Tom opened his yap to speak again, but she held up a hand to silence him. “‘Draculas’ is kind of a nickname. After Stoker's book started to get popular, a few people began referring to the First Coven by that name as kind of a sick joke. After a while, it stuck.”
“And these elder vampires,” I asked, “who presumably predate the book by quite a bit, are okay with this?”
“Don't be crazy,” she answered. “If you called them the Draculas to any of their faces, they'd rip you to pieces and take turns wiping their asses with your remains. Like I said, it's a nickname. If you are ever called before them, you make it a point to keep the word ‘Dracula’ as far from your mouth as possible. These guys do not have a sense of humor.”
“Have you ever met them?” Ed asked, his eyes meeting ours in the rearview mirror.
“No, but then nobody in our coven has. James is the closest we get to them and, as long as we fly under the radar, that's the way it'll stay. Supposedly there was this coven up in Westchester about seventy-five years ago whose leader got called in to meet with the Draculas. I don't know what happened, but he must have insulted them in some way because, by the next week, that entire group was wiped out to the last member.”
“Supposedly?” asked Ed.
“Well, that's what I heard, anyway. It was a little before my time.”
Ed was still not buying it, though. “Then how can you be sure it's not all bullshit? For all you know, these Draculas are a bunch of toothless old geezers gumming their victims to death.”
“It doesn't work that way,” she stated. “Bill, you've seen James in action.”
I nodded and replied, “Damn straight. That guy's all sorts of scary. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of any hurt he was dishing out.”
“Exactly. Generally speaking, as vampires get older, they get more powerful. Well, all of the Draculas are older than James, some of them by a lot.”
“Okay, well that's kind of ... frightening. And James was summoned by them?”
“One of them,” she replied. “The Khan, to be exact.”
Before she could say another word, she was drowned out by the voices of three Star Trek geeks simultaneously shouting, “KHAAAAANNNNN!!!”
When we had at last died down, she asked, “Do I really want to know what that was about?”
“Doubtful,” Ed answered.
“So, this Khan dude,” Tom piped in, “are we talking Space Seed or Genghis?”
Sally looked perplexed. “Space seed? Whatever that is, I'm thinking probably not. And no, he's not Genghis Khan.”
“I didn't think so,” he said. “That would just be silly.”
“He's Ogedei Khan,” she continued. “Genghis' son.”
Tom got a blank look on his face, and then replied, “Oh, of course. That's a lot less silly.”
Sally shot back, “Be thankful. If we had turned Genghis, humanity would probably all be living in cattle pens right now. Ogedei was just as good of a leader, but a bit mellower as far as conquest was concerned.”
“Okay, so that sorta makes sense, I guess,” I replied. “James said he represents the Draculas in these parts. So, where is he?”
“According to this?” She glanced down at the paper. “The Gansu province of China.”
“China? Why the hell is he in China?”
“That's where the Khan is.”
“I get that, but why did he send for James? That seems like it's a little outside of his jurisdiction.”
“Because the Khan is James's sire,” she explained. “When the guy who made you is also one of the high muckety mucks, you tend to pick up when he calls.”
That piqued Ed's curiosity and he asked, “So, what’s the deal? Did he turn James when the Mongols were busy trying to annex the rest of the world?”
“I don't know the specifics,” she admitted, “but from what I've heard, it was a bit after that. Supposedly James met the Khan in China.”
“So, what was he doing in China six-hundred years ago?” I asked. “I didn’t know it was a big vacation spot back in those days.”
“James once told me he was traveling there with Marco Polo as a member of his expedition. Pretty mind-blowing, huh?”
There was a chorus of affirmation within the car. Mind blowing was kind of an understatement. About a month ago, I was battling ancient beings with either a twenty-sider or a computer mouse. Today I was actually hobnobbing with living pieces of history. Stuff like this, one needed to sit down and contemplate. Unfortunately, now was neither the time, nor the place.
Ed finally broke my reverie. “This is all fascinating, but why did the Khan recall this James guy all the way back to Asia? Was he jonesing for some baked beans and clam chowder?” Like I said, shit just doesn't faze him like it does other people.
Sally chuckled. “Maybe James was jonesing for some genuine Chinese food.” Her grin faltered. “Unfortunately, though, it doesn't appear either is the case. From what I can understand, the report states that some of the covens under the Khan's personal stewardship were attacked. He wanted people he could trust to investigate.”
“Who would be insane enough to attack vampires?” asked Ed.
“Kung Fu masters,” Tom replied. We all stopped to stare at him for a second. “Why not? This is China we're talking about.” I loved him like a brother but, goddamn, he could be a fucking moron.
Before he could say anything else stupid, I jumped in. “Other vampires, maybe? Those assholes in Queens had no trouble coming after me.”
“No way,” Sally said. “Coven wars happen from time to time, but none of us would be insane enough to do this with one of the Draculas in the immediate area. This was someone ... something else.”
“Werewolves?” Ed offered, but she waved her hand in dismissal.
“Sorry to break it to you guys, but werewolves don't exist. They're just a myth.”
There was a chorus of disappointed voices in the car. That sucked. Werewolves were kick ass.
“Hold on,” I said. “What do you mean they don't exist? Didn't you and James tell me that myths had a basis in reality?”
Sally rolled her eyes at me. It had been a few hours since the last time. I was almost starting to miss it ... almost. “Some myths are real. Some are just the result of someone getting high off the local fauna and having a bad acid trip.”
Yeah, I guess that made sense. Forget myth – there was some seriously weird shit that popped up from time to time in the news. No doubt, a good chunk of it could be explained away as someone watering down their hooch with a little too much antifreeze. “Fine, no werewolves,” I said with a touch of regret. “Then what attacked those covens?”
“How am I supposed to know? We're vampires. We have enemies. Not all of them are human.”
Remembering something from the other night, I asked, trying to sound more knowledgeable than I was, “Does this have anything to do with your war against the Feet?”
That seemed to catch her by surprise and she narrowed her eyes. “Where did you hear about that?”
“Around,” I coyly replied. “So, does it?”
“I don't know,” she said quietly, as if in contemplation. “It’s possible.”
Of course, then Tom had to go and ruin it by speaking. “Feet? Is there some kind of demonic foot fungus at work here? I hear they sell spray for that.” That more or less killed the mood, and any chance I had at getting answers to a question that...
Well okay, a question I hadn't given a second thought to before now, but hey, knowledge is power. Maybe I should have listened to Sally's earlier advice and left my roommates at home.
She shook her head and snapped, “It's not important. What matters is that James is out of the country, and what's of utmost importance for you, Bill, is that it's for an indeterminate amount of time.”
I felt a little tingling at the base of my brainstem as she said that, but I thought it best to ask rather than assume. “It's important to me why?”
“Beca
use you're under his protection. With him gone, Colin or another vampire will step in to do his duties, but protection is another matter entirely. That's not transferable. If James isn’t around, it's as good as out of sight, out of mind.”
“But you said ‘indeterminate,’” I replied, grasping at whatever straws I could. “That means he could be back a year from now, or he could be back tomorrow.”
“It doesn't really work that way for us,” she said. “If he was called in from five thousand miles away and not given any time to settle his accounts first, that means whatever is going down is pretty big and the Khan wants someone he can trust to look into it. Whatever James is going to do for him, you can bet it'll be with a fine-toothed comb. Immortals can afford to be thorough.”
“Which means...?”
“Which means that if I was a betting girl, and I am, my money would be on not expecting to see James again for at least six months ... probably more.”
“But if Jeff snuffs me now...”
“Then who's to say he didn't do it two months from now? You think anyone in the coven is going to officially rat him out? Not likely. Being a coven leader has its perks, not the least of which is that he's going to be given the benefit of the doubt.”
“All of this assumes he actually knows James is out of the country,” Ed pointed out.
Sally turned to me to answer. “Remember back there when I said that Jeff and I both knew Colin?”
I nodded in return.
“Well, we do. That means that if I knew how to grease Colin's wheels...”
Tom turned back toward us with wide eyes and rapt attention.
“With money, you pervert.”
He turned away, suddenly losing interest.
“If I knew how to get Colin to talk, then Jeff obviously would, too.”
“Maybe he didn’t think to...”
“Oh, stop it,” she snapped. “Jeff may be stupid, but he's over a hundred and twenty years old. He knows how to play the game. Even if he didn't, though, Colin's not known for his sense of humor.”
I nodded, but Ed asked, “What do you mean by that?”
“I kinda, sorta might have joked to him, as we were leaving, that I reformatted his computer.”
“But did you actually do it?”
“It doesn't matter,” Sally said. “Guys like him have massive egos. Most vampires, once they get a few centuries under their belt, lose the ability to laugh at their own expense.”
Ed nodded in the rearview mirror. “So even if Jeff didn't grease the wheels, so to speak, you think this Colin guy might give him a call and spill his guts as sort of a farewell ‘fuck you.’”
“Almost definitely,” she answered. “Petty revenge is pretty much his middle name.”
“I guess there's something to be said for occasionally letting the other guy get the last word.”
“Yeah,” I replied. “I'm beginning to think maybe I should occasionally keep my mouth shut.”
“Kinda like a smoker who decides to quit after he’s already found out he has lung cancer?” Tom remarked.
“Better late than never, I guess,” was the only answer I had for that.
We drove on in silence for a little while until Tom couldn't take it anymore. “So, what are we going to do about this puddle of shit we find ourselves wading into?”
“I've been thinking about that,” replied Ed. “As far as I can tell, there's only one thing we can do.”
“Let me guess: settle my affairs and pick out a nice urn to hold my ashes?” I morosely asked.
“Vampirism is lost upon you,” he said with a pained sigh. “No, dingleberry, we take the fight to Jeff. We hunt down and kill the fucker before he can do it to you.”
There was a moment of stunned silence before Tom once again chimed in. “And by we, you mean...”
“WE, dipshit. As in all of us, as in I don't want to spend the next several weeks screening for a new roommate.” Ed's eyes met mine in the rearview mirror. “As in, he fucks with one of us...”
“He fucks with all of us,” I finished.
Tom shrugged. “Oh well. Guess I've led a good life. At least I can go out knowing I've gotten more action than either of you two fags.”
“Your left hand doesn't count,” Sally commented before her tone turned serious again. “It won't be easy. Jeff's a lot more powerful than any of us.”
I smiled at that. “Us? So does that mean you want to come to our little asshole-killing party?”
“I can try. I told you once already, I can't stand him. I wouldn't shed any tears if he wound up a pile of ash. There's only one problem.”
“What?”
“Jeff can't order you around, but I'm a different story,” she explained. “I can maybe resist his compulsions to a degree, but there's nothing to say he either won't be able to stop me in my tracks with a word or maybe even outright turn me against you.”
“Earplugs, maybe?” Tom suggested.
“Doesn't work like that. It's a psychic thing. They don't make plugs for that.”
“When he tried to compel the others to attack me the other week, it didn't work,” I pointed out.
“Fear and doubt are powerful emotions, even for a compulsion to overcome,” she replied. “Sorry to say, Bill, but I'm not all that afraid of you.”
“What about hatred?” I asked.
“What?”
“Think about it. You said fear is a powerful emotion. So is hatred. If you focus on how much you hate his guts, maybe that'll work, too.”
She didn't have a reply for that one. She just sat there, mulling it over.
Tom turned and smiled at me. “Damn, Bill, I think that might be the first good idea I've ever seen you come up with.”
“What about you, Ed?” I asked. “What do you think?”
“What I think,” he answered, “is that maybe we should see if we can coax a little more speed out of this thing while we still have the element of surprise.”
♦ ♦ ♦
Okay, so maybe that wasn't the best of ideas. Ed brought the Escalade up to around eighty as soon as traffic eased up a bit. That allowed us to burn off more miles, for about twenty minutes, until we saw flashing red and blue lights behind us. In the dark, we had easily missed spotting the speed trap.
“Just fucking great!” Ed exclaimed.
“Yeah,” Tom added. “This is definitely going to slow us down.”
“Especially the whole stolen-vehicle-with-a-dead-owner thing. That ought to eat up just a little bit of time,” Sally remarked. “But don't worry. I'm sure you'll all find boyfriends nice and quick at Rikers.”
“Shit! I forgot about that part,” Ed spat. “So what do we do?”
“Preferably without causing a multi-state manhunt for a bunch of cop killers,” I added, eyeballing Sally.
“You take all the fun out of this,” she cooed. “I don't suppose you're all up for a high speed chase?”
The Tome of Bill Series: Books 1-4 (Bill The Vampire, Scary Dead Things, The Mourning Woods, Holier Than Thou) Page 22