The Vampire Files Anthology

by P. N. Elrod

“Thankfully, I do not. Shoe’s description was vivid, and I shall do my level best to forget even that much.” He slapped on more butter.

  The food smells didn’t agree with me, but thank God he was eating. He was alive to do it.

  Another slug of beer, and he set down the brown bottle, politely suppressing a belch. “Who would have thought such blood to be a curative? It’s like some patent concoction from the back page of a dime magazine, only it clearly works.”

  “And Kroun knew about it. I tried to find out more from him, but he wouldn’t talk.”

  “Doubtless he has a reason.”

  “We have to know if it’s going to have a permanent effect on you.”

  Escott seemed to be at a loss there. “Hopefully, your friend might be persuaded to part with information on that point. I am understandably curious.”

  “You sure you feel okay?”

  “Never better. Which disturbs me because I recall feeling damned rotten the last time I took stock.”

  “Anything else?”

  He caught my meaning. “Ah. Well. I’ve not exhibited any extranormal strength, my vision at night hasn’t improved, nor have I experienced any sanguinary cravings. My canines are their usual length, and mirrors still work for me.”

  I was relieved. “That covers it.”

  “Of course there was an alarming moment when I woke from a nap and found myself floating just a few inches short of the ceiling…”

  “Tell me that’s a joke.”

  “A poor one, to judge by the look on your face. Sorry.”

  Some of the starch went out of my spine. Then I couldn’t say anything, just sit in my cold sweat feeling sick and helpless. This was how I’d been before, and it had led me to put a gun to my head. I didn’t want to be like this.

  “What?” he asked, his gaze sharpening with concern.

  His trust in me was broken, maybe never to mend. He would always wonder if I’d do something stupid again. “I…I waited too long.”

  “For what?”

  “I didn’t know what you’d want. I couldn’t think.”

  “In regard to…?”

  “Trying to save you. Whether I should have tried a blood exchange so you might have a chance—”

  “Ah. Shoe told me about that as well, along with your reluctance to act.”

  “That’s what he saw.”

  “You made your point that it had only a slim chance of success. We all know that.”

  “I wasn’t sure he understood. And I couldn’t make the choice for you; he did.”

  “But Mr. Kroun stepped in.”

  “Yeah. A good thing. We might not be here.”

  That hung in the air for a moment. Escott had more beer, looking patient.

  “But I waited too long.”

  “Because you did not know my preference in regard to a choice between being dead or Undead?”

  “God forbid this ever happens again, but what do you want?”

  For the second time that night I saw a man suddenly unsure of himself, hesitating. “I have thought about it,” he finally admitted. “And thought and thought. I honestly don’t know.”

  “How can you not know?”

  “Some days it seems a good idea; youth, long life, strength, all the other advantages, those balanced by certain disadvantages to which one must adjust. But other days…it seems like the worst thing in the world. Your decision was originally based on wanting to be with the woman you loved.”

  And lost. Yes.

  “My circumstances are different. Whether I returned or not, either outcome would effectively remove me from my life as I know it now.”

  “You’re thinking of Vivian?” If she was a part of the decision, then he’d gotten pretty serious about her.

  “She’s a very intelligent, knowledgeable woman, but I shall risk underestimating her and judge that she would not be at ease knowing of such matters.”

  “That’s not fair to either of you. Just talk to her.”

  “Have you spoken to anyone in your family about your change?”

  He stumped me on that one. “They wouldn’t understand.”

  “My point exactly.”

  “You can’t make a choice based on how another might react to it.”

  “Of course I can. It’s done every day. Sometimes one stumbles in the process.”

  He was referring to my attempt at suicide. I’d gone into that with no regard for the harm it would bring to anyone else.

  “Things might change in the future,” he said. “For now, I just don’t know. If—God forbid—another similar situation falls upon you, all I can say is use your best common sense in regard to whatever circumstance you find yourself.”

  “That’s only if I have time to decide. What if you get hit by a truck or something?”

  “Then it is my fate to be hit by a truck. But in the meantime, I shall endeavor to avoid wandering into the street.”

  “And if the truck jumps up on the sidewalk?”

  Escott opened his mouth but hesitated again. He could read me easy, and saw that I was serious. An odd smile came and went on him, and he shifted a little. “All right, I’ll tell you this and you can believe it or not. The other night some part of me was aware of what was happening. I recall that much.”

  “Aware of…?”

  “That I was dying.”

  Oh, God.

  “Jack, let me assure you…it was all right. It really was.”

  This had to be a leftover from that time in Canada when all his friends had been murdered. Surviving that horror had changed him, made him careless about his own life in the years that followed. I’d thought he’d gotten over it, though. “There’s nothing all right about wanting to die.”

  “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”

  “It’s not about me.”

  “Nor is it about my wanting to die. Wanting was not a factor. I was simply aware that I was dying, and it did not trouble me. It was…not being forced upon me by the ill will of another, but just something that had come to happen.”

  “But my fault,” I said. “I’m the one who—”

  “Oh, don’t start, you sound just like Shoe.”

  “He’s right.”

  “No, he’s not. You and I sorted our credentials, and that’s the end of the matter. My going septic afterward was just bad luck. That sort of thing could happen anytime and come from a paper cut. I wish to hear no more about the business. Please.”

  “Okay,” I muttered.

  “Thank you. What I’m trying to say is that if you find yourself unable to offer your unique help to me, don’t be troubled too very much. I’m refusing to worry about it, though I will give more thought to the matter. For now—again—I just don’t know.”

  “You sure? That you’re not sure?”

  He shrugged. “Should I make a determination one way or another, I will tell you. I promise.”

  The way he said it told me the discussion was closed and only he could open it again.

  “Besides, Mr. Kroun’s unexpected hand in my recovery may have resolved things already. We need to question him. I thought he’d be along with you. Shoe had the idea you were looking after him.”

  “Kroun went for a walk. He’s not exactly leash-trained. I put him up at the house at first, but last night he disappeared into some bolt-hole of his own.”

  “Not in the literal sense?”

  “Hm?”

  “Bobbi mentioned his inability to vanish.” Escott raised a hand. “Please, she didn’t purposely break her silence about him. After Shoe told me what happened, I asked her to fill in the gaps.”

  “Kroun’s gonna love that.”

  “Secretive, is he?”

  “Like a safe.”

  “Well, he is among strangers, all of whom know how to remove him. When one is wholly helpless during the daylight hours, one must be careful.”

  “Yes, one must.”

  “I would like to meet Mr. Kroun and thank him. Is that likely to come
about?”

  “Oh, yeah, I just don’t know when. He’s up to something I can’t figure, and it’s got a stink to it.”

  “Indeed?”

  It was enough of an opening. Something shifted in the air between us, and we were suddenly back on another case again, same as ever. It was a conscious thing, and if a little forced for the effort, reassuring for being familiar.

  I told him everything I’d told Gordy, then what Gordy had given to me about Kroun. It didn’t take long, though it felt like hours before I ran out of words.

  Escott finished his bread and beer, digesting both along with my information. “That business with Sonny is something I can look into.”

  “You stay clear of it. Kroun wasn’t happy telling me the guy was his father.”

  “Yet he did. Why?”

  “Moment of weakness?”

  “I doubt that. It’s odd. No idea where he went afterward?”

  I shook my head. “He was plenty upset. Maybe he did just want to walk it off.”

  “His friends from New York will be less than pleased with you for not keeping track of him.”

  “They can take a flying leap, I’ve got my own row to hoe.”

  “Tomorrow I’ll see what I can turn up on them, especially Sonny.”

  “Charles…”

  “Be assured I shall be most circumspect. A phone call to the sanatarium while impersonating a physician should be enough, then I won’t have to go near the place.”

  “Good. You don’t want Kroun hearing you’ve been nosing around. He’s going to figure I talked to you anyway, but…”

  “Yes, yes, caution, absolutely. The directions to that cabin might prove helpful.”

  “He’s going to be touchy about it. Don’t go looking for trouble, okay?”

  “Very well.”

  “You’re not driving up there without me.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it. Word of honor.”

  While Escott sorted through his stack of mail, I transcribed the smudged shorthand on my shirt cuff to notepaper, making three copies. Kroun would want one.

  “Now, about the Alan Caine case—”

  “It’s over,” I said. “There is no case. I left a false lead for the cops, and they’re off and running.”

  “Something went wrong for you on it. It had to do with Hoyle’s death.”

  Escott was too sharp by half.

  “What went wrong doesn’t matter now,” I said. “I wasn’t thinking straight and wound up being stupid. You showed me just how stupid, and I nearly killed you. I can’t apologize enough for that.”

  “You don’t have to, old man. It’s past, my number was not called that night. I’ve miles to go before I sleep.”

  My gut gave a twist at that thought. He’d come too close.

  “Keep whatever it is to yourself if you must, I understand that. But I am still angry with you on Bobbi’s behalf.”

  I felt myself go red. It was shame. Out-and-out shame. It blazed through me, intense as fire. It was worse than when I’d shot myself. “I get you,” I whispered. “Never again. I swear on Bobbi’s life.”

  He grunted.

  “You gonna clobber me again?”

  “If I have to.”

  “You won’t have to.”

  “Are you going to tell her what you did?”

  I gaped in shock. “Hell, no!”

  He relaxed a bit. “I’m most relieved to hear it.”

  “She’s asked why we fought…I can’t tell her. She’d never be able to trust me again.”

  “Good instinct. It would only adversely taint her affection. What she doesn’t know won’t be a constant reproach to you and worry for her.”

  That told me how he was thinking. This was going to be a long road. “She’s going to keep asking, you know that.”

  “Tell her that I made you promise. Pretend I was the one in the wrong about something and began the fight. You’re only protecting my good reputation with her.”

  That was one hell of a favor. Too much of one. He’d done enough. “She’d never buy it. I can’t—”

  “You most certainly can and will. It worked tolerably well on Shoe.”

  The implications of that sank slowly into my thick skull. He’d put one over on Coldfield? I couldn’t see how Escott had gotten away with it, but if anyone could…“Really?”

  “Best to agree before I change my mind.”

  “Okay, okay!” I put my hands up, surrendering. “Is Shoe going to ease off being pissed at me?”

  Escott went somber. “I doubt it. Not for a long, long while. Whatever the circumstances that led up to this near disaster, and whatever the miraculous cure that averted it, he’s not going to cease blaming you.”

  I didn’t expect otherwise. But, damn, it was tough. I valued Coldfield’s friendship.

  “Just give him time, Jack.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  He glanced at his watch, shuffled the mail and food leavings to one side, and tapped his pipe empty. “Well, nothing here that cannot wait until the morrow. I’ll be glad to sleep in my own bed tonight.”

  “Uh—there’s one thing…” I told him about the break-in at the house. “It could be Kroun’s two buddies messing around. Until I know what’s going on, you should stay at Shoe’s hotel.”

  “Bloody hell. I don’t want some unknown thug dictating where I sleep.”

  “Me neither, but you’re settled in already, aren’t you?”

  “At Shoe’s quite forceful insistence.”

  “Go along with him. There’s no harm in it. He’ll feel better.”

  “Where will you doss down?”

  “I’ll be at Lady Crymsyn. If it looks safe. For all we know, it was just a regular burglar.”

  “You don’t believe that.”

  “Not these nights, no. Another thing—your Nash might not be home for a couple days. I’m having the steering wheel fixed.” I thought he’d be happier not knowing about the bloodstained upholstery. “You can call Derner at the Nightcrawler about it.”

  “Why, thank you. I’d not given it any thought.”

  Well, he had been sidetracked.

  A car door slammed down in the street. “I think Shoe’s back.”

  “Somewhat early. He’s giving me a ride over to see Vivian.”

  It occurred to me that Escott could stay with her for the night, but I kept quiet. How he conducted his big romance was his own beeswax. “You going to tell her any of what’s happened?”

  He gaped in shock. “Hell, no!”

  WHILE I stood quiet in the office’s back room, Escott locked up and went off with Coldfield. The lights were out, but enough glow came through the blinds to allow me to dial the Nightcrawler.

  Derner picked up on the first ring. “Yeah, what is it?”

  He must have been having a full evening, too. I let him know it was me and asked how things were going. Michael and Broder had come by and were down in the club. They wanted a word with me—or Kroun, who was keeping his head low in the office. Derner gave the phone to him.

  “Thought you’d be here by now. What’s the holdup?”

  “I had things to do. I still have things to do.”

  “You can kiss your girlfriend later. Come over. Quick. I’ll meet you on the street in the back.”

  It didn’t sound like an emergency, more like impatience. If so, then why wait for me? He could get a car and go off on his own easy enough. He damned well better not want to make an expedition up to that cabin. It was distant enough that we couldn’t manage a round-trip in one night, and I was not leaving town without seeing Bobbi again.

  GOOD thing Kroun waited outside, there was no parking anywhere close, including the alley behind the club. A delivery truck blocked the entry. Several large guys in dark coats (and probably up to no good) glared my way as I rolled by at a snail’s pace. Stuff was being dropped off or picked up—bodies or booze, I couldn’t tell what—business as usual for the Nightcrawler Club.

  Kroun emerged
from a shadow, stepped up on my running board, and opened the passenger door.

  “Keep moving,” he said before I could hit the brake.

  I kept moving, feeding more gas once he was inside and had pulled the door shut. Even he had to work hauling it to, because of the armor and thick glass. “What’s the deal?”

  “Just head west and watch the mirror.”

  “What’s got you spooked?”

  “Broder. I think he saw me. I ducked and got scarce, but you never know with him.”

  “Why not just hypnotize him?”

  Kroun didn’t answer.

  “Or maybe you tried once, and it didn’t work? Crazy people are immune. Is he crazy?”

  He thought that one over. “Single-minded. He’s Michael’s watchdog. Won’t work for anyone else.”

  “Nice pals you got. Just talk for a minute and get ’em off your back.”

  “I have nothing new to say and better things to do. Michael will see it differently and waste time for everyone.”

  Sounded reasonable. “Why am I here?”

  “I need you to drive while I figure the roads.”

  “Where’re we going?”

  “That mirror clear?”

  “Seems so.”

  “Make sure.”

  I made sure. Broder was the kind of mug one should always avoid.

  Kroun twisted around to watch for tails. His mood was considerably improved and more energetic, and I wondered why until an intake of breath tipped me to a faint trace of perfume clinging to his clothes.

  I got uncomfortable pretty fast and opened my mouth without thinking. “Is she all right?”

  “What?”

  “The girl you were just with. Is she all right?”

  “You followed me?” He was more surprised than anything.

  “I can smell her on you. Is she—”

  “She’s fine. Cripes, can’t a man have some privacy?”

  “How much did you take from her?”

  He didn’t reply, apparently overcome by sheer disbelief for the question. “What the hell—?”

  “Figure it out. The things Sonny said, the hints Michael dropped about you making trouble, and the other night you were harping at me about feeding from—”

  Kroun cut me off with one burst of gutter language and slammed the back of his hand against the door in frustration. I kept driving, ready to hit the brake in case he took a swing. Instead, he steamed a while, shaking his head, then barked a short laugh.