The call from Wayne came at the crack of dawn. Luther’s lack of sleep left him feeling slightly groggy, and the drinks he and Celeste consumed at the Signature Lounge certainly didn’t help. Still, he managed to get his ’69 black Camaro downtown to the Drake Hotel.
Wayne stood outside the elevator on the twentieth floor, leaning against the wall. He held two cups of coffee, one of which he sipped from. When the doors opened and he saw Luther emerge, Wayne handed him the untouched cup and Luther took it in his leather-gloved hand.
“Sounded like you could use it,” he said. “Strong, black and bitter. You like your coffee the way I like my women.”
Luther took the cup and gulped down a copious amount of the drink. “Why do you always use that joke? It wasn’t funny the first five hundred times.”
“Is that why I’m still working a homicide beat instead of doing stand-up at the Laugh Factory?”
“One of many.” Luther took another sip. “You said there’s another one?”
Wayne nodded and the two men walked together down the corridor towards an open room with police tape and uniformed officers standing outside. The officers separated to allow Wayne and Luther access to the room.
Luther’s crimson eyes scanned the room from behind his sunglasses. He saw the woman’s body and the head not too far away, blood coating the carpet. “Same MO as Nina Bailey?”
“Yup.” Wayne took a hearty drink from his cup.
“Should probably tell you I had a visit from the owner of Lifeline last night,” said Luther.
“No shit?” Wayne turned his head towards Luther. “What’d she say?”
“She wants to hire me to find this bastard. Told her I’d think about it.”
“Not a bad idea. You were already pursuing the case anyway, why not profit off it?”
Luther looked at Wayne and tipped his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose. “You sound bitter.”
Wayne’s shoulders slumped. “Sorry, just exhausted. I know you mostly do good, but it’s that ‘mostly’ part that grinds me sometimes.”
Luther huffed and slid the glasses back up his nose. “I assume there’s a reason you needed me to come down and see this one in person. You could’ve told me over the phone that there was another victim.”
“Looks like this girl put up more of a fight.”
Luther looked around the room and saw that Wayne was right. The bedside lamp lay on the floor and the nightstand had been knocked over. There had definitely been a struggle. Luther approached the body, careful not to step in the blood, staring down at the lifeless figure. He saw something interesting and took off his sunglasses as he knelt closer. He carefully raised her wrist, examining the palm of her hand.
“Yeah, looks like he also marked her hand,” said Wayne. “There was still a cross carved into the forehead, in case you were wondering.”
“He didn’t make this mark, not intentionally anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look.”
Wayne moved across from Luther on the other side of the body and bent over. Luther held up the hand for him to see. With a finger, Luther traced the cross on the girl’s palm.
“Lot of vampire myths are bullshit, but one that’s not is sensitivity to religious artifacts,” said Luther. “It’s small enough to fit within the palm of her hand, so that means he probably had a cross on a necklace. During the struggle, she must’ve grabbed it by accident.”
Wayne stood upright. “Maybe I’m missing something. So she grabbed his cross, big deal, right? We already knew he was a religious whackjob, what does this change?”
“Everything.” Luther looked down at the hand. The cross outline had trefoil caps and the letters IC XC NIKA. Luther stood and headed towards the door. “Thanks for the coffee.”
Wayne held up his arms in confusion. “Hey, where the hell are you going?”
* * *
Jacob Karras slowly moved up the marble steps to the altar and knelt down before the large cross with the image of Jesus crucified. He bowed his head and made the sign of the cross over his body, then clasped his hands together, eyes shut in prayer. Although the priest heard the sound of the heavy wooden doors slamming open, he didn’t move from his position. It took another few moments before he was grabbed by the back of his shirt collar and thrown from the dais and into the front pew.
The priest groaned, pain shooting through his body. He looked up at his attacker and saw blood-red eyes staring down at him, eyes that were filled with anger and betrayal. Jacob sat upright and pressed his back against the pew. “Luther. What was that for?”
“For lying to me,” said Luther, towering over the priest, his gloved hands clenched into fists. “You told me you didn’t know of any hunters operating in the city.”
Jacob sighed. “I’m not following. Where is the lie in that?”
Luther grabbed the cross around Jacob’s neck and yanked on it. Jacob felt a sting at the back of his neck where the chain snapped. Luther held his palm open with the trefoil cross resting in there.
“There was another victim. She had this cross burned into the palm of her hand. It was identical.”
“These crosses are common in Orthodox churches—”
“The carvings around the trefoils and in the center of the cross,” said Luther. “You said those were a signature of this church.”
Jacob sighed. “Luther, please. I’ve known you a long time—”
Luther threw the cross across the church and Jacob heard it clatter against one of the stained glass windows. “Don’t play games with me, Karras. Tell me why you lied.”
Jacob held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. “Just give me a chance to explain.”
“Two minutes. That’s all you get. Two minutes to tell me why you’re helping a psychopath in my city.”
“His name is Norman Holt. I met him in Milwaukee six months ago,” Jacob began. “He was a soldier, just returned from the war. Not long after he returned, his wife and daughter were killed by a vampire.”
“You taught him how to kill them.”
Jacob lowered his hands, his face incredulous. “He wanted justice for his family. Surely you of all people can understand that.”
“So he kills the vampire who killed his family and discovered it wasn’t enough. He wanted more. It turned into an obsession.”
“He disappeared after he killed the vampire. I didn’t hear from him again until he turned up here a week ago,” said Jacob. “Said he’d gotten word of a vampire whorehouse operating within the city. Needed some assistance, mostly with money to fund his cover.”
“He’s killed two of these women so far,” said Luther.
Jacob scoffed. “Come on, Luther. Those aren’t real women and you know it. They’re monsters.”
Luther bent down, setting his hands on the back of the pew on either side of Jacob. He stared into the priest’s blue eyes. “Then what does that make me?”
Jacob shook his head. “Don’t you twist this, Luther Cross! Norman looked into the face of evil and watched as it tore his family from him. He’s no different from y—”
Luther sharply jabbed a finger in front of Jacob’s face. “You finish that sentence, and I’ll tear your goddamn throat out.” Luther stood upright. “Holt’s out of his mind. This stopped being about justice a long time ago. You may not like what these women do, but they’re not killers. He derives some kind of twisted pleasure from this.”
The paranormal investigator pulled his coat and jacket open, revealing the butt of his mystic handgun holstered under his arm. “I’m giving you one chance to make this right, Jake. Tell me where I can find Holt. And don’t you even think about lying to me.”
Jacob sighed. “I don’t know. He only sees me after a job is done. For confession.”
“So he was here earlier?”
Jacob nodded. “But I don’t know where he is, I swear to you. All I know is he’s still in the city and he said he’s not finished.”
“You
said he sees you for confession. Orthodox church doesn’t do that.”
“He was raised Catholic. Old habits die hard, I suppose,” said Jacob. “That’s why I gave him the cross—it was for his baptism.”
Luther folded his arms. “I want to be crystal clear about this. When I find Holt, I’m going to kill him. A rabid dog like that needs to be put down. And you’d better not pull this kind of shit ever again, or else I’ll come for you next.”
Jacob opened his mouth to respond, but no sound came forth. Luther walked down the aisle towards the exit, but before he reached the final pew, he stopped and spun on his heel. Luther looked up at the wooden cross and said, “You said your god is about love. Ask yourself how butchering these women honors that love.”
Luther donned his sunglasses as he exited the church, stepping out into the sunlight. Luther took out his cell phone and the card Celeste had given him. He dialed the number as he walked to his Camaro.
“It’s Cross. Meet me at my place, I’ve decided to take your case.”
* * *
When Luther answered the knock at his door, he saw Celeste standing in the corridor, wearing a wide-brimmed hat and sunglasses. She also had a scarf around her neck and every inch of her skin from that point down was covered.
“I don’t usually like venturing outside during the day,” she said, removing her sunglasses and then her hat.
“I appreciate it. Come on.” Luther stepped aside and held open the door for her. Celeste walked inside and went straight to the couch, taking a seat without an offer made. Luther sat in his recliner.
“Thank you for doing this,” she said. “I’m sure you already know, but there was another murder last night.”
“I know. I’ve gotten a name—Norman Holt. He’s ex-military, which means he’s well-trained.” Luther opened the cigar box and took one out, first offering it to Celeste. She held up her hand in a sign of rejection and Luther lit the cigar for himself. “He’s not leaving until he’s wiped out every one of your girls. But I don’t know where to find him and I’m not sure if I’ll be able to before he kills again. I need to know if you’ve got any new clients requesting appointments.”
“Mostly it’s just regulars,” said Celeste. “There was one new client that came through, but I refused it. After Nina and now Jade, I just can’t take any more risks.”
“May not have a choice,” said Luther. “The only way I can find Holt is by setting a trap.”
Celeste shook her head. “That’s not happening. I won’t let you use any of my girls as bait.”
Luther puffed on the cigar. “Celeste, we don’t have a lot of options. We don’t actually have to send one of your girls, just make an appointment so we know where to find the bastard. He opens the door, finds me there, and I take him out.”
“No. Holt’s going after my family. This is personal for me.” Celeste’s eyes were steel-hard and her jaw tightly set. “You want to set a trap for him? Fine. Then I’m the bait.”
“Uh-uh, I’m not putting you in that situation.”
“Of course you’re not, I’m putting myself in it. And you’ll be standing by in case things go bad. But this is something I have to do. Either you help me or I do it on my own.”
Luther sighed, chewing on the end of the cigar. After a few moments, he looked up at her. “Okay, I’m in.”
* * *
Celeste called back the client, who told her he was staying at the Langham. The name he gave was Herbert Lom, the name of another actor who played Van Helsing. That was how Luther was positive this was their man. She entered the lobby of the Langham with a white fur coat and strolled across the marble floor to the elevators. As she waited for the elevator, Celeste opened her handbag and took out the small index card on which she’d written the room number. Once the elevator arrived, Celeste entered and hit the button for the twelfth floor, dropping the card into her purse. She took out a compact mirror and checked her make-up as she waited for the elevator to reach her floor.
She didn’t know where Luther was, but he said he’d be nearby. That made her slightly nervous, trusting him to watch her back when she couldn’t even see him. But something about the man made her believe that he could be relied upon.
The elevator arrived and Celeste sauntered into the hallway, moving through the corridor until she came to a stop at room number 1212. She rapped her knuckles a few times on the door.
When it opened, she looked up at the tall, burly man who stood inside the room. He had dark hair closely cropped to his head and a faint beard. He wore slacks and a black shirt with the collar open, the trefoil cross hanging around his neck. He regarded Celeste with cold, gray eyes.
“Herbert Lom?” she asked.
Norman Holt’s eyes traveled from her face and down the length of her body, then back up again. The corner of his lips rose in a smile, but there was something about it that unsettled Celeste’s stomach. He stepped aside and gestured towards the room. “Come on in.”
Celeste entered the room, looking around as she walked down the short corridor into the main room. The bed was king-size and the large window overlooked the Chicago River.
Strong hands fell on her shoulders and Celeste gasped. The hands gently removed her coat from her body. Beneath the coat, her tight, black dress reached down to mid-thigh. Holt took the coat over to the window and draped it over one of the cloth chairs. He came back to Celeste and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her body close to his. Holt inhaled deeply through his nose, taking in her scent and brought his face down to her neck, gently kissing her there. His hands move up and down her back and Celeste hesitates to place her hands on him. Her body stiffened, afraid to do anything other than just stand there.
Holt’s arms tightened around her body and she felt his teeth clamp down on her neck. She cringed at the bite and then heard him speak in a deep voice. “Is this what it’s like when you take them? When you suck the life from them? This how you do it?”
Holt threw her up against the wall and wrapped his hand around her throat. Celeste grabbed his wrist. He was extremely strong, almost unnaturally so, and even with her vampiric strength she found it difficult to get free of his grip.
Celeste snapped her leg up, driving her knee into his groin. Holt released her throat and doubled over. Celeste raised her elbow and dropped it on his back, throwing him to the ground.
“That was for Nina,” she said, then delivered a swift kick to his ribs. “And that was for Jade.”
Celeste turned, looking at the closed door. No word from Luther and no sign of him either. She guessed she didn’t need his help any way. Only thing left was to get rid of this scumbag. Celeste considered draining every drop of blood from his body, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted his blood in her mouth.
A searing pain struck her leg, powerful enough to drop her to her knees. Celeste could smell her calf sizzling. Holt stood up and moved over her, the cross held in his hand. He straddled her, resting his knees on her arms and pinning her down. Holt held the cross over her chest and slammed it down.
Celeste’s fangs emerged from her gums in reaction and she shrieked in agony. The scent of burning flesh violated her nostrils and the feeling of the cross against her bare skin was like having a burning hot coal stamped into her breast.
Holt kept the cross to her chest, his lips spread in a wide, toothy grin as he heard her screams echo in the room. Finally, he stood, the cross dangling from his closed fist by the gold chain. Holt reached down under the bed and pulled out a machete, removing it from its leather sheath. He slowly moved back to Celeste, who lay gasping for breath on the carpet, still weakened from the cross.
“I want you to take solace in the fact that soon, you’ll enter the embrace of your dark lord.” Holt raised the machete, running his palm along the wide expanse of the blade. He knelt down, placing his palm flat on her chest, the cross again touching her skin and again, burning into her. Holt raised the machete above his head, ready to bring it down upon her neck.
The door to the room shattered, the wood splitting with a loud noise. Holt stood and turned, sliding the cross into his pocket. He faced the door, tightening his grip around the machete’s handle. Luther Cross stood in the frame, the door now in splinters at his feet. He saw Celeste on the ground and removed his glasses, his crimson eyes burning brightly.
Holt blinked several times. “Wh-what the hell are you?”
“Hell’s a good word.”
The instant Holt saw Luther’s hand go inside the jacket, he broke from his shock and barreled towards him. He was so fast that once Luther had the gun fully drawn, Holt had already closed the distance between them and he tackled Luther, knocking the gun from his hand and throwing them both through the doorway. They both slammed into the wall opposite Holt’s room. Holt raised the machete, about to stab Luther. But the demonic investigator wasn’t concerned, instead he stared into Holt’s gray eyes and spoke a single word: “Aduro!”
Holt’s shirt burst into flames and he stood up, dropping the machete and screaming as he fell to the ground, rolling to put them out. The commotion drew other people from their rooms, who watched in horror.
Holt managed to put out the flames, tearing off the remains of his scorched shirt, revealing a muscled, toned physique. His skin had black marks on it, but otherwise he was unharmed. Luther drew his silver dagger, a pentagram carved into its ivy hilt. Holding it in his grip, Luther thrust it at Holt. The hunter grabbed Luther’s arm and twisted it, squeezing tightly and pulling until the knife fell. Holt grabbed the hilt in a reverse grip and stabbed it into Luther’s shoulder.
Holt grabbed Luther by his shoulders and pulled him down close enough so Holt could jam a knee into his opponent’s face. Luther rocked back and Holt came forward with a left-hook, knocking Luther back into the hotel room. Luther fell on his back and Holt hefted him up, throwing him past the room’s foyer and into the flat-screen television mounted on the wall.
Celeste had recovered from Holt’s attack and pounced on his back, wrapping her legs around his waist and her arm around his neck. She squeezed, but Holt struggled. He threw himself back, flattening Celeste against the wall and forcing her grip to loosen. Holt grabbed her by the throat and pushed her against the wall, raising her up. He pulled the cross from his pocket and dangled it in front of Celeste’s face.
Devil's Taunt and Other Stories Page 15