Snowbirds of Prey

by Ward Parker

  Bernie scratched his head and swallowed hard. “Yeah, I guess.”

  She wondered if maybe he should go to the police. Protecting the residents from being revealed as vampires is one thing. Shielding a murderer from justice was another.

  “Look, Bernie, it’s up to you if you want to speak to the police or not. But the least I can do is cast a protection spell for you.”

  His face brightened. “That would be awesome!”

  So much for relaxing after work, she thought.

  She backed her car and swung around into the visitor lot. She returned to the guardhouse with her tote bag of witchcraft supplies: her oils, charms, essential herbs, and other ingredients, all stowed in Tupperware and plastic baggies. Bernie opened the door for her, but she didn’t go in. It was too confining for two in there.

  “I’m going to cast a protection spell. It will work in the guardhouse to make you safe when you’re inside. I don’t know how to do a protection spell that’s bound to you personally, so it won’t help you when you leave the guardhouse. But, hopefully, the amulet you’re wearing will do that. Now, get out and let me do my work.”

  “Just so you know,” Bernie said, “I’ve already tried putting cloves of garlic all over in there, but the cleaning crew always throws them out.”

  They traded places and she set her tote bag on Bernie’s desk and closed the door. A set of rosary beads with a crucifix hanging from the doorknob rattled. She sat in his chair. She was ready.

  Now, if she could only remember how to do this.

  She pulled out her notepad and flipped to the page where she had taken notes from a grimoire on casting the spell. It was basically a list of instructions and ingredients—a recipe for magick. She had been getting better at harnessing her power to perform magick mentally, such as moving objects with her mind. Conjuring an advanced spell that lasts for a long period of time without her attention, such as a protection spell, is something she still struggled with. Earth magick, enhancing her powers with those found in the earth via natural ingredients and incantations, enabled her to do it.

  She had been making great progress, but she still had a lot of work to do.

  Cinnamon sticks, fennel, bay leaves, garlic, ivy—these were all supposed to offer protection or ward off evil. Using her intuition, she added what felt like the right amount of each ingredient to a small copper bowl, pricked her finger with a sewing needle, and squeezed a drop of blood upon the mix. She stirred it all together and put the potpourri into a sandwich baggie which she placed on the window sill above the desk.

  She used chalk to draw a magick circle on the floor—a small one, due to the closet-like size of the room—then drew a pentagram within it, its points representing the five elements of earth, air, fire, water, and Spirit. Next, she went about the mental exercises required to close the circle, gather her energies within it, and cast the spell.

  She cleared her mind and focused on her intent: banning Schwartz or anyone from entering this structure to cause harm. She sat silently, going into an alpha mind-state, being in the zone. Then she began a slow, rhythmic rocking of her upper body to raise energy from the earth, focusing on the doorway and windows, visualizing them permanently sealed against harmful forces and—

  “You almost done?”

  Bernie was looking in through the opened door.

  “I’m a little nervous standing out there,” he said. “I’m too exposed.”

  Her concentration shattered, Missy stared at him before words came to her.

  “Do you mind? I’m trying to cast your spell.”

  “Sorry.” He shut the door.

  Jeez, where was I? She tried to clear her mind of the angry thoughts about how annoying Bernie was. It wasn’t easy. After doing some breathing exercises to relax, she once more reached a meditative state and began to recite the spell she had created:

  “Protect this space from evil deeds,” she intoned,

  “And give this man the peace he needs,

  “Expel all entities most foul,

  “Like—"

  The door opened.

  “Schwartz is out there,” Bernie said, breathless. “He’s watching me. Are you done yet?”

  “Yes. I’m done. I’m so friggin’ done.” She gathered up her things.

  “So it’s safe in here now?”

  “I have no idea. Let me know. I’ll be curious to hear.”

  19

  Wolves at the Door

  Agnes sat alone in the clubhouse’s card room overlooking the swimming pool. It was designed with floor-to-ceiling windows to maximize the natural light, not that the current residents appreciated it. Agnes knew the room would be empty because it was early in the night and most residents were out hunting or waiting in line at the Blood Bus which had just arrived.

  The large, red, bus-style RV was the kind that showed up in shopping center parking lots or at public events. A banner promised free movie tickets if you donated a pint. After stocking up on the wholesome blood of generous humanitarians, the bus crew would park at a warehouse, killing time until sunset. Then it would head to the beach and pull into Squid Tower, attracting residents like kids running to an ice cream truck.

  Henrietta rolled into the room on her mobility scooter. She was Agnes’ child, meaning Agnes had turned her into a vampire. It happened in Brooklyn, back in 1974, a time of hunger in the nest, and Henrietta had a leg disability making her easier for Agnes to catch.

  Henrietta brought two bags of blood from the bus for their supper. She warmed them in the microwave in the nearby kitchen area, piercing each one with a sippy straw before rolling over to her maker.

  “I got us O-Positive tonight,” she said as they each sipped their dinner.

  “Was it collected at the strip mall with the Thai restaurant?” Agnes asked.

  “Oh yes, you must be right. I detect hints of tamarind and ginger.”

  “Delicious. So let’s get down to business,” Agnes said. “Do you have anything to report?”

  Henrietta was not on the condo association board, but as the community’s most prolific busybody, she always had valuable gossip to share. She was Agnes’ eyes and ears. And the community’s undisputed authority on who was shtupping whom.

  “Leonard Schwartz is on the warpath,” Henrietta replied.

  “Isn’t he always? Who is the target of his wrath this time?”

  “You.”

  “What did I do now? He wants to be president, I know. But my term isn’t up until the end of the year.”

  “He wants you removed through a recall vote. He blames you for the scrutiny we’ve been getting since the mayor’s daughter was killed. He says you haven’t done enough to protect us.”

  “What can I do?” Agnes asked, as her annoyance heated up. “What can anyone do?”

  “Well, for one, he thinks you’re too chummy with the werewolves next door. He thinks one of them killed the girl and tried to make it look like we did it. And he believes they’re cooperating with the police.”

  “He’s entitled to his theory, but needs to leave us out of it.”

  “He says we should go to war with the werewolves.”

  “A vampire-werewolf war? That would be catastrophic.”

  “Oh Agnes, dear,” Henrietta said, patting her friend on the arm. “You’ve been reading too many urban fantasy novels. Schwartz means our lawyer should go to war with theirs. Hit them with a big lawsuit over the swain they’re not irrigating properly. Threaten even more lawsuits. Basically, intimidate with litigation.”

  “In my day, ‘war’ meant swords and flaming arrows.”

  “You have to adapt to the times, Agnes.”

  “I know. But every century it just gets harder.”

  “Well, I think Schwartz is trying to deflect our attention to the werewolves and away from himself,” Henrietta said. “The reason he’s being so difficult is—and don’t tell anyone—but I hear the police questioned him in the parking lot the other night.”

  �
�As well they should.”

  “And he’s not happy about it. He wants to know who gave his name to them.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t know,” Agnes said.

  Henrietta studied her face for a moment. “Well, if Schwartz drained those people, what do we do? We can’t let him be arrested. The police would find out awfully fast he’s a vampire, and then what will become of us?”

  Agnes hobbled over to the trash can and threw away her empty blood bag.

  “We have two choices,” she said. “We can look the other way when he’s arrested and hope the police believe he’s the only vampire here—hope they don’t sniff around and look for more.”

  No one spoke for a while.

  “I’ve heard,” Henrietta said in a low voice, “some police know about vampires—unofficially, that is. But if they’ve ever responded to a crime in some way involving a vampire, they’ve never taken one into custody. Somehow a vampire has never made it to a jail.”

  “I know. Extrajudicial killings. We can’t allow that to happen.”

  “Then what is our second choice?”

  “We can act preemptively and dispose of Schwartz ourselves so the police never get their hands on him,” Agnes said. “It would not be an easy decision to make.”

  “How would that make us better than the police?”

  “Because he is one of us. And if he has broken our code of justice, we have the right to mete out punishment. It’s for the greater good of our community.”

  “Okay. The murders will stop, but the police will still believe the killer is out there. What if they arrest an innocent member of our community?”

  “I’m still hoping Schwartz isn’t the killer and the police find out who it is,” Agnes said, standing with the aid of her four-footed quad cane. “I have a meeting with Harry Roarke about the accusations a werewolf committed the murders and drained the blood to implicate a vampire. Who knows where this trail will lead?”

  Harry Roarke looked like his anger was only barely contained. He glared at Agnes with a reddened face, which was a little unsettling since he was twice her size. She had her vampire strength, but it only went so far when your body was ninety-two years old and four-foot, eleven inches tall standing straight, and when was the last time she was able to stand straight?

  “Who is spreading rumors a werewolf is to blame for the killings?” he asked. “Schwartz?”

  “More people than him.”

  “Vampires aren’t people,” Roarke said.

  Agnes ignored the insult. Yes, vampires were people, though they were no longer human.

  “Our human staff members have made comments as well,” she said.

  “Well, it doesn’t make sense. When werewolves kill, we leave bodies mostly eaten or at least badly mauled. The body wouldn’t look the slightest bit like the ones that have been found. It really stretches logic to think a werewolf would kill a bunch of people in completely unnatural way for us, all just to frame a vampire.”

  “That’s not what’s being alleged,” Agnes said in a firm voice. “Someone living here, while in human form, could have killed those people. Why, I don’t know. Maybe it’s a psychopath. But this individual did it in a manner to deflect attention elsewhere.”

  “If he was in human form, why not a random human from anywhere? Why a werewolf?”

  “It was someone who knows vampires live in Squid Tower. Only a few humans know that and we’re keeping an eye on them. However, a lot of the werewolves living here know about us.”

  Harry grunted. “So what would you want me to do about this?”

  “Be vigilant. If you do nothing—if all of us do nothing—the police will intrude upon our lives and endanger us all. It’s a barely concealed secret that Seaweed Manor lets in all sorts of outsiders.”

  “We’re human beings who happen to have a disorder. But we still enjoy social lives, having parties, inviting guests.”

  They were meeting in a large common room in Building B of Seaweed Manor. Two fifty-something women played ping-pong on the other end of the room, drinking beer, and cursing like Visigoth warriors.

  “You have drug dealers in your community,” Agnes said, leaning toward him, her small fingers laced together on the table. “That’s a major security risk. It brings stupid humans here late at night who get high and end up dead on the beach.”

  “Then you, too, are one of the vampires spreading the rumors blaming werewolves?”

  “I have no interest in rumors except when they involve matters that endanger my community. And endanger yours, too. Why do you tolerate drug dealers?”

  Roarke sighed. “It’s complicated. Our people have always been about tolerance and inclusiveness. We’re not a bunch of scolds who judge others.”

  “Surely your bylaws allow you to kick out residents who break the law?”

  “Which would include almost all of us. Yeah, drug dealing is bad, but half our residents are their customers. Plus, we have smugglers, tax cheats, fraudsters, alimony delinquents, bail-skippers, witness protection program members—you name it,” he said. “Why are you looking at me like that? Vampires sure as hell aren’t angels, either.”

  “This conversation isn’t going the way I had hoped. We need to work together, Harry. If the murderer lives in either of our communities, we need to find out and take action before the police do.”

  “Fine. Are you doing anything about Schwartz?”

  “We’ve put him under surveillance every night, ever since the mayor’s daughter was murdered.”

  “Really?” he sounded impressed.

  “Yes, though we should have started much sooner. We have a couple of residents who are retired law enforcement and military, so they know what they’re doing. I help them out myself sometimes.”

  Roarke didn’t hide his smirk at the last part, but he did promise to keep a close watch on, and hopefully discourage, the drug dealing. He also promised to order the gate guards to keep lists of all visitors, an area in which they were notoriously lax.

  Agnes didn’t mention that her helping out with surveillance also included keeping an eye on the beach and on Seaweed Manor. She didn’t trust the werewolves to police themselves. And with her little-old-lady appearance, she could wander about without attracting attention.

  In fact, after she left the meeting with Roarke, she walked with the aid of her quad cane down the breezeway of every floor of the two buildings looking for anything suspicious. Several apparent visitors came and went from condos. She was dismayed by how little privacy the complex had. The following evening would be a full moon. How would the residents shifting into werewolf form keep from being observed?

  After Building B, she explored A, which was easy since the lobby entrance was not locked. She walked the breezeways. And on the third floor she found one of the problem residents: a condo with an open door and a line of people standing in front of it.

  She listened with her vampire hearing, which wasn’t as keen as that enjoyed by a vampire in a thirty-year-old’s body, but was way better than a typical human’s.

  “I heard he has Reboot. He better not run out before it’s my turn.”

  “He’s the only dealer in the county who has it.”

  The two people were a man and woman, young adults, a bit scruffy looking. She guessed they may have flunked out of one of South Florida’s many drug rehabilitation centers. Agnes hid in the shadows at the end of the hall and waited. Vampires are great at hiding, especially if you’re less than five feet tall and weigh under 100 pounds.

  The young man emerged from the condo first and lingered nearby. The people waiting in line eyed him hungrily. One asked if the dealer still had Reboot and the man replied that there was plenty. Soon the young woman exited and headed toward the elevator. The young man caught up with her.

  “Hey, want to do a little Reboot with me on the beach?” he asked. “It’s safer to have someone with you, you know, when you’re really tripping.”

  “I was going to take it at home with m
y boyfriend.”

  The young man wasn’t the least concerned about her boyfriend. “You can take it with him later, but can you hang out with me for just a little right now? I don’t want to do it alone. I love to take it at the beach. It’s such a peaceful rush.”

  The young woman agreed. Perhaps she didn’t have a boyfriend at home after all. While they waited for the elevator, Agnes hobbled carefully down the stairs, stopping at the ground floor to lean on her cane and rest. When she went outside, the young couple were walking over the dune crossover and down to the beach. She followed them only as far as the crest of the dunes and waited there.

  It was a beautiful night. The nearly full moon bathed the beach in soft light and glittered upon the lines of surf rolling in. A steady southeast breeze brought a rich saltwater smell and a faint suggestion of the island spices of the Bahamas. With her keen hearing, she listened over the rumbling of the waves as the young couple spoke inanities. She guessed they were lying on the sand just on the other side of the dunes, slightly to the south. Which put them close to Squid Tower. Soon, their voices became slurred and there were long stretches of silence, punctuated by giggles and soft moans of pleasure. How long did effects of this drug last? Agnes wondered.

  She sensed a presence nearby. A vampire. A dark figure stood on the Squid Tower dune crossover, roughly the same distance from the beach as she was. Dark eyes glowed as the vampire noticed her.

  A bright flash caught her eye. An orb of light like a giant firefly rose from the beach south of where the young couple was and flew by heading north. She had no idea what it was.

  “Whoa!” the young man said. “Did you see that? Totally intense!”

  “Was it a hallucination?” his new friend asked.

  “Dude, yeah! What else? I hope it happens again.”

  “Wait, if it was a hallucination, how come we both saw it?” the woman asked.

  “Dude, you’re messing with my head. Just go with it.”

  Agnes walked through the Seaweed Manor parking and cut through the opening in the border hedge to the Squid Tower property. She passed through the lobby and out to the dune crossover.