by Joel Jenkins
He opened his eyes….and was back in his room.
6
“When Jazemara was six, we left Belgium for Paris,” Marya Dracula related as she put down her empty coffee cup. “I wanted her to have a broad education; to be familiar with various world cultures and such. Paris was such a cosmopolitan atmosphere.”
Ravenwood nodded as Jazzy made a face to let her mother know for the millionth time how much she did not like her own name. It was so old fashioned. Meanwhile, Sterling sat on the opposite sofa, awaiting any further instructions. His hastily put-together repast has been well picked over by their lovely guest and now Marya was finishing the story of their ordeal.
“It truly is a wonderfully city,” Ravenwood concurred. “I was happy to learn it had not suffered any great damage from the war.”
“Oh, no, it is very much the center of the new bohemian movement,” Marya continued. “What with artists and poets from around Europe gathering there to create a brand renaissance.” She sighed. “The very thing to attract those who dwell in the shadows.
“You see, it was there that we were approached by agents of the Imperial Vampire Court. Although I had vague memories of my father having mentioned we were not the only ones of our kind, his words had long since faded from my thoughts and in my naiveté at being cured, I foolishly ignored the possibilities that other such….creatures still walked amongst the dark alleys of world.
“You can imagine my surprise when I was visited one night by two gentlemen in fancy clothing identifying themselves as vampires sent by this so-called Court to contact me in regards to Jazemara’s lineage and her supposed destiny.”
“How so?” Ravenwood started to get up, his own cup empty. Sterling, ever watchful, jumped to his feet, took the mug and refilled it without spilling a drop.
“Thank you, Sterling.” The butler nodded and returned to his place on the long sofa.
“They want me to be their new Queen of the Vampires,” Jazzy blurted out, seeing the pause in her mother’s explanation. “All because I’m Dracula’s granddaughter.”
“Jazemara, please do not interrupt me.”
“Sorry. But it’s true.”
“Yes, my dear. That was the purpose of their visit.” Marya looked at Ravenwood, her green eyes imploring him to understand her fears. “Somehow this group of elite vampires had learned of Jazemara’s birth and saw it as some kind of a sign—that she should become their queen.”
“But she isn’t even a vampire?” Sterling said caught up in the story. “Ah…is she?”
He turned his gaze to Jazzy who immediately stuck out her tongue at him.
“Of course not, Mr. Sterling. Jazemara was conceived in true, pure love. A love so powerful it cleansed my own soul and she has never once exhibited the slightest hint of that foul tainting.”
“Then for her to assume this role she would have to be turned,” Ravenwood finished for Marya.
“Something that will never happen as long as I live,” Marya’s words were hard edged. “Knowing how precarious our position was, in a strange city with no real allies, I lied and told them their proposal was something I needed time to consider…that maybe, instead of Jazemara, I could once again join their ranks and assume that role.
“My words seemed to placate them and they departed saying they would return within a week for my answer. I realized our only recourse was to leave Paris and that very night I packed what few belongings we had and we fled.”
“Where did you go?”
“England. It was but a short journey across the channel and once there, we took up residency in a small hamlet on the coast of Wales far from the major populace centers such as London or Manchester. I prayed we had successfully eluded them and for the next few years we did. But they are relentless, if nothing else, and eventually tracked us down. Once again we fled. This time across the ocean to Canada where we lived until a few months ago.”
“Where they found you again.” Ravenwood found the vampires’ obsession formidable indeed. If they were willing to chase half way around the world for Marya and her daughter, what could possibly stop them?
“Yes. They attacked us one evening as I was picking her up from a school dance. I was just barely able to fend them off long enough for us to reach the train station and book passage south. That was three days ago, Ravenwood. We haven’t stopped running since.”
“Then,” said a very soft voice, “perhaps it is time you did so, dear lady.”
All eyes turned to the open doorway where the old man in the gray clothing stood, his arms folded casually behind his back. Sterling nearly fell off the sofa, so rare were the times when the Nameless One ventured outside his room.
Ravenwood had almost the same reaction, rising to his feet and greeting his revered mentor. “Father. Let me introduce you to our guests; the Countess Marya Dracula and her daughter, Jazemara.”
The Nameless One bowed slightly and then grinned at the teenage girl. “I trust your mother will forgive me,” he said. “But I too like Jazzy much better.”
Having put them at ease, the Nameless One turned to the butler. “It has been a long night. Could I possibly trouble you for a cup of herbal tea?”
“I suppose I can find something in the pantry.” Sterling rose with a huff and exited the room.
Marya, sensing his ire, turned to Ravenwood who merely shrugged. “Cats and dogs, they are like this all the time.”
“My intention was not to annoy your servant, my son. But rather, I believe I have the answer to the countess’ situation. One that will effectively end the threat of the Vampire Court to her and Jazzy forever.”
“How could you do that?” Marya asked surprised by the old man’s claim.
“Well, in two ways, dear lady. The first is to effectively eliminate the present threat to you here in this place.”
“And the second?”
“To deliver you and Mistress Jazzy to a place no evil can ever find you again.”
6
Inspector Horatio Stagg marched up and down the sidewalk in front of the abandoned waterfront warehouse like a frustrated marionette on strings. He was a short, chunky man with deep set eyes and reminded people of a human bulldog with his brown derby and rumpled corduroy suit of the same color. His officers respected him as a by-the-book honest cop who never shirked his duties. Inspector Stagg would never ask any of them to do anything he would not do himself.
Which was why twelve of them, in their dark blue uniforms, were gathered together in front of four parked radio cars awaiting his orders. Waiting to learn why they had been ordered to this river dockside as a glaring yellow sunrise splashed across the skies behind them. There was a predawn chill in the air signifying that autumn wasn’t too far off. All around them were stevedores arriving for work to unload the giant ships waiting at anchor to divest themselves of their various cargoes.
Stagg and his men had arrived fifteen minutes earlier as directed by Ravenwood. Although the inspector was a skeptic and didn’t believe in all the supernatural mumbo-jumbo that was Ravenwood’s stock and trade, he couldn’t deny the man had helped him on several occasions when certain cases involved bizarre, unexplained phenomena. In his cop’s heart, he knew it was all a con, tricks to pull the wool over gullible civilians. But not him, no sirree. Horatio Stagg knew better.
Which only infuriated him more. Here he was with his men wasting time all because of a midnight phone call from Ravenwood requesting his help. When Stagg had asked for specifics, the eccentric investigator had replied vaguely about some nest of monsters threatening the city. Monsters! Really!
Stagg started to reach into his jacket pocket to grab a handful of roasted peanuts from the paper bag he always carried when the sound of a sports car turned his attention to the corner. Ravenwood’s sleek black Alfa Romeo Spider Corsa appeared and speeded to where the police vehicles were parked. It came to a smooth stop and Stagg hurried over as the engine died and Ravenwood, looking tired, climbed out. At the same time a tall, st
riking woman emerged from the passenger side wearing a hooded cloak. Giving her a cursory glimpse, the veteran cop greeted the Stepson of Mystery in his usual manner.
“Alright, fancy pants, what the hell is going on that necessitated you dragging me and my men out here at the bloody crack of dawn?”
“Good morning to you as well, Inspector,” Ravenwood maintained a straight face as he turned and walked to the rear of his automobile. “I am most grateful for your willingness to meet us here. Allow me to open the trunk and I’ll explain what we are all doing here.”
As Ravenwood unlocked the boot and raised the cover, Marya came to stand by his side. In the trunk was a huge canvas bag, which the occult detective opened wide for Stagg to inspect.
In it were dozens of wooden stakes, each a foot long, four heavy mallets, some machetes and several silver flasks filled with Holy Water.
“What the hell is all this for?” Stagg asked picking up one of the big mallets and several stakes. “You hunting vampires now?”
Despite himself, Ravenwood smiled. “Inspector Stagg, you never fail to astound me with your honed deductive skills. That is exactly what we are here for.” He moved around the inspector and pointed to the warehouse. “We will find them hidden inside. Most likely resting in their coffins now that the sun has risen. It is the time they are the most vulnerable.”
Stagg stood with his mouth agape. By now several of his men had come closer and heard Ravenwood’s declaration. All their eyes were on their leader.
Stagg blinked and then started to laugh, tossing the mallet and stakes back into the trunk. “Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Ravenwood, you’ve finally gone completely bonkers. Vampires!! God…if that ain’t the funniest thing…”
Marya stepped up behind the ranting copper and grabbed him by the back of the neck. With one hand she lifted him off his feet. He yelled in surprise, his feet kicking in the air, his eyes frantically trying to look back at who it was holding him so easily.
“You think vampires are amusing?” Marya snarled. “I assure you, sir, they are not. They are real predators who will inflict great harm unless you aid us in destroying them here and now.”
“Geezus…lady…put me down!”
Marya complied none too gently. Stagg stumbled and put out a hand to steady himself. Then, catching his breath, spun around to face the countess. “How the hell did you do that?”
“I was once a vampire. The strength it took to pick you up just now is but a small example of the powers I once possessed. Powers wielded by all the foul things hiding in that building at this very moment.
“Vampires are real, inspector. Ignore that and the horrors that will follow will be on your head.”
Horatio Stagg swallowed hard. As much as he was angry for being publicly humiliated in front of his men, the grim look in Marya’s eyes gave him pause. What if she and Ravenwood were telling the truth? A vampire scourge on Manhattan! A sick look came over his face. What other choice did he have? If Ravenwood was crazy, they’d break into the warehouse, find it empty and then he could lock him up, and the crazy strong dame, for any number of minor misdemeanors. On the other hand if they were legit…
“Alright,” he muttered, turning back to Ravenwood. “But if all this is some kind of hoax, I’ll lock you away so fast, you won’t know what hit you.”
“Fair enough, Inspector.” Ravenwood nodded towards the trunk. “Can we proceed now?”
Stagg pointed to two of the nearest policemen. “Carter and Monroe, you two grab that duffel bag inside the trunk and follow us. The rest of you draw your guns and be ready for anything.” At that the boys in blue unholstered their revolvers except for the two men assigned to carry the heavy canvas bag.
Seeing this, Ravenwood and Marya started up the cement steps leading to the platform and the twin sliding doors that opened into the warehouse. Stagg was immediately behind them, his own .38 clutched in his right hand. There was no lock of any kind on either door and the veteran detective pushed past Ravenwood, grabbed a wooden handle and pulled it sideways. It made very little noise as it slid away on steel rollers leaving them facing the darkened interior.
The harsh light of the new day fell over their shoulders, its presence a comforting element as they eyed the stygian blackness that awaited them inside the massive, empty building.
Not one to hesitate, Inspector Horatio Stagg marched forward into what appeared to be a wide-open space. The cement floor was covered with a thick layer of dust now being kicked up by his footfalls. There was a dim light from high over head and he looked up to see long, tall windows that had been covered by a thick green paint, still they could not completely blot out the outdoor light.
Ravenwood and Marya flanked him to either side, both moving just cautiously as their eyes gradually adjusted to the gloomy interior. The place reminded Stagg of an empty church being so vast and spread out. He would not have minded a few candles here and there. His shoes stepped on something brittle and he stopped to look down. Reaching into his coat pocket he pulled out a wooden match and lit it by scratching it with his thumbnail. Immediately the robust flame illuminated his torso.
“What?” Ravenwood turned to him.
“I’m stepping on something weird.” Stagg bent over slightly with the burning match and revealed the carcasses of dozens of dead rats and mice. “Sweet Jesus! What the hell?”
“Seems our friends were snacking,” Ravenwood suggested wryly.
Before the light burned out, one of the uniformed men behind them called out. “Over there, up ahead. Are those crates?”
The group moved forward until the shapes became familiar pieces of furniture; a few desks covered with paper litter and a half dozen wooden chairs fallen over. Stagg lit another match and was pleasantly surprised to find several candles scattered amidst the clutter on the desktops. He picked one up and hurriedly lit the wick tip before his match went out.
“Some of you guys light those other candles,” he directed.
Soon four candles were aglow and the visible area around them began to widen. Marya, whose eyes were the keenest, spotted what they were searching for beyond the abandoned office equipment. “Over there,” she said pointing, “along that back wall.”
Ravenwood and Stagg, who was still holding his candle, walked around the desks spreading the yellow glow even further; enough to recognize the cheap wooden coffins covering the floor before them.
“Holy crap!” Stagg gasped. “How many of them are there?” he asked while mentally trying to count.
“Eighteen,” Ravenwood replied. “There are eighteen of them, Inspector. I suggest we start from the closest to us and work our way to the wall. That way, if any of them become …active…we’ll be able to herd them in and cut off any means of escape they may have.”
“What the hell do you mean by…active?”
It was Marya who explained further. “They are not sleeping, inspector. The undead can never really sleep. They rest now, unable to face the rays of the sun. So, even though they are weakened and vulnerable, in such a darkened place they might still have enough strength to react; to fight. None of your men must hesitate to do what must be done. Do you understand me?”
“I think so, lady.” Stagg tilted his round derby back on his head. “But why don’t you and Ravenwood here demonstrate it for us. That way there won’t be any screw ups.”
“Very well,” Ravenwood agreed. By now officers Carter and Monroe had set the bag of instruments on one of the dirty desks. He went to it, rummaged through it and pulled out a mallet, several wooden stakes and a flask.
Returning to Marya, he handed her the silver flask while addressing Stagg. “Stay close to me with that candle.” Then he looked over the inspector’s shoulder at the anxious faces watching them. “You others grab tools and gather around, but not too closely and stay alert. This is going to be most unpleasant.”
With that he walked over to the nearest coffin and knelt down on one knee beside it. Stagg stood behind him holding up the cand
le while Marya took a spot at the top of the long box and uncapped the flask in her hand.
She looked down at Ravenwood. “Ready when you are.”
Without further preamble, the occult detective slammed the mallet upward along the side of the coffin catching the lip of the cover. It ripped up in one piece and fell to the floor opposite him. Inside was a female vampire dressed in moldy clothing and reeking of rotten meat, her colorless face smeared with pieces of vermin blood and gore.
Ravenwood leaned over and placed the sharpened tip of his wooden stake against her chest and began to raise the mallet over his head. Suddenly the vampire’s dull red eyes opened and she snarled at the sight of him. She began to rise up only to have Marya lean over and spill Holy Water onto her face. It sizzled upon contact and the undead creature screamed in pain, her clawed hands going to her damaged face.
“Ready when you are.”
It was all the diversion the Stepson of Mystery required as he slammed his hammer down with all his might and drove the stake into her heart. Blood bubbled up from the wound like a tiny geyser and the foul creature’s body convulsed violently. Her hands tried to pull at the offending steak at which point, Marya reached into her cloak and brought forth her butcher’s blade. With one powerful stroke she cleaved the vampire’s head off its neck. The creature stopped moving…in true death.
Ravenwood reached in, took hold of the now lifeless monster’s head by her hair and standing, held it aloft for all to see. “Make sure to remove their heads. It is the only sure way to guarantee they will never rise again.” He then tossed it away to land with a plop yards away.
At the exact same time several of the coffins began to rattle as if something inside them was moving.
“They know we are here,” Marya warned. “There is no time to waste.”
“Yah heard the lady,” Stagg growled. “Form up into pairs and get busy. All of you.” The nearest coppers stood transfixed, some still staring at the headless body with the stake in its chest. “NOW!!!” Bellowed Stagg. “What dah hell do you think this is; a picnic?”