by RJ Blain
“That was an unfortunate mistake, as I’ve since determined. I assumed the sacrifice needed to be sacrificed to wake the sleeper in my care.”
“Yeah, that didn’t work too well for you.”
“I need to know everything about him. Should you cooperate, I will allow you to live and dump you somewhere remote once my work is done. By the time you find your way back to civilization, I’ll be long gone, and I won’t care what you tell them.”
“You had someone hit me in the back of the head and dragged me off so you could ask me a few questions about the arrogant asshole?”
“Do you refer to the sleeper or the vampire?”
“The sleeper, unless you had someone else in the basement other than that poor bastard you’d murdered in the formaldehyde drum. Did you really have to stuff him in there? He’s an arrogant asshole. All bark and no bite, but the CDC gave me to him as a gift so he could figure out modern times.” I’d give Director Hammel just enough information he thought I was telling him the truth in order to preserve my life, and I’d sprinkle as many lies in as possible to make certain he fucked up and ruined whatever plan he meant to implement.
I was tired of people stepping on me.
Director Hammel hadn’t tied me up, a foolish oversight on his part. I rubbed the back of my head, which hurt enough my eyes watered. If I played weak and sickly, perhaps he’d keep me untied, which would elevate my chances of escape. Magic would have been useful, and I cursed myself for my failure to learn basic practitioner tricks. I could have drawn the runes in blood if needed. “Why did you stuff that poor man in the drum, anyway?”
My bastard of an ex-boss regarded me through narrowed eyes, and after a few moments of thought, he shrugged. “My plans changed when the sleeper didn’t awaken as planned. I needed to erase the evidence, and you were the cheapest life I had available at the time. I would have implicated the sacrifice in a theft of the equipment in the basement, and you would have been an unfortunate tragedy when the drum spilled. As he’d initially died from formaldehyde poisoning and preservation had begun immediately, it would have been easier to mask his actual time of death. Storing him in the drum was a matter of convenience.”
Well, I gave Director Hammel some credit; assuming he hadn’t waited too long between killing the poor man and sending me into the basement, the plan might’ve fooled an inexperienced forensics investigator. I doubted it would have tricked an experienced one—or anyone suspecting foul play.
Considering the CDC understood exactly how we operated, I found it implausible that any experienced investigator would have bought the ploy as the reality of the situation.
Industrial sized drums of formaldehyde didn’t just tip over even in an accident. They weighed too much. The amount of force required to knock one over should give any experienced investigator pause.
The plan might fool the ignorant who’d never worked in a funeral home before, and it might’ve fooled me, as I had no idea what formaldehyde truly did to a person after death, if the chemical would slow or completely halt putrefaction and the immediate biological process that occurred following death, or if magic could be used to isolate the actual time of death despite the use of the preservative. Even then, I would’ve found the whole thing to be suspicious, especially considering the drum’s weight. “I see.”
“Did the sleeper give you his name?”
I disliked I’d have to tell the bastard anything, but if I played at cooperating, I might not be the next poor bastard dumped into a drum of formaldehyde. “Yes, I know his name. It’s Eoghan Olin. According to him, he wakes up sometime during each emergence, and he gets really cranky when anyone screams. His initial reaction is to silence whomever is screaming. I’ve been told I’m fortunate he didn’t silence me permanently.” That bit fell into the lie category, but it sounded authentic enough to my ears. “I don’t know how old he is, but he’s been awake at least three emergences. The CDC is interested in him for research purposes, but beyond that, I have no real idea how far their interest goes. I was hired to teach him the ropes about modern society until he decides he gets bored and goes back to sleep, I guess.”
“What is the likelihood he will return to his slumber? Do you think he could be reawakened should he slumber?” Something about the director’s voice changed that caught my attention. “Has he mentioned anything about the dead to you?”
I grimaced at his questions, and I hoped he interpreted that as my general dislike of my situation. “Right now? He’s probably investigating every grocery store in the state. He finds them fascinating, and he has a tendency to want to explore everything.” Well, for at least the first five minutes, after which he would go find something else to investigate. “He does exactly what he wants, how he wants. It’s annoying.”
With a little luck, he’d believe my grimace was tied to a deep-set dislike of Eoghan, the biggest lie I’d told yet.
Apparently, either my ex-boss believed I was the type to resent someone like Eoghan, or I lied better than I thought, but Director Hammel considered my words, and after a long moment, he nodded. “How easy is it to break into your house at the moment?”
The change of subject startled me. “My house?”
“If that is where he is staying, that is the easiest place to capture him.”
Ah. Right. Of course. If the director didn’t mind killing people and using them as alibis to cover his activities, breaking into my home wouldn’t bother him at all. “The neighbors get mad and they all have guns, the dog’s an angel but will wake the neighborhood, and there’s a vampire who doesn’t have any need to sleep during the day around.” I had no idea if the stray was angelic, noisy, or aggressive, but maybe my lies would protect him. I had a good lock on my door thanks to my asshole parents, and it was made of nice painted steel. The windows would put up a decent fight unless they broke them, too. “It’s a pretty safe house.”
“Which neighbors would I have to worry about the most?”
I rolled my eyes. “All of them. Jeff Henrys lives across the street, and he don’t take kindly to that sort of thing.”
Even Director Hammel had the sense to be cautious when it came to the old coot and his gun collection. “So taking him at your house is likely not a wise idea.”
“No, it really wouldn’t be, and I haven’t been around him long enough to figure out his habits.”
“What habits does he have? Is he an early riser? What does he eat? Has he shown you any of his magic?”
Well, I could figure out what he’d do the instant he got word I’d been kidnapped; he’d set about paying Director Hammel a visit, and it would be a bloodbath, one Gordon would likely participate in. I’d help with the bloodbath part of things if opportunity allowed. I took a look around the moldy basement, lit by an old oil lamp. A crumbling stone staircase led up to a landing overhead. “Where are we, anyway?”
“This is the central mausoleum in the cemetery. I moved the previous resident so I could make better use of the building. This is the deepest wing. It’s interesting, isn’t it? It was built right after the beginning of this emergence, when the owners of these plots worried the dead would rise. Some dead did rise—but not in the way anyone anticipated. We expected something like a zombie.”
Director Hammel didn’t seem old enough to have been around when the emergence happened. “You were around during the emergence?”
“I look younger than I am. A consequence of magic. But yes, I was. I was young, though. I made it my goal to own this cemetery and the funeral home so I would have access to all of the vaults and their secrets. This is the important mausoleum, though. More importantly, the residents are important.”
“Except you moved them,” I muttered.
He laughed at me. “I moved them up a floor. They’ll be fine. I’ll put them back after my work here is done. You were always overly concerned about the departed. They’re dead. They don’t care what happens to their body. Now, about this Eoghan Olin. Tell me about his habits.”
“What was the nature of the outing?”
Great. I couldn’t just up and say the devil had popped in for a round at the mall. Even if I spoke the truth, the director wouldn’t believe me. “We went to the grocery store and the mall to pick out some necessities for him. His clothes weren’t precisely modern, but he’s prissy, so it needed to be suits. Everything has to be the best with him.”
“How can someone like him afford things like that?”
There was no way I’d reveal those secrets to Director Hammel. “I guess he has an inheritance or something—or the CDC is so thirsty for knowledge they’re footing the bills. I was given a bank card to use in his name and teach him how to use, and that’s all I care about.”
“I guess someone like you would know how to manage money quite well. You’ve always done a superb job any time I’ve put you in control of finances at the funeral home. In a way, I regret I had not better used you before it came to this.”
“You said you’d let me go after you got the information.”
“Not precisely, but yes, I will keep my word. Once I am finished with my business here, I will relocate you to somewhere more appropriate and leave you alive and for someone to find. I will even keep to the spirit of the agreement and make it so you have no trouble recovering from your time with me. That is more than you deserve, and it is the best offer you’re going to get. I recommend that you continue cooperating.”
“I am. Cooperating, that is.”
“You are. You were always smarter than your resume suggests. A pity, that. You never told me why you lack a diploma.”
Well, maybe the truth would convince the asshole to let me out alive—and make him more inclined to believe my lies. “My parents cleared out my college fund on vices, and I had to work to eat. I couldn’t finish school because I couldn’t make enough to pay the rent and eat. They keep trying to get more money out of me. I don’t know why, though. I don’t have any money to give them.”
The director’s expression soured. “I had thought there was something untoward with your family life, but I had not believed it to be that serious. Should things go to plan, you will find your fortunes changed. I had thought you might be doing some sort of vice because of your parents’ addiction, not that they had bankrupted you with their vices.”
“I smoked a cigarette every now and then,” I confessed. “But I didn’t drink or anything like that.”
“A forgivable enough vice for all I made harsh rules, especially considering those circumstances. I have learned my lesson. Next time, I will ask. I would not have been quite so strict with you about any smoking had I been aware of your familial situation.”
Listening to him, had I not known better—had I not witnessed death at his hands—I might have been tricked by his compassion. His words were worse than any of the lies the devil may have told me.
If the devil had lied to me at all, which I doubted.
The world was a weird place.
“It wasn’t work appropriate,” I said when the director waited in expectant silent.
“You are quite professional for your age,” he conceded. “It is still a pity that they ruined you.”
I fought my urge to sigh. “I’ve done my best.”
“That you have. What do you think this Eoghan values most over all?”
The question puzzled me, and I frowned. “I don’t know him well enough to answer that. His reputation is important to him, and he seems to take his debts seriously. He was very concerned about his caretaker’s death.”
“Do you think he will seek revenge?”
“I don’t know,” I lied. “He didn’t seem in a hurry to seek vengeance at least. He was busy trying to learn more about modern times. He seemed irritated at first, but then he turned his attention to other matters.”
“Would you say he’s distracted?”
“I’d sure say so.”
“Was he the one who healed your arm? You don’t have even a scar, and I’m aware the vampire tore you up to the point of death.”
I regarded my arm, which showed no sign of Gordon’s fangs having torn through my skin and gouged deep into the muscle. “The hospital did the work, and I guess the CDC helped cover the cost.”
“There would be no way your insurance would cover anything beyond the basics.”
Cheap bastard. As there wasn’t much I could say without getting on his bad side, I nodded.
“How old is this Eoghan?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. He didn’t say, and he didn’t like talking about much in front of me. I’m just there to answer questions about how the world works. He talks to the CDC about stuff like that. I’m a secretary now, basically.”
“Which is good work for you. The CDC tends to take care of the displaced, so even when I’ve finished my work, you’ll be transferred into a suitable position. You might even be hired by them permanently. That would work well for you. You’d be able to leave Sunset.”
I stilled at that, as he knew I’d dreamed of leaving the small town along with everyone else in my high school class. “I had wanted to go to New York,” I confessed.
“The city suits you, although I found the truck you were driving interesting. Who owns it?”
“Technically, I do, but Eoghan bought it so I can drive him around. Learning to drive is on his list, and he has a lot of demands. I just used the card the CDC gave me after they approved the purchase. I guess they wanted him to have the feeling of independence. He really likes that truck, so I hope you didn’t do anything to it.”
“The truck was untouched.”
Well, that was something.
I tried to relax, but my head hurt and my unease grew. “I don’t know if I’ve told you anything of use.”
“I can work with what you’ve given me. In a few hours, I will bring you out of here long enough to attend to your business. There’s a trailer cemetery staff use for the evening rounds, and we’ll only need to cut through one section of graves to get there. Don’t bother trying to escape. This place was built to keep the dead from leaving their graves. The living have no chance, not without the magic you lack. Just keep doing as you’re told, and you’ll see this through to the end.”
Director Hammel took the lamp with him and locked me in the dark.
Eleven
A gallon of ice cream could fix anything.
The absolute darkness freaked me out almost as much as my awareness I was trapped in a mausoleum in the heart of a town where the dead had a habit of getting up when left unattended. Then again, the dead had never done anything to hurt me, not even Gordon; I’d gone into that with some idea of what to expect, although I had underestimated how painful his bite would be. The dead often made decent company, like poor Old Man McGregor.
I hoped the townsfolk did the right thing. Then again, if they didn’t, I would.
Maybe he annoyed most people he crossed paths with, but he deserved better.
I expected the local police would brush off my report, as the old man had caused the coppers more than a few issues over the years. That bothered me, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it. I believed Eoghan’s claims about Old Man McGregor. He’d lived stubborn, and I saw no reason death would change him.
I shivered, and I wondered if the place had any ventilation, or if Director Hammel left me to face asphyxiation in the dark. All in all, my situation could be worse.
There could have been undead in the musty space with me, or there could have been an open drum of formaldehyde. Direct Hammel could have stuck around, too.
With nothing else to do, I wondered what Director Hammel wanted and why he thought Eoghan could help him—or more accurately, why Director Hammel thought Eoghan’s awakening might aid his cause. How could someone waking up from a long slumber help him? Magic could do just about anything. Magic struggled when it came to renewing someone’s organs, but muscles could be reknit, bones could be healed, and life could be preserved with the right talent and training. Magic’s limitations intrigued me.
Only death conquered all, and it did so with no regard to right, wrong, or those left behind. Death welcomed everyone.
No, death welcomed almost everyone. Eoghan dodged death’s embrace, and his tendency to sleep through the ages began to make a sickening amount of sense. Who wanted to watch the years go by without end?
Could Eoghan be one of the immortals incapable of receiving death’s blessing?
Most feared death. I feared the pain of dying, but death itself opened as many doors as it closed. What waited for me in my next life? If Eoghan’s belief I carried a new soul within me proved to be the truth, I gave myself decent odds of having a better life should I get a second chance.
Assuming I escaped with my life, I’d have to do some research on the nature of souls.
Time dragged, and by the time Director Hammel returned to the mausoleum, I longed for my bed, a honey rock, some time with a new book, and maybe a quart of ice cream. No, I’d go for an entire gallon. A gallon of ice cream could fix anything.
It’d been a long time since I’d had ice cream. Damn. I should’ve gotten some chocolate to go with my honey rocks when I’d gone on a grocery store bender.
“Come on, then,” he ordered. “We don’t have all night.”
My time on the floor hadn’t done my back, knees, or head any favors, and I lurched to my feet with a grimace. I limped the first few steps before straightening and correcting my stride. The stairs led to a miniature catacombs with rows upon rows of burial niches, most of which were opened and the bones lying at rest exposed to the open air. Decayed linens clung to the skeletons, and I gave it a few years before the mold and mildew clinging to everything would erode the dead to nothing.