The Mourning Woods - 03 (14 page)

* * *

Remembering a few of my outbursts from our last visit, Sally turned to all three of us before we entered. “One word:
behave
. Bill needs to show up to this summit alive, but that doesn’t mean there can’t be any
accidents
along the way, especially if any of you embarrass the living shit out of me,” she warned.

“So I take it that means no reenacting scenes from
The Walking Dead
?” asked Tom, referring to the zombies who most likely awaited us inside. That was one aspect of the undead life that never stopped surprising me. Zombies were real, but rather than lumbering across the countryside eating any hapless humans in their path, they essentially existed as clerical help for vampires. Go figure.

By way of an answer, Sally gave Tom a look that was full of enough daggers to impale a rhino. Then she turned and led the way inside.

It was pretty much how I remembered. Vampires have excellent night vision, so that means they tend to cheap out on the overhead lighting. The gloominess aside, though, the structure resembled nothing more threatening than any other office in corporate America. That being said, the cubicles that flanked us on either side were full of workers that weren’t much different from the beaten down souls you’d see in every company. They were just somewhat less alive...if only barely.

Sally’s warning all but forgotten, my roommates and I exchanged bemused glances with one another as we passed zombie after zombie performing mundane office tasks.

“Can you imagine being someone’s office drone for all of eternity?” I whispered to Ed.

“And you still wonder why Sheila quit?” he replied.

I gritted my teeth at that. Yeah, he had a point, but did he really need to bring her up
now
? I mean, I was just starting to enjoy myself. Great, now I’d have her on my mind for probably the entire trip to middle-of-fucking-nowhere Canada...just in time to get my face stomped in by the Boggy Creek monster and all his cousins.

I sighed, then noticed that Tom was harassing a zombie pushing a mail cart. My god, sometimes he is just like a fucking kid.

He was waving his hand in front of the office zombie and whispering, “Ooh, look at me. Tasty human right here. Yeah, I bet you’d like to munch on my yummy yummy brains.”

The zombie, in turn, was giving Tom a look that would’ve probably conveyed utter contempt, had half its face not been rotted off.

“Jesus Christ, Tom,” I hissed at him. “Stop screwing around.”

Tom turned his head and gave me a smirk. “Dude, chill. I’m just having a little fun. When am I ever going to get another chance to mess with a zom...OUCH! The fucker bit me!” Tom yelled, pulling his hand back and cradling it.

In response, the zombie gave a half-faced grin, raised up one arm and flipped Tom the finger...or part of one anyway.

I took a step forward, when I suddenly realized that all the sounds in the office had stopped. A quick look around confirmed that all eyes, living and otherwise, were turned in our direction. Make that
almost
all eyes. Sally had stopped walking, but she still faced away from us. Unfortunately, even in the dim light I could see that her hands were balled tightly into fists, so tight that blood was dripping between her fingers. Oh, crap.

I was split. On the one hand, Tom was now whimpering, “He bit me. I’m gonna turn into a zombie.” On the other, I could see Sally literally shaking with rage. I wasn’t sure which fire to put out first.

Fortunately, Ed was there to make that choice for me.

“Let me see,” he said to Tom. “Oh for God’s sake, you fucking pussy. He didn’t even break the skin.”

“But he bit me,” Tom again whined.

That decided it. I turned toward Sally, quickly trying to think of something to distract her from the pummeling she was no doubt contemplating. Before I could sputter some lame excuse, though, once again I was saved.

“My dearest Sally,” came a slick voice from the end of the hall, “you do realize we have a strict policy against bringing cattle to the office, don’t you?”

I turned in that direction, already knowing whom I would see. It was Colin, James’s would-be successor. Colin was...to put it mildly...a pompous prick. As far as I am aware, people like Colin exist for only two reasons: to kiss the ass of anyone who outranks them, and to be an absolute asshole to anyone who doesn’t.

All things considered, however, I was glad to see him. Sally and he apparently had history. What history that was, I didn’t know. She wouldn’t tell me, and I had a feeling that Colin would sooner demote himself down to janitor than talk to me. Regardless, there was a definite aura of dislike between them. For now that meant whatever venom Sally wanted to unleash upon me and my roommates, she’d most likely redirect at the well dressed vampire lackey before her.

“I’m surprised to see you here, Colin,” she replied. “I didn’t realize your choke chain reached this far. With James back, shouldn’t you be fetching him coffee or something?”

Colin tittered in response. “Sally, you do so amuse me with your lack of understanding for my station. Oh, well, it’s to be expected from one of your ‘standing,’ assuming you do stand, of course. Personally I wouldn’t be surprised to learn you performed all your duties on your back.”

Ooh, massive burn from Colin. I reached Sally just in time to see her eyes turning black. I put a hand on her shoulder and then stepped in front of her.

“Hey, Colin,” I said in my best cheerful voice. “Long time no see.”

“Freewill,” he spat back, as if the word tasted bad.

Cutting straight to the chase before an office brawl ensued, I said, “James is expecting us, I believe.”

He narrowed his eyes at me, but replied, “You’re correct, and he is not a vampire to be kept waiting. Please follow me, and do pick up after your
pets
. We have a standard to maintain here, after all.” With that, he turned on his heel and began walking.

I heard Sally utter a snarl behind me. I spun, looked her in the eye, and said, “One word:
behave
.” Before she could knock me through a wall, I gestured for Tom and Ed to hurry up. I then turned and began marching after Colin, Tom’s continued whimpering of, “I can’t believe he bit me,” following in my wake.

* * *

The last time I was here, James wasn’t around, so we got no further than Colin’s desk. James's outer office was the one place here that seemed to conform to my expectations for an undead lair. Whereas the rest of the building was a typical office in most ways, this area had a much more sinister feel to it. I had little doubt it was on purpose. When one has rank, one often wants others to know about it.

With the exception of a small waiting area, this part of the office looked as if it had been carved out of the rock around us. Considering we were underground, I realized that was likely the case. The tapping of our feet on the obsidian tiled floor echoed off the walls as we approached the double doors just beyond Colin’s desk.

“Holy...well, batcave, Batman,” Ed whispered behind me, taking in the surroundings.

“Tell me about it,” I commented.

“He’s expecting you,” Colin said with a sour grin from behind his desk. Now that he had gotten in a dig at Sally, he seemed content with dismissing us. He reached under his desk, pressed something, and the doors to James’s office clicked, letting us know they were unlocked.

“This should be good,” I whispered back to my friends. I could only imagine what kind of medieval torture chamber awaited us. I was expecting to find something worthy of a James Bond villain. Perhaps there’d even be a shark tank in which to dispose of his enemies. That would be so fucking awesome.

I really need to stop psyching myself out
, I thought once I had stepped through the doors. Whereas the outer chamber was decorated in early sixteenth century Vlad the Impaler, the inner sanctum couldn’t have been more of a contrast. It was like stepping into an archeology professor’s office. It was well lit with a fairly simple desk at one end. Shelves and cabinets lined the walls; all of them filled with a variety of knickknacks, most of which looked a lot older than I was - no doubt a testament to James’s nickname of the Wanderer. Off to one end, there was a coffee table and a well-worn, but comfortable looking, couch. Upon it sat James, a cup of espresso in his hands.

He stood as we entered.

“Sally, Dr. Death, a pleasure as always,” he said.

“James,” I replied as way of greeting. “These are my friends, Tom and Ed.”

“Ah yes,” he said, turning to them. “Dr. Death’s human friends. He’s told me all about you. Especially you,” he said to Tom. “You’re the one with the fetish for...what are they called...transforming something?”

“
Transformers
,” I clarified. Several months back, Tom had somehow imbued an action figure with a small portion of his life force, essentially turning it into a weapon against vampires, much like Peter Cushing might have used a cross in the old Dracula films. It had gotten broken during the course of that little adventure, something that Tom continued to remind me about.

“Fetish is such a strong word,” Tom replied, momentarily forgetting that he was talking to a six-hundred-year-old vampire, one who could kill him as easily as he could a gnat. “I prefer the term
collector
.”

“Kindly forgive my transgression,” James replied amicably enough. He was truly an odd duck amongst the older vampires I had met. Somehow, through all of his centuries of existence, he had managed to hold onto his sense of humor. Most others of our kind hadn’t mastered that feat. Hell, I doubt most of them had even tried.

The pleasantries aside, James walked to the door. He said to his assistant, “Colin, be a good chap and grab some coffee for our visitors. Perhaps some lunch too. Send one of the thralls out to a local eatery, would you?”

Having given his instructions, he closed the door, although not before I caught a glimpse of Colin’s furious expression. Heh, the fucker had just been sent on a food run. I was beginning to understand what Ed had been saying about Sheila. No matter what the station or setting, an assistant could become a glorified gofer at any given time.

James turned back toward us. “That’ll assure our privacy for a few minutes at least. Alas, despite the formidable construction outside of my office, the doors are pitifully inadequate at keeping sound from carrying.”

James pulled a few chairs from his desk over and we all sat.

“I trust the Draculas’ envoy has brought you up to speed?” he asked me.

“Yeah. Alex gave us the rundown with the Grendel,” I replied, using his word for them.

“I haven’t heard that term used in a while,” he said. “Alex, you said, correct?”

“Yeah, you know him right?”

“I’m afraid not. Sadly, even with my current standing, I am not privy to all of the First Coven’s inner thoughts.”

That was surprising to learn. Considering James was up for consideration to join their merry little bunch, you’d think they might be slightly less dickish toward him.