going to drop the kind of money I did to get into this place and not have a comfortable bed.”

  “Fine, I’ll sleep in the tub.”

  “What happens when I have to pee?”

  “Don’t drink liquids after six p.m. and go to the bathroom before you go to bed.”

  Wow, she really was up to something. I looked inside the bathroom, and sure enough, it had a large window. Parker had clearly noticed at some point in the conversation and she took the only choice available once she realized I wasn’t budging. Or maybe that had been her choice from the start.

  “Shh,” I said to Parker.

  She raised her eyebrows, but obeyed me for a change. Of course, my hearing was much more acute than hers. She wouldn’t have heard the footsteps.

  I looked over at the door and a paper slid under it. I walked over and looked at the piece of paper. It was the official itinerary, complete with a groovy Mount Shasta-at-sunrise logo.

  At the top, it read: Opening Sanctification- Mellow Meadows, 8:00 p.m.

  Shit, that’s in 15 minutes!

  “Looks like I won’t be able to sit around and chat, Parker. I have a cult meeting to get to.”

  Parker nodded at me. “I’m sure those are words you never thought you’d say.”

  “Never say never. Well, maybe sometimes. So, what are you going to be doing while I’m in session?” I asked.

  She held up some of the pamphlets lying on the desk. “I’ll read up on The Answer to all of life’s little problems. Maybe I’ll learn a little more.”

  “Absolutely, under no circumstances, leave the room!” I ordered as sternly as I could.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And don’t answer the door for anyone,” I pressed.

  “This ain’t my first rodeo.”

  She’d said she’d been to Cloudland a couple of times, and maybe she knew her way around. Especially if this was her dad’s place. I wouldn’t be surprised if she had gotten full access and a behind-the-scenes glimpse at the family empire. After all, most dads are pretty proud of both their achievements and their daughters. Of course, her dad might also have sacrificial intentions on Parker as well.

  I quickly changed into my robe in the bathroom, and it had a little hood so I flipped it up and pulled it low over my eyes. When I stepped out into the main room, I was relieved to find Parker had stayed put.

  “Nice look,” she said.

  “No time to shave my legs,” I said. “Where’s Mellow Meadows?”

  “Down the sidewalk and between the three big buildings. You can’t miss it. It’s the big grassy area with all the people in robes.”

  “Simple enough.”

  Parker was right. Once I made it out the rear entrance, the surrounding buildings all opened onto the grassy commons. A crowd milled about in twos and threes, all wearing the same hooded robes. Judging by the lithe and shapely legs, most of them seemed to be young women. Some weird New Age music was playing, flutes and triangles and the occasional random harp. I looked around the compound and saw probably sixty people.

  At the upper end of the commons was a slight rise of stacked stone, like an outdoor stage. A few tall trees hovered over, but the dominant feature was a hulking stone statue that was chiseled from volcanic stone. It looked simultaneously primitive and hideous, with a blunt and vaguely feminine face, rounded stone boobs, and a grass skirt.

  If that’s the “feminine divine” old Erasmus keeps raving about, give me an eighteen-year-old any day.

  But the statue appeared to be pretty important, because laid out before it was a huge slab of stone that looked like a table...or altar. A rock wall marked the back of the stage, with a couple of openings made with stacked pillars that had a Stonehenge vibe.

  Mount Shasta was prominent in the background, catching the thick slice of moon and sparkling with a soft glow. I had to hand it to Erasmus, if he was trying to wow some kids into drinking his special brand of Kool-Aid, he couldn’t have picked better s
cenery. The night was clear and cool, and the backdrop was mystical.

  The crowd was sedate, whether from special substances or just mellowing out because of the meadow, but there was a faint buzz of expectation. I walked around with my hood pulled low, eavesdropping for clues, but most of the conversation was of bands, movies, boyfriends, and the same kind of stuff you’d overhear at a university student union.

  After about ten minutes, Erasmus emerged from somewhere off to the left, probably from a luxury bungalow. He wore the same robe we did, except his was long and flowing, sweeping the ground behind him. He looked a little different than when I’d encountered him in his Volvo a week before. He looked calm and paternal, as if he’d been rehearsing.

  Or maybe he really believed in his own brand of Nirvana.

  I clung to the back edge of the crowd, keeping a broad view of the events. Everyone fell silent as Erasmus sat cross-legged on a boulder. He spread his arms, palms open. “Hello, my children,” he said, his voice carrying all across the commons.

  What kind of guru-godly-goop was this? Was he being serious? I swear this was like a bad episode of Punk’d.

  “During this week you will constantly be facing your demons. Through a series of exercises we are going to peel back your inner core and find out why you all have chosen the paths you follow. I know some of you are runaways. I know some of you are prostitutes. I know some of you are recovering drug addicts. I know some of you have done heinous things that you can’t even bear the thought of re-remembering. This week is about forgiveness. This week is about finding yourself and making sure you’re whole.”

  Wait a second! Who does he market this to? Runaways? Prostitutes? The worst of the worst, as long as they had barrels of cash to offer?

  The security guy out front had really thought I was gay, perhaps even a gay prostitute. This place was delving in the bottom of our society. But not the very, very bottom. The Answer made sure that only the attractive could be salvaged and redeemed.

  I looked around the crowd, and many had their hoods down, revealing comely, rapt faces and shining eyes. Everyone was gorgeous. Why had they let me in, aside from the fact that I’d laid out a stack of money? There would be only one reason to let me in. They’d assumed I was a minor and there was a huge perv here who liked teenage boys.

  Maybe even Erasmus Cole himself.

  Well, if he wanted a kiss, he might get a little more than he bargained for.

  Chapter Fourteen

  I had a bad feeling, and when I have a bad feeling, that’s saying something.

  No surprise there. It didn’t take a psychic to get a bad feeling about this place. Sure, it was cheery enough. The commons were brightly lit, with old-fashioned carriage lamps set on posts to augment the moonlight. There was a snack table off to the side, which hadn’t appealed to me because my hunger was of a different kind. There was even a big crystal bowl of punch. Blood red.

  Focus, Spider.

  Everyone seemed in a state of bliss as Erasmus droned on about how together they were all brothers and sisters, all part of the same world, all children of the clouds. But something was clearly off. I glanced around the perimeter, and now there were big, stocky guys in uniforms circling around like wolves herding sheep. While I didn’t see any of the young disciples making a break for it, or even appearing uneasy, the atmosphere changed slightly, as if Erasmus was about to deliver the real sales pitch.

  I realized how vulnerable the group was, softened with promises, removed from their loved ones, isolated from the past they had known. How he had lured these folks up here, I haven’t a clue. Maybe this was a legitimate retreat...for some. Maybe a handful of folks really did leave this place feeling enlightened and alive.

  Maybe.

  Others, I suspected, were not so lucky. Others, like Parker’s friend, Cindy, in his trunk drained of all blood, never left here again. Alive, that is.

  And then I saw something that would have caused my breath to catch in my throat, if I had breath. A prominent politician, a Democratic senator, in fact, had just entered the stage from behind the stone statue. He nodded to a burly security guard, who nodded back. The senator was followed by a celebrity. A very wealthy celebrity famous for his action movies. He, too, stepped in, nodding to the security guard. And it continued like this for the next few minutes. Politicians, prominent business leaders, heads of state, more celebrities, all issuing from behind the little stone wall.

  And all of them were looking upon the participants, me included, with only one thing:

  Hunger in their eyes.

  Yeah, I had a very bad feeling about this place, indeed.

  * * *

  Erasmus droned on with his message of hope and deliverance, expounding on “The Answer,” which involved surrendering to the larger mysteries of life while following a path of simplicity. It sounded a little contradictory to me, but in a way, it was sort of like what I’d done when I finally accepted I was a vampire. After all, I didn’t ask to be the way I was, but didn’t I have a right to survive just like everything else on the planet?

  The big wigs gathered around Erasmus, but they didn’t kneel or anything. I suspected they were the kind of folks who didn’t kowtow to anyone, and probably saw Erasmus as just another service worker or deliveryman—he set up the butcher shop and the wolves swooped in for pork chops.

  Erasmus raised his arms, and the wide sleeves of his robe slid down to his elbows. Stage lights, probably strung along the back of the stage, lit up brilliantly behind him, revealing the giant statue in better detail. It was twenty-five feet in height, grainy, and grotesque-looking. Her crude nose and lips were broad, and deep crevices of eyes were set in a face that was like a hammer. Her limbs were thick and sinewy, and I had the distinct feeling that I had just entered the first circle of hell.

  Now that she was illuminated, there was no denying that the statue represented a demon of some sort.

  Those in the crowd oohed and aahed, but they should have gasped. Something freaky was going on, and I had a feeling things were only going to get worse.

  I was right.

  After more introductions and more proclamations of purifying, a drink was passed around. The same red punch I had seen earlier—and it most certainly wasn’t Kool-Aid; at least, not the kind sold at Wal-Mart. Others in attendance downed it willingly. I don’t down anything other than blood and so I pretended to take a drink but let a little dribble down my chin so it looked like I’d had some.

  A few minutes later, while those in attendance around me seemed to be feeling the effects of a drug...and by my estimate, ecstasy— the inner circle made their moves.

  They gathered closer to Erasmus, who was loving the attention and the power, and he proceeded to lead the assembly in a strange chant.

  I thought I made out the words “oysters in your laundry hamper,” but I believe the chants were Latin, a subject I’d studied a few times in school but rarely had the chance to speak. If you don’t practice a new language—even very old languages—you tend to lose it.

  And old Erasmus started to lose it, ranting and gibbering, waving toward the giant stone figure. I looked around at the crowd of mostly young and nubile women, who were swaying and joining in like it was Beatlemania on heavy sedatives.

  It didn’t look any more harmful than your average Catholic mass or high-school dance, so I figured maybe tonight was nothing special after all. I relaxed a little, feeling I wouldn’t have to blow my cover yet and swing into action.

  I had a little more time to get the lay of the land and learn about the place.

  But first I had to find Parker’s sister.

  Chapter Fifteen

  From the photograph Parker had shown me, her sister Lilith was sort of like a miniature Parker, fresh-faced, girlish figure, cute as a ladybug on a daisy.

  The problem was that so many of these girls were cute, and a surprisingly large proportion of them were also blonde. In the chaos, I couldn’t tell which ones were gleefully going all cul
t-zombie and which ones were just going along with the crowd because it was trendy.

  The inner circle gathered closer around Erasmus, and somebody somewhere started beating a tom-tom drum. Its deep bass thudded across the night like a pulse. I pulled my robe over my face a little, making it like a hood, and swayed into the crowd as if I were dancing. The moans grew louder, and I realized they’d risen to a rhythmic chant.

  It still seemed kind of mild for a supposedly killer cult. Maybe this was Brainwash 101 for initiates like me, and we were expected to just keep our mouths shut and learn. It looked like Erasmus was after numbers here, trying to impress his acolytes with the sea of swaying beauties.

  So I kept my mouth shut, especially since I didn’t want to show my fangs. Yet.

  Erasmus Cole stood on the platform, his hands raised as if he were a conductor about to launch a symphony. He gazed up into the night, where a sallow wedge of moon slid toward Mount Shasta. I understand a little about the heavens and physics, since I’ve been around so long, and I knew the Earth was spinning and thereby creating the illusion of the moon’s slow movement.

  But still it looked as if the moon was sinking into the glistening, icy top of Mount Shasta, an impending collision of glowing forces only moments away.

  “Excuse me,” I said to one young blonde girl who looked about sixteen. From behind, I’d taken her for Parker’s sister. I wasn’t sure I’d have time to check the robes of every adolescent-looking female, and a couple of males were androgynous enough that I wasn’t quite sure of the gender until I was close enough to see their necks.

  I’m a big observer of necks, and I can spot an Adam’s apple at twenty paces. But I try to keep my distance, because necks start looking yummy if I stare at them too long.

  The chant started to sound like real words, English words, and at first I thought it was “Ray” something, like an ode to a sun goddess. The great stone beastess towering over Erasmus didn’t look very sunny, though, and I was pretty sure all of this was in tribute to her.