Blue Moon Investigations Ten Book Bundle

by steve higgs

  ‘Demedicus told me about it. He had a thing for me, I guess. It was obvious from the first time we met at the club. I got drunk and kissed him and after that, he was convinced we were meant to be together.' I was making notes hurriedly, but as she paused for breath I looked up and encouraged her to go on. ‘He came to me about a week ago and said that the Senior Council were drinking human blood and that he had got some for us both to drink. He brought it to me in a silver chalice and said he had overheard Ambrogio talking to the Senior Council members and telling them that drinking the blood of his victims would start the turn and that it would imbue them with extra strength and faster reactions. He was completely mad for the idea that we would gain superhuman strength and power by drinking it. I said that I didn’t want to. I had no idea it was really human blood. I thought it was all just make believe until the police confirmed they found human blood from the murder victims on his clothes.’

  ‘Hold on.’ I had found a bit that didn’t fit. ‘When I went to Demedicus he felt threatened and the first person he called was Obsidian. If Demedicus was infatuated with you why would he do that?’

  ‘Lots of the club members practice open relationships. They encourage sex between members. I was never up for it although Nigel often suggested we should. Since Demedicus was Nigel's acolyte I suppose I could have shagged them both any time I fancied,' she trailed off at that point. I suspected it was from running out of things to say rather than being distracted by thoughts of getting severely dicked. I asked a few more questions but felt there was little more to get from her and a pressing need to go over what I had learned to make sense of it. Angela left a few minutes later.

  A full twenty minutes had elapsed, during which I considered the conversation with Angela and reread my notes. Then, like getting an electric shock, I leaped from my chain when I suddenly remembered Poison. I picked up my phone to text Frank. I expected to hear that Poison had turned up ten minutes after we had last talked or had called in sick but before I could use the phone, I heard the door at the bottom of the stairs open and then several sets of heavy boots coming upwards.

  Seconds later, the door opened, and Vermont Wensdale invited himself in. One of his flunkies held the door open for him and then came through behind him and took up a flanking position to his right. Flunky number two was Stefan, whose name I remembered from the encounter in Frank's shop. He was last in and flanked his boss on the left side. It looked practiced. They looked aggressive. Threatening.

  I was still in front of my desk, so I sat on it, legs loose in front of me. I wanted to appear non-threatening, but I was no fool, so I made sure I had a strong position should I need to deal with… anything. All my limbs were free to move, and I had desk objects within easy reach should I need a weapon.

  They remained standing in front of me and Vermont was clearly about to start speaking when I cut him off. ‘Your stunt in the woods nearly got a lot of innocent people killed last night. Your stupid reward created a swarm of idiots that set fire to a building and people got hurt. My friends got hurt and you better have a damned good reason for being here.’ I felt like shouting but elected to keep my tone even as being the calm one generally gives you the upper hand.

  ‘Your involvement and thus your exposure to danger are of your own doing, Mr. Michaels. I warned you to stay out of this affair and you said that you would. Had I known a rank amateur was going to be so foolishly brave I would have made moves to stop you. You should have been honest about your intentions.' He was equally calm, almost good humoured.

  ‘Vermont, you are a fool on a fool errand. There is no vampire at the end of your quest. Your mob attacked a group of people that like to dress up and play make-believe. The nonsense you perpetuate creates an environment where other fools can play out their fantasies and, in this case, there is a fool killing people, draining their blood and then feeding the blood to equally deluded fools who believe they will gain from it.'

  ‘You want me to slap him, boss?’ asked flunky number one.

  I held Vermont’s gaze for a moment, partly because I didn’t want to acknowledge the flunky’s existence since, he was insignificant to these proceedings, and partly because I wanted to see whether Vermont would consider the question.

  ‘Not yet, Arthur,’ Vermont replied. I noted the name.

  ‘Mr. Michaels, you are neither sufficiently skilled nor well connected enough to have any impact on my hunt. I am only here to reinforce my warning to stay away from pursuing my quarry. You will most likely get yourself killed together with your friends and family. Should they accompany you, which I understand they did last night, will only expose themselves to the same danger.' Vermont's expression was passive. He was offering no threat and besides being a grade one nutter, he was almost likeable.

  That didn’t get him off the hook though. ‘Vermont your reward for information is irresponsible and has already resulted in people being hurt. There seems to be little I can do to make you stop your current course of action, but I will be continuing my investigation.’

  At my last comment, Arthur lunged. I had had no sense that he was about to. Usually you can see people plan to move because they tense their body, or their hands start to twitch, but he was motionless one moment and moving the next. Nevertheless, he had too much room to cross for me to not be ready by the time he arrived.

  He was a shade taller than me at perhaps six feet and one inch and a little heavier, although it looked like fat rather than muscle. He came at me in a leap, thrusting off his right leg trying to land a hard punch with his left fist.

  As I came off the desk, I swung my right arm around in an arc going out from my body and down which deflected his blow. Simultaneously I turned into his leap with my left elbow high and moving fast.

  As my elbow connected with his jaw, I knew I had got it right. He went instantly limp and rubbery, but I sensed Stefan push past his boss and come at me from the other side. He was far shorter and bulkier in contrast and the bulk looked more like muscle. I had my back to him delivering the blow to Arthur’s jaw and could not avoid the kick to my ribs. His heavy boot drove in on my left side which was left exposed by my high elbow. It folded me to my left and shunted me to my right. He could easily have followed that up with a blow that would have put me on the floor or could have swept my legs now that I was off balance, instead he hesitated momentarily which gave me a chance to find a balance point on my right foot. From there I span around to face him.

  His kick was being followed up belatedly with a haymaker punch that now passed harmlessly by my face. His momentum all behind the intended blow he was now off balance himself. I stepped forward onto the back of his right knee joint as his body stretched in front of me. That he would go down was inevitable but the check in motion caused his body to snap backward and his head flung itself all the way back exposing his neck which I duly punched. Hard.

  Three seconds and both were down. I sprang back to face Vermont, but he was still stood where he had been, just as impassive as ever. I dropped my hands back to my sides and stood up straight once more, breathing a little harder than before.

  ‘You do amuse me, Mr. Michaels. I shall pray that you don’t get killed on my watch. Come along, chaps,' he commanded. Then he turned and walked out the door, clearly believing that proceedings had been concluded.

  I sat back down on the edge of the desk. Stefan was lying on his back holding his throat and making gagging noises. Arthur looked a little dazed and was sitting a little awkwardly on the floor, leaning against a wall.

  Different options were fighting for dominance. Anger at being attacked dictated that I wanted to get in a few more hits but I also knew that the fight was well over and the right thing to do was help the wounded regardless of which side they had started out on. My better side won the argument, so I extended my hand to help Arthur off the floor.

  ‘Come on, big man. Let’s get you up.’ He looked up at me, frowned but took the offered hand and let me help him back into a standing positi
on. Together we then pulled Stefan off the floor and the two of them struggled out of my office, each one holding the other up.

  It was already a weird day.

  With Vermont and his flunkies gone I made tea and let my pulse calm for a few minutes then elected to sift emails from prospective clients and pull together my thoughts on Ambrogio, The Vampire murders and everything to do with them. Hopefully, I would find some sense if I ordered my thoughts and would be able to see my next step.

  First to my emails.

  Fifty-six in total since this morning but most of it was crap. I had one email from a Craiglowry@hotmail.co.uk who had seen a ghost ship in the Medway and wanted me to help him get a picture of it, another from oldiron@gmail.com who had a spectral dog in his junkyard and finally one which sounded vaguely promising from shaynes@yahoo.co.uk which was well written and signed by Susan Haynes. Her message explained that her husband had died recently, and she was now being haunted by his ghost.

  I printed her email off and stuck it on my to-do pile. The other two potential clients would have to wait, and I accepted that I might never get to them. I recognised once again that I needed to take on an assistant or partner. Potential customers were willing to contact me, so even if they were barmy, they did so knowing that my services would cost them money and therefore I was losing billable hours letting their emails go unanswered. Furthermore, I would suffer poor referencing from each of the people I did not get back to and risk creating the need for competition to spring up. I enjoyed being the only paranormal investigator in the book, the longer I could maintain that position the better.

  I wrote assistant on the board behind me in big letters so that I would see it every time I walked in and vowed to do something about it as soon as I had breathing space.

  Vampires. I thought to myself. Vampires, vampires, vampires. I focused on Angela Barclay and what she had revealed about the hidden movements of Obsidian and the upper tier of the Brotherhood. What did Obsidian know? He knew where he had taken the coffin and that made him the best person to speak to next. He was arrested last night. Was he still in custody?

  I flipped through my phone and called Amanda. She answered on the second ring. ‘Amanda it’s Tempest. Do you know if the vampire-wannabes from last night have been released yet?’

  ‘I don’t, but I can find out. Why?’

  ‘I just had a girl in here that was there last night but got away. Her boyfriend is Nigel Havers. He was arrested and is one of the club elders or whatever you want to call them. She claims he helped move their master’s coffin. Anyway, I think there may be some involvement with the murders, so you and I need to talk to him.’

  ‘Tell me why you think they are involved?’

  ‘If she is telling me the truth then Jim Butterworth stole the blood from the elders who were going to drink it as part of some twisted ritual to turn them into vampires. There may be a central figure here calling himself Ambrogio Silvano. I have no idea if that is his real name or not, but he could be the murderer and if so, he could be killing people with the full support of the upper tier of this club. I would consider it all utter tosh were it not for the dead bodies and that one of their members was found to have blood from Mrs. Hancock.'

  ‘Give me two minutes.’

  I sat back at my desk when she disconnected. What did I know? Asking myself that basic question and writing down facts, so that I could see them, was a tactic I learned to use long ago. It organised my thoughts. I grabbed an A4 pad and a pen and began to write.

  The Kent charter of The Brotherhood of the Dead believed that their Master Vampire had come to them and was going to turn them into true vampires

  The Kent vampires are paying Ambrogio a lot of money which makes this a profitable scam for him

  Ambrogio was real. I believe him to be a person that looks like a vampire from a book, but whatever he is the Brotherhood of the Dead think he is real and is doing things for him that are almost certainly illegal.

  Several people have been killed. I can’t tie Ambrogio or anyone else to the crimes yet.

  Blood from the second victim was found at Jim Butterworth’s house. He was not the killer of course, but if Angela was right then he had obtained the blood from the supply brought to the Brotherhood of the Dead by Ambrogio. This train of thought meant that Ambrogio had to be the serial killer the police were after.

  Ambrogio threatened my life and attacked my parents already

  Vermont Wensdale? Where did he fit in? He also believes Ambrogio to be a vampire.

  I snatched up the phone as it rang to break my concentration. The name on the screen was PC Hotstuff.

  ‘Amanda,’ I answered.

  ‘They were all released thirty minutes ago. Nothing to hold them for. Nothing to tie them to the murders and too many of them to hold anyway.’

  ‘Dammit!’

  ‘They have names and addresses for all of them, so I relayed the information about Nigel Havers without telling them where I got it and sent them to find him. With luck, they will pick him up at his house in no time.'

  That’s if he goes home. I had a feeling he would be going elsewhere to do his master’s bidding.

  ‘What about this Ambrogio character? What can you tell me about him?’

  I gave Amanda some brief details but said that it would probably be best if she came to me when she was able. She agreed to come over directly she was finished with what she was doing.

  Where is Poison? Tuesday, September 28th 1225hrs

  It was nearing lunchtime when yet again I remembered Poison. Then the phone rang. Doesn’t it always? I picked it up. It was Frank. ‘Hello, Frank. Is Poison there yet?’

  ‘No, Tempest, she isn’t. I shut the shop and went to her place and she hasn’t been home all night by the look of things.’

  I was getting a bad feeling about this.

  ‘Her flatmate let me in and went through her laundry with me to prove that her clothes from yesterday were not in the hamper or the washing machine. She had mud on her clothes from the fight at the clubhouse, Tempest. She isn't answering her phone, hasn't tweeted anything all day and no one has seen her. I am getting worried.'

  ‘So am I. Where are you now, Frank?’

  ‘I’m just leaving her place in Wainscott. I’ll be back at the shop in less than ten minutes.’

  ‘I’ll meet you there,’ I said and disconnected.

  Where was Poison? With an itchy feeling at the back of my skull, I clicked back onto my emails. No, no, no, no, no, no, no reverberated around my brain as I scrolled down to find the email I needed to read again.

  Mortal,

  How dare you attack my servants! I grow impatient with your continued existence. Your kin barely escaped last night but have merely prolonged their pointless lives. Soon you will understand the futility of your resistance. Until then, since you have taken followers from me, I will take one from you.

  Ambrogio

  The last sentence. I had just dismissed it. Now it made sense. This prick had taken Poison. I was certain of it.

  I moved towards the door to intercept Frank as he arrived but checked my motion before I got to there. Something Angela Barclay had said.

  Ambrogio had a crypt. If this guy was as crazy as he seemed and totally convinced that he was a vampire, then he might be at the crypt now. Could I appeal to Obsidian to reveal the location? Only one way to find out.

  I dialled the number for Angela Barclay.

  ‘Hello?'

  ‘Angela, it’s Tempest Michaels. I need you to give me Ambrogio’s phone number. One of my friends has been taken, a young girl and I think he knows where she might be.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Angela this is serious stuff. Give me Ambrogio’s number.’

  ‘I don’t have it. I’m not sure anyone does. Nigel said that you don’t contact Ambrogio, you wait for him to contact you.’ This was not what I wanted to hear. Was she protecting him? Or was this information genuine?

  I tried a different a
pproach. ‘Okay, then please give me Obsidian's phone number and address.'

  ‘Oh, no. He can’t be involved in anything like that,’ she told me matter-of-factly.

  ‘Angela, I need his number. If he has nothing to do with any of this then he can be eliminated as a suspect, but I need him to tell me where the crypt is.’

  I could almost hear her thinking. Inside I was screaming come on at full volume, but I waited for her to speak again. ‘I, I don’t know,’ she stammered. ‘This doesn’t feel right.’

  ‘Angela,’ I practically yelled down the phone. ‘People are dying. Your boyfriend is involved somehow and if you don’t give me his number, I will have the police at your place of work to drag the information out of you, dammit.’ I was getting a little impatient.

  Angela gave me the number and we disconnected. As I began typing in the number I had written down on my desk jotter, I heard the bottom door open and feet clomping up my stairs at speed. One set of feet though and light sounding.

  I paused before I dialled, and Frank's head popped around the doorframe.

  ‘Frank. I think Poison may have been taken.’ I showed him the email still on my screen.

  Frank leaned across the desk and peered through his glasses at the screen.

  ‘My God,’ was all he said.

  ‘If she hasn't been home all night, we can assume she was taken last night sometime after I left her and before she got home. Since no body has been found and he is messaging me, I am guessing that she is still alive.' Frank grimaced at the suggestion that she might not be okay. ‘Look, we don't know if Ambrogio is actually the killer yet anyway. He might just be some crazy vampire role-playing fool who Poison will beat the crap out of given half a chance. Or she might not have been taken at all. We could be jumping to conclusions. Have a seat or make a cup of tea. I have the number for Obsidian Dark, so I am going to appeal to his sense of self-preservation and get some answers.'

  The Horror of the Truth. Tuesday 28th September 1247hrs