by AE Jones
He hesitated, and I could almost hear the wheels turning as he weighed his options. Were we really trying to help him, or were we just acting nice while we pumped him for information? I couldn’t blame him.
I acquiesced. “Let’s do it this way. We’ll tell you what we’ve learned so far, and you can fill us in on the rest. A week ago a vampire named Charles Hampton was decapitated in the Erie Bar. By the time we arrived on the scene, Hampton’s head was missing.”
Watson interrupted. “How did you get the people in the bar to keep quiet? Did you kill them?”
I sighed. “No, we erased their memories of the event. As Misha told you, our job is to protect. This means we sometimes make people forget what they saw. Do you have Hampton’s head?”
“No.”
I hadn’t thought he did, but I wanted to be sure. “How did you end up at the bar?”
Watson stared at me for a moment before responding. “I had been following Hampton.”
“Because he killed Father Cowell and Brubaker?” I asked.
His eyes widened. “Yeah, the bastard tortured them to death.”
I continued. “You followed Byron home to ask him about Hampton’s head?”
“I thought since he worked as the bartender and was a mons…I mean a supernatural, he might know where the head was.”
“And you tortured him.”
“No.” He shook his head and cringed at the movement. “I went to his place and found him dead. Then I heard a noise at the front door so I hid.” He stared at me. “When you came into the apartment, I thought you were a supernatural, so I hit you over the head and ran.”
“Why were you looking for Hampton’s head?” Misha interrupted.
“I was afraid he had learned too much from Father Cowell and Jonathan. I didn’t know if those memories could be extracted or not. Hell, I wasn’t sure if he was really dead. For all I know, vampires are like worms and can grow body parts back when they’re cut off.”
A soft chuckle came from the doorway. “That would be wonderful, but unfortunately, we cannot grow back appendages.”
Watson’s eyes widened and Jean Luc held up his hands. “Please do not try to run. Doc and I spent too much time sewing you up earlier. I do not want to have to start over again.”
Dalton interrupted. I was actually surprised he had waited this long to ask questions. “Why did Hampton kill Cowell and Brubaker? Was it related to the dig in Turkey?”
“Yeah. Two years ago I was stationed in Turkey protecting the dig site. There had been some threats of violence from the locals, who felt their land was being desecrated, so we were called in. I met Father Cowell and Jonathan on the site. At first, everything was fine, uneventful really.”
“What happened to change that?” I asked.
“The dig overall seemed to be a bust. There were no major finds. When the head honchos arrived, everyone was scrambling around making a big deal out of nothing. But Hampton was not impressed.”
I leaned forward in my chair. “Hampton was there?”
“He was going by the name of Joseph Small at the time.”
Several eyebrows raised.
“What happened then?”
“Since the boss men were there, the dig coordinators decided to work overnight. Jonathan and Father Cowell were working in a remote area and thought they had come across something. But when the rest of the group got to them, they said it was a false alarm. After that, they both started acting weird, withdrawn. I watched them, thinking maybe they had found a relic and were trying to steal it or something.” He paused. “I’m sorry, can I have some water?”
I waited impatiently, biting my bottom lip, while Doc handed him a cup and he took a sip before continuing. “The next night, everyone left early to get some sleep. I got the short straw and had to stand night duty. While I was walking the perimeter lights, Father Cowell and Jonathan came back to the site and entered a tent. I hung back to see what they were up to and after a couple of minutes I saw Hampton enter the tent as well. By the time I got closer, I could hear yelling. Hampton was demanding they give him the key and they told him they didn’t have a key. When Jonathan started screaming, I ran into the tent. Hampton’s nails had turned into claws and he had freaking fangs. I pointed my rifle and capped him were he stood.”
Unfortunately, I knew where this was going. “And he didn’t go down.”
Watson nodded. “He staggered, and looked down at his bloody chest then back up at me and took a step toward me. I shot him again. Father Cowell grabbed a small bag and screamed for Jonathan to run. Before they made it out of the tent, a Pavel materialized. At the time, I didn’t know what the hell it was, other than I thought the world was coming to an end.”
“How did you get away?” Misha asked.
“Father Cowell threw the bag he was carrying at the demon and spouted something in Latin, and then he shoved us both out of the tent while the vamp and demon fought over the bag.”
“What did you do then?” Misha persisted. His eyes were dancing. He was enjoying this story as much as his TV shows.
“I seriously thought about going AWOL until Father convinced us we were safe. He said the angels had given him a prayer that he had spoken to make them forget about us. All they really cared about was the key anyway.”
“And where is this key?” I asked.
Watson answered, “I don’t know. All Father would tell me was the vampire and demon did not have the real key. No one could ever actually possess it.”
Dalton took a step closer to the bed. “Father Cowell was keeping a journal with information about demons. There is an excerpt in the front which was partially translated. Is that information about the key?”
“Yeah, he said it referenced the key. But he had more than one journal. I have his other book stashed.”
“Where is it?” Dalton asked.
“It’s at the train terminal in a locker. The key is in my pants.”
Doc interrupted. “Okay. Enough, he needs some rest.”
“But we’re not done,” I grumbled.
“He isn’t going anywhere right now.”
Watson looked around the room, and when he saw we weren’t going to do anything to him, let out a deep breath. I grinned and patted his arm. “Don’t worry, we aren’t going to kill you. We’re the good guys.”
Chapter 33
“Are you ready for a field trip to the train station?” I asked.
Dalton grinned. “Yep.”
I grinned back. Boys and their trains. I picked up my phone, noticing I had a new email message. I clicked it. “Carl emailed me.”
“About what?”
“I totally forgot I had asked him about two of the students in the pictures he sent. He gave me the names, but he isn’t sure where they are at this point. Jonathan hadn’t kept in touch with them after graduation.” I scanned the names. “Let me forward this to Misha and get him to start digging into their whereabouts.”
Dalton and I walked out of Doc’s office into the hallway. Watson was hobbling along slowly with Doc clucking like a mother hen behind him.
I called out to him, “You’re not trying to be an overachiever are you?”
He shook his head. “The faster I start moving around, the faster I can be on my way.”
Jean Luc entered the hallway through the morgue door. “I would not be in any rush.”
“What do you mean?” Watson asked.
“Misha just called. When he left here a few minutes ago, he was followed. He planned to lead them away and call us to evacuate, but after a couple of minutes the car turned around and headed back in this direction. I think whoever was following him realized you were not with Misha, so they came back here.”
I had to ask, but I was pretty sure I already knew the answer. “How did they know he wasn’t with Misha?”
“They could tell there were no humans in the car by scent. Plus, if they are the vampires who attacked Jason, they will be able to identify him by his blood.”
>
“Great.” Watson stepped into the morgue area and sat down heavily in the chair I offered him. “What’s to stop them from coming in here?”
Doc answered him. “This facility is like a supernatural version of an embassy. They don’t dare come in here. It would cause an incident that would be, at the very least, viewed unfavorably by most of the supernatural community.”
“But once I leave here?”
“All bets are off,” I said.
Watson glanced around at us. “Now what do we do?”
I smiled. “We’ll give them what they’re looking for. Dalton, are you up for a little bait and switch?”
* * *
Jean Luc drove us to the train station. Dalton sat in the back seat wearing a hooded zip-up jacket. Stuffed in his pocket were several pieces of Watson’s bloody shirt.
Jean Luc peered in the rear view mirror. “They are still following us.”
“Like damn blood hounds.” I peered sheepishly at Jean Luc. “Sorry.”
“No offense taken.”
“Do we know the plan?” I prodded.
Dalton nodded. “Jean Luc will get me on a train, and hopefully our two vampire friends will follow me.”
“Right, and in the meantime, I’ll get the journal out of the locker. And while we’re gone, Misha will move Watson and Doc to a safer place.”
Jean Luc parked and the three of us entered the station. I separated from the guys and took a roundabout route to the lockers. Plenty of people were milling around the terminal area, but no one seemed to be following me. I slipped into the women’s restroom, and after a couple of minutes came back out again. No one lurked outside waiting for me.
Weaving through the lockers, I found number 321 and opened the door. It appeared empty, but I didn’t panic. Instead, I reached up and found the plastic bag taped to the inside top of the locker as Watson had instructed. I ripped it down, took the small book out of the bag and slipped it into a new plastic bag to mask any scents, stuffed the book in my bag, and walked toward the exit. Pulling a sanitizing wipe from one of the containers strategically located throughout the station, I cleaned my hands quickly, and chucked it into the garbage.
With a relieved breath, I went out to the car and jumped in. My whole adventure had taken a whopping twelve minutes. I started the car and pulled up closer to the station doors. My phone beeped. It was a text message from Misha. He had successfully moved Doc and Watson.
After another five minutes, my nerves jangled, especially since I had to circle the parking lot once when a cop motioned me to move on. When I came around and parked the second time, Dalton walked out the door and got into the back of the van.
“Go. Jean Luc is going to meet us around back.”
I pushed lightly on the accelerator when what I really wanted to do was slam my foot to the floor in a rubber-burning getaway. Then I maneuvered around to the back of the building, as close to the door as I could. Within a minute, Jean Luc came out and climbed into the car, as calm as could be.
I pulled out of the parking lot. “Did it work?”
“Yes. Joe did a wonderful job. They followed him onto the train.”
Dalton chimed in, “I waited until the train was almost ready to leave. Then I threw pieces of bloody shirt in several garbage containers, ditched the sweatshirt and the last bloody shirt piece in the garbage in one of the lavatories, and jumped off when the train started moving.”
“Once Joe disembarked, I watched, but they did not follow him. They must have been confused by the smell of blood scattered throughout the train.”
“I got a text from Misha while I was waiting. He’s moved Doc and Watson out of the facility.”
Jean Luc preened and then gave me a quick pat. “You could be a criminal mastermind if you let yourself, Kyle.”
“I’ll stick with the job I have for the time being. In my bag is the book, Jean Luc. Why don’t you check it out while I get us to the safe house.”
The safe house was a place Misha’s demon clan used in times of crisis. According to Misha, it could not be linked to anyone in the clan, but was always kept available. I was pretty sure when Misha had asked Boris if he could use the place, he neglected to tell his father the person they were protecting was the one who’d shot his son. Misha was a forgiving demon, but Boris did not strike me as having the same inclinations.
The house was a nondescript two-story in a middle-class neighborhood. When we turned into the driveway, the garage door opened and I drove inside. We got out and went through the door into a large kitchen, where Misha waited for us. “I saw you coming. Everything went okay?”
“Yep, the vamps are on their way to Columbus,” I said. “Where’s Doc?”
“She left. Don’t worry, they won’t find her. If a succubus doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be.”
I walked over and sat down next to Watson. “How’re you doing?”
“Good, I guess.”
Jean Luc placed the book on the table in front of Watson. “This book contains descriptions of the five demon clans missing from the first book. There is also information in here about vampires and shifters.”
“How did Cowell find out about them?” I asked Watson.
He shrugged. “I guess once you know demons exist, you are more open to seeing the supernatural things around you. Ever since the Turkey dig, Father Cowell, Jonathan, and I have kept in touch. Father spent the last few years researching demons. He felt if we knew more about them, it would help us deal with them. Jonathan and I took a more pragmatic approach. I wanted to know how to kill them, so he helped me with that part of the research. After shooting Hampton in the chest and then watching him walk away, I knew we had to find a better way to defend ourselves.”
“What about the writing in the beginning?” Jean Luc asked. “This is the same as in the other book, and I cannot translate it.”
Watson shook his head. “You wouldn’t be able to translate it, anyway. Father worked on it himself for years. He said only a man of God could translate it. That the angels protected it. He always said he wished he could have Father Brown work on it.”
“Why?” Dalton asked.
“Brown is a linguist. Father Cowell said if anyone could figure it out, he could.”
I rubbed my temples with my fingertips, trying to stop the headache threatening to pounce. “I still don’t understand why Hampton decided to go after Cowell and Jonathan now.”
Misha sat down at the table next to an open laptop. “I think I found the answer. The two names you sent me—the students who had been on the dig?—are both dead. They died under mysterious circumstances in the past year. One in Pennsylvania and the other in Milwaukee.”
“But they weren’t part of this!” Watson protested.
Misha continued. “Hear me out. I don’t think Hampton knew which of the people on the dig were involved. You told us Cowell said a prayer to make Hampton and the Pavel demon forget you were in the tent. But it doesn’t mean they forgot why they were there in the first place—to get this key.
“If the artifact Hampton and the Pavel got from Cowell was not the real key, they would need to start over. They might have recently come to the conclusion someone at the dig took the real key. I don’t think Hampton zeroed in on Cowell and Jonathan specifically. I think he was systematically going through the list of dig participants to find out who had taken the key.”
Watson scowled. “Shit. Now what?”
“We stop this any way we can,” I said.
“Do you have a plan, Kyle?” Dalton asked.
“I think it’s time for me to go to church.”
Chapter 34
I looked cautiously up at the painted ceiling filled with cherubs. I had been inside the church for a while now and had not been smote yet…or was the word smited? Or smitten? Dalton and I waited in the back vestibule while parishioners filed past Father Brown on their way out.
When the crowd dispersed, he motioned for us to follow him into the back. “
Do you have news regarding David?”
“We found something David was working on which needs translation. I understand you are a linguist and might be able to help us with it.”
“Yes. Do you have it with you?”
I handed him the copy Jean Luc had made of both the excerpt and Cowell’s translations.
“Is this related to his murder?”
“We believe so, yes. But we’ve been unable to interpret it. David translated some of it, so we thought it might be a type of ancient religious dialect.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
“Thank you. And Father, would you please keep this to yourself for the time being?”
He nodded. I could tell he wanted to ask more, but resisted. I hoped to spare him from the truth if I could.
We drove to the office, since Misha didn’t want us coming to the safe house any more than necessary, in case we picked up another tail. Dalton dropped me off out front and went to park. Since it was Sunday, the office was officially closed, but Jean Luc was in the back room working on his laptop when I unlocked the door.
“How did it go?” he asked.
“Father Brown is going to work on the translation for us.”
“Did you tell him the truth?”
“No, I’ll tell him only if necessary. For all he knows, he’s translating some type of apocalyptic religious text.”
Jean Luc closed his laptop. “That makes sense.”
I stood for a second, trying to decide how to broach the question which had been bugging me since yesterday.
Before I said anything, he quirked his head to the side and looked at me quizzically. “Is something wrong?”
I sat down across from him. “Nothing. With everything that’s happened with Watson, we haven’t had time to talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Last night, how did you know we were in trouble?”
Jean Luc hesitated, as if choosing his words carefully. “When a vampire bites a human, there are sometimes different outcomes. We often will form a connection with the human we bite. With you, I could feel you were in trouble.”