by Ian Hall
“No way, Mandy Cross,” he said. “Alan gave me some very specific orders regarding you. First and foremost: locate. You made that easy on me today. Second: detain. So, I need to know, are you gonna make that easy, too…or are we gonna have a problem?”
If it wasn’t for the baby between us, Newell and me would’ve been standing chest-to-chest. Vampires aren’t like humans - young people being strong and getting weaker as they age. It was just the opposite, in fact. And if I’d been afraid of Lucy back at her shop, I felt freaking terrified of Sheldon Newell.
Seriously - what could I do? I only cradled a china doll-sized person in my arms. Like I could fight him?
So, I tried to play it off like seeing Alan was already number one on my to-do list.
“Listen - if you’ve got any way of contacting Alan McCartney…I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d please do so. I mean, obviously he’s just as anxious to talk to me as I am him.” I batted my eyes. “Promise I’ll put in a good word for you after me and Alan get our little issue sorted out.”
“What’d you mean you’ll put in a good word for me?”
“Once Alan makes me his second, Sheldon.”
“You’re outta your fucking mind, lady.” Newell pounded his chest like King Kong. “I’m second in this territory.”
I did this really bitchy laugh. “Relax, Shel, I have no desire to take over your pathetic little land. My plans go way bigger than that. Obviously, so do Alan’s plans for me.”
“You seem pretty damn sure of yourself.”
“I mean - why else would he be SO intent on having you locate me in the first place? Alan McCartney and me had something super special together, Sheldon. I’m sure he’s not going to let a little thing like my murdering him get in the way of our eternal love.”
“So, you think you’re gonna be my boss?” Newell’s loose eye rolled around like a marble in the socket. “What the fuck is that all about? I had Alan’s back all these years and he’s just gonna move some cheap pussy up ahead of me?”
Cheap pussy? Gross.
“Maybe you didn’t do such a good job of watching Alan’s back in Gregor - huh? If you did then I wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near him that night. But, I did, Sheldon.” I made my tone real condescending. “You see, one of us proved ourselves to Alan that night; one of us did not.”
Both eyes went wobbly then…
“So, Sheldon, you’d better get used to taking orders from me as well as Alan McCartney.”
A smarter vampire would have just killed me. I don’t think it even crossed Newell’s mind.
“Let me ask you one more time, Sheldon…can you get in touch with Alan directly?”
“N-n-no. Not right now. He says he’ll contact me when he’s ready.”
“Very well. And when he does - what are you going to tell him?”
Newell looked like one brokenhearted vampire. “That Mandy Cross wants to talk to him…”
“That’s right.”
All pristine, I turned on my heel and walked right out of Sheldon Newell’s front door.
I’ve been in some crazy situations since becoming Helsing, but this one sure took the biscuit. Sandy aka Angela McCartney looked over the groveling Mexican, and pushed him out of the way. I’d like to say, in my newfound hunk-ness that she made straight for me, but she didn’t. She sat on the stool next to me and poured a shot into the Mexican’s glass. She had her priorities ok.
“You want another, beefcake?” she looked at my empty glass, but her eyes never really got up past my chest.
“Eh, no, I was just leaving.” I slid to the edge of my stool, but she laid her hand firmly high on my thigh. And I mean ‘high.’ Then she pushed herself close. I mean, Alan McCartney’s vampire mom was sliding her face under my chin, and I had to try and act normal.
She sniffed real good. “Amos has been busy,” she said, then suddenly shot away from me. From a face of confident sexy woman, she’d turned unbelievably timid, almost fearful.
“I didn’t mean to say that,” she said. “Please forgive me.”
She looked me right in the eye, and not one iota of recognition passed over her face. I mean, I’d changed a bit, the new body, the new hairstyle, but somehow I didn’t think she quite operated on the same wavelength as the rest of us.
“That’s all right, Sandy,” I said, pushing the empty glass in front of her. She filled it like I was some kind of lord or something. “There’s nothing to forgive.”
“It’s just that the boss told us never to use that name, but your aroma took me off guard, you’re obviously close; the influence is very close to the surface.”
“It’s been a while since I saw him.” I realized that I had no idea what I was talking about, making it up as I went along.
She looked up in my face like a frightened rabbit had just been told that the shotgun was unloaded. “So you’re not here to spy on us?”
At last I had an opportunity to keep it simple. “No.”
“Oh, thank goodness.” She took a swig from the bottle and offered it to me. I lifted it to my lips, but didn’t drink much. “I thought that Amos was checking on us. Oh, boy, did you give me a fright.”
I decided that I’d had enough of the danger, and moved to leave. I thumbed a twenty from my jeans and tossed it onto the bar.
Sandy vigorously shook her head. “You don’t pay! Not in my bar!”
“Why not?” I crossed to the door, hoping not to look back. There seemed no sense in giving her another chance to recognize me.
“One so ancient never pays.”
“Give it to Jose then.” I walked down the short passage to the front door. “I don’t give a fuck.”
I got out of the restaurant/bar and got down the steps to my car. By the time I’d opened the door and sat down, I shook like a leaf in a hurricane. When I crossed the bridge going north, I hollered at the top of my lungs.
Not only had I found Angela McCartney, but that I’d found her, and gotten out of there alive.
The next day, pretty early in the morning, the phone rang; Dave Muscat.
“Hi, Dave. What’s up?”
“Oh, just a routine call. We’ve got another celebration this weekend, do you want to come?”
The fact that Dave was asking me to an execution kinda surprised me. “Atlanta?”
“Yes, same place.”
“Cool. Anyone I know?” Hoping it wasn’t Mandy. I hadn’t heard from her for days, and I was getting worried.
“Don’t think so. A lone wolf out of Phoenix. Hideo knocked him off.”
“Ok, I’ll be there. What time are we leaving?”
“Leaving here at five-thirty.”
“OK, consider me in.”
He hung up.
So, the Helsings were actually going to allow me, Lyman the vampire/Helsing hybrid, to attend a vampire slaying. I felt under no illusion from the moment I placed the phone on the kitchen table.
This was nothing more than a test.
Once I’d gotten breakfast out of the way, I felt quite proud of my discipline. I spent the morning doing catch-up schoolwork, then settled myself into the safe room for the afternoon. I added Angela McCartney to the list of vampires, and also listed Sedona as a possible new nest.
Then, after much holding back, I did a search for Thomas Jesus Candy. Expecting nothing, I was surprised by the amount of hits I got.
Rich industrialist, hotshot entrepreneur, philanthropist, but no pics in the first three searches, and none in the next half hour.
“Ok,” I said with tightly pursed lips. “Let’s do this the hard way.”
I tried every way I could think, but got nothing. It was sure interesting that the head of such a lot of companies would be so anonymous.
So. I got clever, and got lists of his companies’ CEOs and searched for them. It took me all afternoon, but after at least three hours, I got a pic of Leonard Pishcelle, CEO of Canrec Global, one of Candy’s companies, at a Dallas Mavericks game. Behind
him were a few older men, all obviously more interested in the female company than the game.
I had it enlarged in my Photoshop program, and the results were not exactly clear. But I cut them up into mug-shots, and started a new search.
I worked there ‘til my stomach ached.
By the time I’d done seven more searches, I had three men who were in three of the groups.
I printed the last one and stuck it on the wall with the rest.
Then Mary-Christine arrived, school uniform, perky. I greeted her with a waiting barrage of “look-what-I’ve-done.” But before I could unload anything, she looked at the new pics on the wall.
“Where did you get those? That one looks like Amos Blanche.”
I made a pit stop on the way back from Harris; I had some pretty important business to take care of.
As I pulled up to the curb outside the clothing shop, Lucy closed the door, just locking up for the night. Another minute and I would have missed her. Guess it must have been fate.
“Lucy?” I called, rolling down the passenger window.
She gave me a grave look but came over to the car. Her eyes about doubled in size as she discovered the surprise I had my hand over on the passenger seat.
“Holy shit, girl - what have you done?”
Lucy practically tore the door off the hinges getting into the car. In a vampire swift, yet oddly gentle movement, she lifted the baby and held it to her chest.
Instant mama.
“It’s human,” I told her. “Sheldon Newell killed its mother today. Don’t know if it’s a boy or a girl…I didn’t want to get too personal with it…”
I’m not sure a single syllable registered. Lucy was way too busy cooing at the infant and saying stuff like, “You must be so hungry,” and, “Oh no…your diaper is full, little one…”
Without a freaking doubt I knew I’d made the right call.
“So…” I said, after a minute or two of watching them bond, “I’ve just given you a damn good reason to break away from the Blanches once and for all.”
That got through to her. For a second, I thought Lucy might just change her mind. Her eyes were filled with terror.
“How…”
“You’ll figure it out. I know you don’t think you’re strong enough but you are. You can do it, Lucy - and you won’t be the first.”
I thought of Jackson when I said that but Lucy looked at me like I was some kind of superhero. Under the circumstances, I let it slide. Whatever inspiration she needed…
“Where will I go?” she asked.
“Lady, you’re a freaking vampire. You can go anywhere you want!”
“But the child is human…”
“So are you. You’re not like the others.”
I let her stew on that for a few minutes, watching her pat the baby and comfort it while it wiggled and fussed in her arms.
“So? Do you want the kid or not?”
“More than anything.”
Lucy and me hit a few places around town to get the necessities: diapers, formula, car seat, that kind of junk. By the time I rolled out of Winslow, she had that kid set for life and made some pretty big talk about catching a plane to anywhere first thing in the morning. I had no doubt in my mind she’d make good on her plans.
So, I left there feeling pretty awesome. I knew I’d given Lucy a new purpose in life, something to be strong for. What I didn’t realize right away, that I’d done the same for myself.
It was one thing to go around taking out the bad Blanche vampires - the ones like Alan. But, what about the good ones? The ones who never asked for this life and just wanted a regular life? As regular as you can get when you’re a vampire.
I could help them. I would help them.
It seemed like such a Jackson-y thing to do; I knew he’d be proud of me.
And then my GD cell phone rang…
Spike, shouting into the phone, hysterical.
“I don’t know what’s happened to me,” he said. “Mandy…oh, my God, Mandy…the things I’ve done…”
Crap.
So much for the Good Samaritan vampire. I’d gone ahead and unleashed a blood-hungry lunatic on all those Mormons; and the poor guy didn’t even know what had happened to him.
“Just c’mon home, Spike. Everything will be okay…”
Even just my voice had enough of an effect that he calmed down. He repeated my order like I’d put him in a freaking trance.
“I’ll come home now. Everything will be okay.”
“Uh…yeah…and, Spike,” I made my words super clear, “DON’T BITE ANYONE!”
“I won’t bite any one…”
That put a damper on my spirits for sure. Spike was an asshole long before I ever met him; but, nobody deserved to be messed with like that. Now I had this whole new disaster to clean up and that thought kept me plenty occupied on my trip back to Gregor.
When I finally got back to Lyman’s house, I felt tired. Like, human tired; down to the bone. I hadn’t fed in several days. I could only hope there’d be a mouse or two scurrying around in the attic.
Once I got through the door, the Helsing stink helped shoot down my appetite. Not entirely, but enough. So, I went on down to the safe room to let them know I had returned from my scouting mission.
Lyman and Mary-Christine were all amped on some super adrenaline rush. I was thinking maybe they’d FINALLY gotten to third base - but it turned out they were all pumped up about something else entirely.
“Mandy!” Lyman said, without even turning around, like he’d sensed my presence. Creepy.
Mary-Christine, on the other hand, had been completely startled to see me.
I filed that away under “things to harass Lyman about later” and moved in closer.
“What’s up, you guys?”
They answered me at the same time, “Amos Blanche…he’s alive!”
We Hit Pay-Dirt; Bigtime
“Of course, he’s not called Amos Blanche anymore,” Mary-Christine said. “He’s taken on the hefty moniker of Thomas Jesus Candy”
Mandy stood close. I could feel her vampire-ness settle on my left. “Seems he’s been busy in the last thirty years. Made himself some money for a start, settled in on Phoenix, too.”
“It doesn’t look that much like him.”
“We think he’s been cosmetically altered.” Mary-Christine settled on my right, sliding her arm in mine. “But I see him right away. They’ve not changed the forehead, and of course, they can’t change the eyes.”
“But Amos is dead.” Mandy leant closer to the wall, running her fingers over all the pictures, as if trying to determine by touch. “Even Alan spoke that way, Jackson and his family, too.”
“So maybe we’re wrong,” I said.
“We can’t be,” Mary-Christine said.
“We have to be wrong?” Mandy turned to me. She looked a little white. Well, she looked a little paler than she normally did.
“Have you fed recently?” I asked, looking into her eyes closely.
“No. I need to do something about that pretty soon.” She looked a little sad at the prospect.
I suddenly startled back to the present. “Heck, Mandy. Tell us what you’ve been doing for the last few days. I’m sorry. I got embroiled in this, and lost track.”
By the time she’d brought us up to date, she looked ashen, and I physically pushed her out the back door. “Go eat.”
I shook my head as she disappeared. I had just told someone to go drink some blood. Life had changed, and it wasn’t all for the good. I also needed a bit of a lift; I felt well overdue with my pill regimen. I determined to take it soon.
I turned to find Mary-Christine behind me in the kitchen defrosting some sweet and sour thing.
“Mandy found a baby,” she said, obviously deep in thought. “What she did for that lady, that vampire, was nice.”
“Yeah, sure thing.” I considered the nice Mandy, and the nice Mary-Christine, then threw them together with my encourag
ement to let Mandy go feed. “I think we should tell your dad about Amos Blanche.”
“But what if Mandy’s right? We’d look pretty stupid. Maybe we ought to be checking our facts out, getting other sources.”
“Maybe.” I ate my plate of listless, crappy food in silence. I walked Mary-Christine around to her house, but didn’t go inside; I felt conflicted beyond talking to her folks. I just didn’t have the stomach for the conversation.
“They’re just standing there.”
I instantly positioned the sound as outside in the street. A click of static sounded after the words.
“I’m tired, honey,” I said, and kissed Mary-Christine lightly. We hugged, grinned at each other, and I propelled her towards the door. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yeah, tomorrow night, we’ll be flying to Atlanta.”
“Yes, we will.”
I walked down the drive, and sure enough, a dark car sat at the intersection of the roads. I turned away from the house, and strolled down the sidewalk of Cherry Avenue.
“He’s walking the wrong way.”
I had one more thing to try before I could be sure. I crossed the street to the Goodman’s house; an old couple that used to be friends with mom and dad. As the door opened, I heard the voice behind me. “1106.” I had my proof.
The door opened. “Hi, Mr. Goodman.”
“Eh, do I know you, son?”
I considered the change in me over the last few months. “It’s me, sir. Lyman Bracks. I just thought I’d tell you that there have been a few break-ins in the last few weeks, and to watch out for strangers. Just doing the rounds.”
“Ok, Lyman.”
I turned leaving a blank, questioning face behind me, but I now had proof that the radio voice was actually watching me. I walked past the car. Single occupant, male, mid-thirties bald as a coot.
As I approached the house, I now had to figure out exactly who was having me followed.
And if I was being followed by Dave Muscat, he had the resources to do much more than have me followed. I mean, he executed vampires for a living.
The next morning, before even I thought myself awake, I grabbed the yellow pages and tore out the section for ‘Detective Agencies.’ I walked to the coffee shop, used their phone, drank their coffee, and with a blueberry muffin being stuffed in my face, I walked back home.