Vampire Mafia: Santa Cruz
Page 8
He rapped on the wooden door and then stepped back as it sprung open. The girl’s parents, Dean and Betty Little, looked as if they hadn’t slept in days. Their clothes were wrinkled and the woman’s matted down hair badly needed a comb. She’d been nearly hysterical when he’d talked to her on the phone earlier.
Their daughter had never stayed away from home without calling, and both seemed to know he brought bad news. Seeing him, Betty burst into tears. Dean turned to comfort her while motioning Gant to enter their home. He went inside and indicated the couple should sit on the couch, then sat on the easy chair opposite them
”It’s not fair,” Betty sobbed. “Sarah is so young…too young,” she sobbed, burying her head in her husband’s arms.
“We found her car in the parking lot where she worked and there were definitely signs of a struggle,” Gant reported. “We found some blood at the scene and one of Sarah’s shoes along with her purse, ID, and some cash. We are officially ruling it an abduction.”
“What do you think the ch-chances are of finding her un…unharmed?” Dean attempted to ask, tears now welling in his eyes, his voice cracking as he spoke.
“I’m so sorry,” Gant said. “There have been a number of similar crimes in town over the last year and we don’t always have positive outcomes. But we are on top it and working around the clock to—”
“What did you say? A number of similar crimes?” the woman said, frowning. “Similar in what way?”
Gant cleared his throat wishing he was better at this, but no matter how many times he did it, something always went sideways. Parents wanted answers…even if there weren’t any to give. “There are always cases in which we look for similarities…” He hesitated, searching for the right words.
Betty Little jerked from her husband’s arms. “Similarities…to see if there’s a serial killer out there,” she finished for him. “That’s it, isn’t it? There are similar cases with more missing girls, aren’t there,” she said…a statement, not a question. “And there could be a serial rapist or killer out there.” Her voice rose on every word.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t say that.”
Anger blazed in the woman’s eyes, then her face puckered, as if she was going to burst into tears again. “But there are. Right? More missing girls. Some of them dead. And there are similarities in the cases.”
What the hell could he say? The department hasn’t alerted the public because we didn’t want mass city-wide panic? That would be even worse. “Many teenagers run away or go missing every year, Mrs. Little, and we do our best to find them. I’m so sorry that…”
“And the police department said nothing.”
“You bastards!” Betty spat out as she sprung to her feet, pointing at Gant like he was solely responsible “You bastards could have prevented this!” she screamed…a shrill cry of anguish rising up in volume and echoing out into the neighborhood.
***
Valentine, Stanic and Rachel drove back down Ocean Street near the old boardwalk. Together, they decided their first order of business was to find a hotel room and hide out for a while. They also agreed to find as inconspicuous a location as possible. Turning onto San Lorenzo Boulevard into a seedier part of town, Rachel spotted a place.
“How about that one over there?” She pointed to what looked like a deserted building, overgrown with bushy weeds.
The Sea Shore Motel was a total dive. It looked like it was built in the early 1970s, completely dilapidated and going unrepaired and unpainted for decades.
“This place has got to be a pay-by-the hour,” she said, smiling. “It’s perfect.”
The color scheme of the small motel was dirty brown with a flat chartreuse trim, and the entire structure was well chipped, stained and faded. The pool had no water, and even better, a thick layer what looked like greenish-black pond scum across the bottom.
“Well done love. She’s a peach,” Valentine confirmed.
They pulled into the parking lot and walked inside where an unshaven clerk was sitting behind the front desk. He was chewing tobacco and spitting into a large Taco Bell cup as they entered. He didn’t seem to notice them walk in as he was focused on a small TV set on the far side of the desk. He wore a dirty white tank top and a bright green John Deere Tractor cap pulled down low and off to the side. Fiery dragon tattoos sleeved both arms from wrist to shoulder and covered his neck and chest.
From behind a pair of dark sunglasses, and without bothering to look up, he finally said, “Help y’all?”
“Sure,” Stanic answered. “Just need a room for the night with two beds.”
The clerk turned and peered at them over the top of his sunglasses. Then he took a slow head to toe look at Rachel and nodded his approval. “Twenty-nine, ninety-nine a night,” he muttered. “That gonna be cash or credit?” he asked, his tone sounding more like an accusation than a question.
“Cash!” the three said in unison. Valentine paid the man and they left the office with the room key.
John Stanic retrieved the ancient parchment from the SUV and sat down on the hotel room’s worn-out couch, flipping through the pages of text. “It seems like a fairly simple ritual. I just hope we have the right amounts of…wait a minute.” Stanic glanced at Rachel and Valentine. “We’re going to need a large red pentagram drawn across the floor here,” he said, making a circular motion with his arms and then pointing at the motel’s dirty, matted carpet. “And a compass and a bottle of red wine!”
“Anything else, professor?” Rachel asked, the corners of her mouth curving into just a hint of a smile.
“Okay, doctor,” Valentine broke in. “We’ll need to go to your office and pick up that blood straight away while there’s still some daylight left.”
Valentine’s friends nodded their agreement. “But we have some extra errands to do. First we’re off to the hardware store for supplies and then a quick pop in to my apartment to retrieve some additional weapons and ammunition. We must be as prepared as possible,” he warned. “The FBI has confirmed a couple of different killing methods for a vampire, but a wooden stake through the heart is the most effective.”
Stanic and Rachel looked at each other, huge questions in their eyes. Valentine wished he could say something comforting, but there was nothing comforting about this situation.
Stanic swallowed hard. “Stakes? W-w-wooden stakes?”
“Don’t worry, mate, we’ll have the element of surprise on our side.” Valentine was trying to be optimistic, even though it was the last thing he was feeling.
“And the other ways to kill a vampire are…?” Rachel asked.
“Only decapitation or incineration.” Valentine shrugged. “And that’s all we know of at this time.”
“However, we do have some weapons at our disposal. We’ll have guns with silver bullets, of course, plus vials of holy water, and a silver crucifix—all blessed by a priest. The bullets will slow them down, but not kill them. The holy water only burns their skin superficially, and, finally, the crucifix blinds them. Only problem is…everything, unfortunately, is back at my apartment. But the more artillery we’ve got the better.”
“One other critical piece of information…” he said. “We believe that during the daylight hours, they have diminished strength and less control over their supernatural power. It’s very important to keep this in mind.” He hoped he was getting across how serious their situation was. “We’ll need to get our supplies together while we still have some daylight left. And if we want to be successful vampire hunters, we must avoid confronting them after nightfall at all costs.”
***
The three vampire hunters walked out of the motel room filled with gritty determination. They crossed the small parking lot and then jumped into the SUV. Nervous energy circulated though Stanic’s body as he turned the engine over. No one spoke as they sped down San Lorenzo Boulevard then turned right on
to Ocean Street. Stanic spotted a hardware store and screeched to a stop in the closest parking space. He exited the SUV with Valentine and Rachel close behind and together they entered the store and started searching for their supplies.
They opted for small, but strong, polished columns made from ash hardwood. Each was about a foot long, making them easier to transport and conceal. Next, they found three box-cutters and razor blades for sharpening the stakes. And, finally, they filled their cart with three small, but heavy, wooden mallets as well as a can of red paint, a brush, a case of small candles, a compass and a black iron kettle for mixing the potion.
As soon as they arrived back at the motel room, Stanic opened the can of red paint, dipped the brush in, and then painted a large pentagram on the carpet in the center of the floor. He was still unsure if he had translated the ancient text correctly, but time was not on their side. Five straight lines created the ancient symbol, which was encircled by a ring about ten feet in diameter. He used the compass to direct the top point of the powerful symbol toward magnetic north, just as the ancient text had instructed. Valentine and Rachel loaded the razor blades into the box cutters and began sharpening the ash columns into the finest points possible. When they were finished, Rachel gave each of them two stakes and one small mallet…and the three vampire hunters walked outside into the bright sunlight a few minutes after 4pm.
They got into the SUV, Valentine behind the wheel, and headed down Riverside Avenue, then turned right on Beach Street.
Rachel sat in the front inspecting the tip of the sharpest of her wooden stakes. “Yep,” she said with a creased brow and with a slow nod. “Can you say cardiac arrest? These things are seriously deadly.”
Stanic noticed the steely look in her eyes as she spoke and realized the profound impact the day was taking on her. She seemed stronger, more confident.
They turned right on Bay Street, followed by a quick left on Lighthouse Avenue toward Valentine’s apartment. As they approached the deserted complex, all looked quiet. A little too quiet, maybe.
Valentine drove past the apartment and made a right on the next street. He parked the SUV against the curb, pointing down a narrow alley that led behind a row of small houses. The tiny alley consisted of nothing more than a long dirt road. A scattering of pot holes, half filled with muddy water, littered the narrow passage. Each side of the alley was overgrown with shaggy overhanging trees and big green bushes spilled over the back fences of the property lines causing the alley to seem even smaller.
“My apartment is just through this corridor about two hundred yards down. We’ll make our way in through the alley behind the property…just in case,” Valentine explained as he started down the narrow passageway and took out the Glock that was riding in his shoulder harness.
Stanic pulled the Walther PK380 from his waistband, handing Valentine four of his remaining eight bullets. Also armed with their sharpened wooden stakes and mallets, the trio moved silently ahead, each staying close to the tree line, backs against the fences whenever possible. A light rain began to fall as they approached the rear of Valentine’s apartment complex.
Valentine slipped into a neighboring courtyard adjacent to his apartment building. Stanic watched as the agent climbed over a short fence, followed by Rachel. He followed close behind, landing with a muffled th-thumpnear a small row of hedges. As he did, he caught movement in the corner of his eye and froze…and spotting someone crouching in the bushes on one side of Valentine’s front door… a quick burst of adrenaline surged through his body, his heart pounded against his ribs. The Walther PK380 felt awkward and heavy in his sweating hand as he used it to point out the shape lurking in the darkness to his friends.
As they inched in closer, Valentine said, “That’s Renzo. One of Constantino’s thugs, head of security at the Stelino compound.”
The enormous man was bending down on one knee, facing the main entrance of the courtyard, gun drawn and trained on Valentine’s front door. They ducked behind a thick hedge that ran the length of the courtyard and Stanic kept his eyes locked on the man stalking the apartment. Valentine pulled back the sliding mechanism on the Glock 19, engaging the next round, then nodded and they began to move forward.
The air was eerily still and quiet…and Stanic had no idea what they were going to do or what was going to happen as they moved in closer.
He crept up next to Valentine, his last step coming down with an unnerving crunching sound that seemed to echo off the walls of the courtyard, shattering the silence. Damn! He glanced down at a few dry leaves and brittle twigs on the path.
Renzo jerked upright, eyes narrowing, his gaze shifting in their direction. A tight scowl transformed his oversized boyish face into that of an experienced warrior. He turned and raised his gun in their direction.
Valentine fired three shots before Renzo even had a chance to aim his weapon. Two met their mark and Renzo slumped into the thick foliage…out of sight.
***
The threesome hurried into Valentine’s apartment. Valentine pulled a large duffle bag out of the closet and set it in the middle of the living room. He then rolled up a long rug that lined the small apartment’s hallway. Underneath the carpet was a three-by-five-foot panel that lay flush across the hardwood. Valentine went to the kitchen and retrieved a bottle of wine and a thin screwdriver to pry open the hidden panel.
Rachel watched wide-eyed as he lifted the panel and revealed several guns with high-tech laser scopes, a box of bullets, a silver crucifix and two small bottles of holy water. He first picked up the laser-sighted pistols, handing one to Stanic and another to Rachel, and then placed the third silver-bullet-loaded pistol into the duffle bag.
“Stanic, be a good chap and lend a hand to your mate,” Valentine said. “If you would be so kind as to go into the back bedroom and retrieve three recon suits from the closet.” Valentine was speaking faster now with the commanding voice of an experienced field general. His FBI training and the field skills would be essential if they wanted to stay alive. “Rachel, there is a small suitcase in the hall closet. Be a love and find the case to stow the recon gear.”
When the two went off to do their job, Valentine got down on one knee and arranged the other weapons and the wine bottle in the duffle bag, then zipped it closed.
Feeling as if he’d overlooked something important, he surveyed the room. Nothing unusual. Still…a cold sweat flashed across his body as he waited for Rachel and Stanic. He craned his neck over his shoulder to look down the dark hallway that led to the back bedrooms.
Something’s not right, I can feel it…
A dark shadow rose on the living-room wall, growing larger and larger until it blocked most of the late afternoon sunlight...Valentine gazed back at the door where a tall muscle-bound figure was now framed. His thick arms were holding a large black cape up above his bloodshot eyes like a giant bat ready to take flight.
Nicoli.
The man let out a viper-like hiss, stretching his mouth wide, exposing long white fangs. His fiendish, demon-like face contorted into something almost disjointed.
Valentine realized he only had seconds to act…and all of his weapons were still inside the duffle bag. He reached for the zipper and pulled hard, but it didn’t budge. His hands were slick with sweat and the zipper slipped out of his grasp. He tried again, forcing it now, but only jamming it tighter.
Nicoli flew across the room like a flash of lightning, dove on top of Valentine and opened his jaws like a huge snake, poised and ready to strike, fangs fully exposed and dripping with thick strands of silvery saliva. His demonic eyes bore down on Valentine as if lusting for his blood. Nicoli held him down with one tree-branch-strong arm pressed against his throat, pinning him to the shag carpet as he arched his back like a coiled cobra. His strike was blink-of-an-eye fast, driving his razor-sharp fangs downward.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“These will do nicely.” He admired the gear. “I’ll load these if you want to check with Valentine to see if he needs anything else.”
Rachel shrugged and went back down the hall. As she approached the living room, she saw a huge bat-like form charge across the room and drive Valentine backward onto the floor. Then, the shape arched back…
With only seconds to react, Rachel raised her pistol, saw the laser’s small red dot appear on Nicoli’s face right below his left eye, and pulled the trigger. Crack! Crack! Nicoli flew back and fell to the floor as Valentine rolled away. Two silver bullets had found their mark.
Rachel froze, her jaw hanging open, gun dangling in her hand at her side. She couldn’t move…couldn’t breathe. She’d just shot a man...
***
Stanic was loading the recon gear into the small suitcase when he heard the shots. He charged into the living room as Nicoli thrashed back and forth on the carpet. He pulled one of the stakes from his waistband and walked to where Nicoli lay suffering and stood over him, the sharp wood column raised above his head. Nicoli rolled left, then back to his right. The impact of the silver bullet seemed to be wearing off and the man began to crawl toward the door…until he came across Stanic’s right foot planted directly in his path.
The stake came down hard, right through the center of Nicoli’s back, passing all the way through his chest, lodging into the shag carpet beneath him.
Nicoli’s body tensed, convulsing as he let out a high-pitched cry.
Goose bumps crawled across the back of Stanic’s neck as he stumbled backward.