VAMPIRE MAN (The Librarian's Vampire Assistant Book 6)

by Mimi Jean Pamfiloff

  “Brandi?” Julia cackles into the air. “How should I know? I haven’t seen her since Houston.”

  Hmph! She wants to play hardball, does she? I leave the room and go to the closet. I open it to find Pike cowering with his hand over his ear. The serial killer simply stares at me with wide unblinking eyes. Probably in shock.

  “Oh, stop,” I sneer at Pike. “You behave as if it is the first time you’ve had a body party removed.”

  “It is.”

  “Well, then, you’ve been missing out.” I flash a glance over at Larry, who is all smiles. Looks like he just won a hand. Good for him. “I need matches,” I say to Pike.

  “Why?”

  “You know why.”

  “But-but we never light the pit,” he stutters. “It’s only a threat.”

  So he is not as stupid as he looks, which is pretty stupid. One ear and all that.

  “Well,” I say, “I am a vampire of actions, not words. And if Julia doesn’t tell me what I need to know, she’s going up in flames with your grimy, smelly bar.”

  “But I—”

  “Matches. Now,” I say, lowering my voice. I always found that getting quieter is much scarier than getting louder.

  “Next to the register.”

  I slam the door shut again. Pike starts pounding to let him out, pleading for me not to burn down his bar.

  Now, why would I do that? He captured Vanderhorst and started selling off his blood. Oddly, that really ticks me off. I am the only one allowed to torture him. He’s my dad. Or nemesis? Whatever. He’s family. Same thing.

  I go for the matches and return to the back room. Vanderhorst is slumped against the wall.

  “There’s a delicious snack in the closet,” I say. “Why don’t you refuel while I light the grill?”

  Vanderhorst looks at me, then at the pit. “I think we should wait for the royal guards to arrive. She needs to be brought to justice. The right way.”

  I raise a brow. “I think the lack of blood in your body is warping your head.”

  “You claim you’ve turned over a new leaf,” Vanderhorst says.

  “You are trying to tell me that you wouldn’t light that cretinous woman on fire if it meant finding Miriam?”

  “I, well—”

  “See. This is what I’m talking about, Vanderhorst.” I shake the book of matches at him. “You overthink things instead of acting. But your need to be the upstanding hero won’t protect those you love. It is action and willingness to be the ruthless cutthroat villain when called for.” I point to myself. “I do not fear that. Never have. And it is why you still have a wife. I’m willing to put everything on the line for those I care about. Consequences be damned.”

  “Such inspiring words from a man who wore pink pleather pants for a few decades and declared himself the official snack of the vampire nation. Didn’t you even try to trademark it?”

  That was actually pretty funny. I had immortal women lined up around the block for a taste. Of course, it helped that my lovemaking was extremely powerful.

  “Say all you want about my Mr. Nice days.” I raise my chin. “It won’t change the fact that I stepped up and took out your maker when he was about to slaughter Miriam. Meanwhile, you stood there frozen with thoughts of consequences.”

  I see his eyes grow darker, his lips get flatter. “I need to eat.” He leaves the back room. A few moments later I hear the sounds of a hungry vampire taking his fill of a delicious spicy meal. Nom, nom, nom…

  “All right, Julia.” I return to the edge of the pit. “Now or never. Where’s Brandi?” I strike a match and hold it over the pit.

  Her green eyes are wide with fear. “Nice, we’re old friends. Don’t you remember? Ten-for-one night? Those fun games we used to play in my bedroom—duck, duck, human?”

  I won’t lie. I did enjoy chasing the humans around the circle before drinking them, but that was the old me. The Nice me.

  “I remember everything, including your fangs in my neck.” I push my arm out further. “Last chance. Match is almost done, and I’m not about to burn my fingers.”

  “Okay. Okay! I’ll tell you what I know, but it’s not the information you’re looking for.”

  I blow out the match and toss it behind me on the floor. I pull off another match, ready to strike it. “I’m listening.”

  “Romanovich hired me to catch her. He knows I’m good at that—filling special requests.”

  “Why did he want her?” I ask.

  “Her parents are Hugo and Katarina Botellino.”

  I’m not sure what that’s supposed to mean.

  “You mean the Botellinos?” Vanderhorst appears at my side, wiping up the dribbles of red blood from the corners of his mouth. The front of his suit is covered in blood. He looks very refreshed.

  “Yes,” Julia replies.

  “Who are they?” I ask, feeling a heavy weight in my gut, like I am about to receive some very bad news.

  Vanderhorst replies, “They are rumored to be Keepers who broke away from the traditional doctrine and started their own, well, for lack of a better term, anti-vampire cult.”

  Keepers are the term for vampire hunters, but it is more involved than that. Before the Great War three centuries ago, Vanderhorst’s maker feared his side (which favored today’s civilized way of living peacefully hidden among humans) might lose. In secret, he trained a multitude of families how to hunt and kill vampires. He wanted humans to stand a fighting chance should the revolution fail.

  No one knows how many different families and humans he trained. Could have been hundreds or thousands. Not even the Keepers were told. He figured it was best to leave their numbers and identities a secret even from each other, in case a Keeper was ever captured.

  Centuries later, after a great victory, Vanderhorst’s maker would come to regret allowing humans to be in charge of this world. Too destructive. Too addicted to instant gratification. Vampires are all about the long term since they plan to live forever. Quite the conservationists, I must say.

  Vanderhorst’s maker attempted to spark another revolution to undo the last three centuries of vampires living in the shadows, starting with going after the Keepers. He wanted vampires to rule the world. The coup ultimately failed, but no doubt his actions left a sour taste in the Keepers’ mouths. The ones who survived, anyway. The vampire who trained them turned on them.

  “Are you certain Brandi’s parents are Keepers?” I ask.

  “Yes,” says Vanderhorst. “But only because the Botellinos have been fairly vocal online about recruiting new members. They’re on our watchlist.”

  “They killed Romanovich’s entire bloodline!” Julia belts out from the pit. “At least that’s what he said. Making Brandi his slave was his revenge.”

  Brandi was branded to be his? I swallow down my rage. I always thought Julia marked her for herself. The man they call Nails would have treated Brandi far worse than Narcissismo treated me. And he likely would have flaunted it too, ensuring Brandi’s parents were aware of what he was doing to her daughter.

  I mean, do I know for certain that was his plan? No. But it is what I would do if I were an evil vampire hell-bent on revenge.

  “So does Nails have her?” I ask Julia.

  “Probably. But I told you, I haven’t seen or heard anything since Houston. I swear it. Now, will you let me out of here? For the sake of an old friend?”

  Nope. I strike the match, and Vanderhorst grabs my arm.

  “Don’t do it,” he says.

  “Five minutes ago she was auctioning your blood to a vicious leather-daddy softball team, and now you’re defending her?”

  “Not defending. The royal guards will be here any minute. Let them handle her and the barkeep. They’ll get a trial and be punished—the right way.”

  I hate that idea! Stupid! But perhaps he has a point. It is time to let go of my old tyrant ways, the Mr. Nice ways. “Very well, but I want your word she will not be let off easy.”

  “I promise,�
� says Vanderhorst.

  “Today’s your lucky day, Julia!” I call out. “You get to live.”

  “Don’t leave me here!” she yells. “Let me out!”

  I ignore her and exit the back room with Vanderhorst behind me, but as we pass the closet, I realize I have another loose thread. Liza.

  I go to the closet where Pike is now crammed inside with a dead limp body.

  I look at Vanderhorst to my side and quirk a brow. “Mr. By-the-Book, huh?”

  “What? That was a legal kill.” He shrugs innocently.

  I suppose he’s right. It’s lawful to drink pedos, murderers, and rapists, who are generally very spicy. In my defense, I was also spicy, but none of those. I was merely evil. All right, fine! I murdered a few people. And perhaps many handfuls of vampires. But they all had it coming.

  I turn my attention to Pike. “I am going to ask you one time only. Did you see a blonde in pink pajamas come through here earlier? She would have been traveling with a group of guards looking for Vanderhorst or my friend Brandi.”

  “No. I only saw him.” Pike glances at Vanderhorst. “I swear it.”

  “If you are lying, I will return and take off your other ear. And by ear, I mean your belly button followed by—by something you don’t need to survive but will cause you great public humiliation to lose.”

  Vanderhorst gives me a look.

  “I’m rusty, okay? I’ve been watching Sesame Street the last five years.”

  “Fair point,” Vanderhorst replies.

  “Pike, are you sure?” I ask.

  “Yes. Yes!”

  “All right. The king’s guards will be here shortly to free you.” I slam the door shut, feeling proud of myself. I didn’t dust him. I wanted to. I should have. But I didn’t. I turned over a new leaf today.

  Vanderhorst and I leave the Randy Unicorn. I stop just outside, feeling a niggling of doubt creeping into my stomach. “Are you sure we shouldn’t…?” I point back inside and make an explosion motion with my hands.

  “No. We will do this the right way.” Vanderhorst lifts his chin.

  “But I told Julia who you really are. I really should crush her sku—”

  “No,” Vanderhorst insists. “She will get what is coming to her, and no one will believe her anyway. She has no credibility in our world.”

  True. I nod in compliance. “So where do you think I will find Nails?” I ask.

  “My best guess is that he’s heading to the Botellinos’.”

  I give it some thought and agree. If I were a sadistic evil vampire out for revenge, I would take Brandi to her parents’ house, subdue the family, and then execute her right in front of them. I would then do away with everyone in some sort of torturous, maniacal way. If we’re talking Nails, he’ll be getting out his favorite spike. “Do you have the Botellinos’ address?”

  Vanderhorst frowns. “Not on me, no. But you are going to Cincinnati.”

  “Why?”

  “Nothing has changed, Nice. You must pay for your crimes.”

  Fucking Vanderhorst. “I saved you. I could have dusted you right there in that room and used what I know to overthrow Freddy.”

  “It does not erase what you did to Miriam, to me, to Stella. They are heartbroken. Did you know that? Did you!” He raises his voice. “Everyone adored you, and you screwed us.”

  The ache in my heart grows stronger. “I know what I did was not…the way of a man. It was underhanded and cruel. And I am not arguing with you; I should and will pay for my crimes, but I made a vow to protect Brandi. I must help her.”

  I know Vanderhorst better than I know anyone. His shrugged brows and crimped lips are a sign of reluctant surrender.

  I add, “I vow I will go straight to Cincinnati once I have found her.”

  “You expect me to trust you? You, Mr. Nice?”

  “I am not that man anymore. And if you want proof, then look at my actions today.”

  “Fine.” He growls. “I will give you this one chance to prove yourself, but if you do not return to Cincinnati in two days, I will send the guards after you myself. I will petition to revoke your right to a trial and have you entombed, as originally planned.”

  I am strangely honored. Vanderhorst is a man who’s vowed to destroy me as many times as I have him. That he is giving me his trust means something. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t let me down, Nice.”

  “Steviuus,” I correct. “Or Racker if you must. Mr. Sweet is also fine, but Mr. Nice is dead.”

  He stares for a long moment. “I want to believe that. But I will never call you Mr. Sweet. It is entirely preposterous.”

  “Then Steviuus.”

  He claps me on the shoulder, just like a father would to his son. “Make us proud, Steviuus.”

  I nod. And as I do, something to the side of the bar’s front door catches my eye. It is a trash can. Sticking out from under the lid is a swatch of hot pink satin fabric.

  I push Vanderhorst out of the way and throw the lid to the ground.

  I stare down into the silver metal container filled with a pile of dust and some pink fabric. I pluck the garment from the ashes and hold it up.

  No. No. No. It is Liza’s pajamas.

  The rage inside me is unlike anything I have ever known. She was good. She was kind. If I were capable of crying, I would. But I am an ancient, deadly vampire. We do not cry. We take revenge.

  “What is that?” Vanderhorst asks, looking at the dirty pink shirt.

  “They dusted my friend and the guards.” I shove Liza’s top at Vanderhorst. “Hold this.” I kick down the bar’s door and storm inside. I pull the book of matches from my pocket and go to the back room, where I light one up. “See you in hell.”

  I drop the match in the pit, and Julia screams. I do not bother to warn any of the patrons. If they are here, they are accomplices. They stood by and did nothing while Liza was murdered.

  I exit the building as it goes up in flames. I hold the door handle so no one can leave.

  Vanderhorst watches but doesn’t say a word. For once, he is not judging.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  I cannot believe Liza is gone. I only knew her a short time, but she was a friend who showed me another way. And that group of nasty, useless bloodsuckers took her life. Not fair that vampires like Larry Wiener Face, Pike the Pecker, and Julia the…the, well, whatever her handle was, should live on.

  The world is a far better place without them.

  As for Liza, I can only hope that she knows how much she will be missed.

  I sigh as the private jet approaches the airport near Springfield, Missouri, around four in the morning. Vanderhorst volunteered to accompany me, but I declined and accepted the help of a handful of guards instead. If anything happened to Vanderhorst, Miriam and Stella would be lost.

  “All right, men,” I say as the plane prepares for landing, “the Botellino compound may have booby traps around the perimeter. Cameras, too. We must move carefully while hurrying to beat the sunrise.” Vampires are weakened by the sun, but also the night will give us the best cover.

  I continue, “As you’re aware, we are unwelcome on their property. If Nails is already there, he has taken the family as prisoners, so that makes the situation more difficult. We have to rescue humans who may very well turn around and attempt to kill us.” Our first task is to get inside the compound to assess the situation. If all is well, I simply need to ensure Brandi is all right. We will then have to hunt down Nails. If he hasn’t attacked these people, he will.

  If they are prisoners, we will dust Nails and whoever else he’s brought along. I can only hope that Brandi and her family are all still alive. Nails never goes for the quick kill. Nails likes to drain them slowly. But this is about revenge for him.

  Just before dawn, we arrive to the compound in two SUVs we arranged to have waiting at the airport. The property is about forty minutes from the small airport, surrounded by farms. We only have satellite images to go by, but it appears the
re is a house with a large barn in the back and two other outbuildings. A chain-link fence surrounds the perimeter, and there is only one way in—the long dirt driveway leading to the front of house.

  I zip up the black hoodie one of the guards gave me. They are dressed in black, their faces covered. Each came armed with both real bullets and chocolate-covered ones. I do not need a weapon. I am one.

  I decide I’ll take the front of the property, using the driveway access, since I am the fastest. The team of guards will cut a hole in the fence and come around from the rear of the property. I will inspect the house. They will check out the other buildings. Once we assess, we will make our move.

  I stand in the dark near the mailbox and stare down the long dirt road leading to the house. The muggy morning air smells of manure and fertilizers. The night is still, and the animals are quiet. I hear nothing coming from the direction of the house.

  Spooky. Of course, I have been in far more dangerous situations, but this feels harrowing. I do not know what I will find here. Brandi and her family could be dead. And then what? What will I do?

  I never had the chance to tell her how I feel. Or kiss her. I should’ve done it that night at the charity ball. I should have danced with her until the sun came up, but no. I took Liza outside to talk her into turning me. Then Brandi saw us and assumed the worst—I’d broken my promise to tell Liza the truth, that I was attempting to seduce her.

  I can only hope I’ll get the chance to make things right. And kiss her. Fine, and make sweet, sweet love to her. The Mr. Sweet way.

  My phone vibrates in my jeans pocket. It’s the signal. Time to move. I whoosh out a breath and get to it, running straight down the road until I get to a large tree at the side of the house. I wait a moment so the others can traverse the terrain in the back. They will give the signal once they are in position.

  I wait. And I wait. And then I wait some more. But no signal.

  Well, that’s not good. I decide to check things out and head around the side of the house toward the barn out back. One of the men should be there now, preparing to enter.