The Stein & Candle Detective Agency, Vol. 3: Red Reunion (The Stein & Candle Detective Agency #3) (28 page)

Weatherby did as he was told, diving down as I opened fire. My shots roared over his head, sinking into the Nosferatu and knocking them to the ground. A burst of fat .45s might not kill them, but it still ripped their undead flesh and put them down. My boots were by the couch, my knife still in them. I grabbed the blade and finished the vamps off.

I worked quickly, stabbing through their bullet-ridden bodies and pricking their hearts. They hissed and snarled as they turned to ash, the gray dust filling the carpet. It’d run up my cleaning bill. I didn’t mind.

I heard footsteps in the hall and two skeletons in purple suits appeared in the doorway, pistols raised. I gave them the rest of the magazine, shredding their expensive suits and busting their bones. They fell away without getting off a shot, and I ditched the Thompson. I moved under the couch, grabbing the shotgun I had stashed there.

Weatherby and I both knew what the skeletons in the purple glad rags meant – Wagner Stein as well as Dracula was sending his goons after us. “Christ,” I muttered. “How’d these bums get by security?”

“Magic, perhaps! Some t-teleportation spell?” Weatherby hurried to the door, stepping over the skeletons. “We’ve got to help our friends, Mort! We’ve got destroy these devils before something awful happens!” I tried to warn him, but he was already stepping into the hall. The kid was seeing red, and that made him blind to any danger.

I grabbed the shotgun and dashed after him, stepping into the hall. I saw a bunch of skeletons clustered around the door in the back, trading shots with my veteran buddies. I had no doubt that Dutch, Tiny and Elkins would prevail – but for the moment, they were pinned down and unable to help. Weatherby was running for the room next to ours, when another door creaked open and Evelyn Dearborn stepped out.

“Evelyn! Oh thank all the gods and devils!” Weatherby ran to her, a little color coming back into his pale face. I heard something moving in the hall behind me. I turned around, a sinking feeling coming into my chest as I raised the shotgun. The two kids didn’t even notice.

Evelyn wore a dark robe over her nightgown, and held Weatherby’s shoulders. “My father killed three skeletons, Weatherby,” she said quickly. “He’s resting up. There was something else too, which gave him much more trouble. I think we have to leave. Is your sister and her boyfriend and that dear little boy all right?”

I was going to check in on them, but a more pressing matter got my attention. I turned around to see what was clanking my way, raising my shotgun to fill it full of lead. I saw a suit of full armor coming toward me, steel rattling with each ponderous step. I had fought metal mugs like this in Wagner Stein’s tomb. They didn’t go down easy.

I fired the shotgun into the chest of the empty knight, racked the gun and fired again, but it kept coming. Two more armored suits followed, these ones armed with long pikes. The knight in the middle didn’t need no sword or spear. It ran toward me and grabbed the shotgun, metal fingers bending the barrel. Then it slugged me in the chest and I went down, a bomb blasting to life in my gut.

I felt the carpet on my back. Breathing suddenly became a full time job. I looked up at Weatherby and Evelyn. “R-run!” I wheezed. “Run!”

But they didn’t listen. Weatherby headed my way, Evelyn close behind. The kid reached into his smoking jacket, drawing out a small golden orb the size of a marble. It was some magic gewgaw that might shut down the living suits of armor. It might even have worked, but the poor kid never got a chance. As he reached over me, a hand in a dark sleeve shot out and grabbed his arm. Weatherby was thrown hard against the wall and sank to the floor.

I titled my head to see our attackers. Count Dracula and Viscount Wagner Stein stood there in the hallway, looking over Weatherby, Evelyn and me. Weatherby managed a gurgled cry before Dracula kicked him hard in the chest.

They were going to finish us both, but Wagner suddenly shook his head. “Wait. Let’s have a little fun with them first.” He took a step toward Evelyn. Weatherby and I both looked up at her, telling her to run. “Who is this delectable little morsel? Do you like her, Weatherby? She’s as lovely as your sister – and younger too.”

Evelyn raised her hands. “D-don’t—” she started. Dracula held back Weatherby and the knight put an armored boot on my chest, pinning me to the carpet. Wagner grabbed one of Evelyn’s long braids. He pulled her close to him, using his silver skull-tipped cane to prevent her escape. Weatherby screamed, an incoherent yelp of rage and pain. Dracula slugged him across the face.

Then, the door next to ours slammed open. Henry Wallace Baum stepped out, his eyes wide behind his spectacles. The kid wore his striped pajamas and a dark blue robe. He looked smaller than a mouse, like you could pick him and pocket him if you wanted to. But he saw Evelyn in trouble and his eyes got wide with terror and bravery.

“Don’t hurt her,” Henry Wallace said, his rage growing. “Don’t hurt Miss Dearborn!”

He lunged at Wagner Stein – and got a cane bashed against his chest for his trouble. Evelyn screamed. Henry Wallace crumpled to the ground. Wagner laughed at our misery. I knew the type. He was a sadist. He’d pull the legs off of spiders just to watch them squirm. Now we were the spider, and he was going to enjoy himself. He brought the cane down on Henry Wallace, striking the boy’s legs, arms and chest. Evelyn struggled to break his grip, but Wagner was just too strong.

“This is your champion, Weatherby? This is the army you’ve brought to stand against me?” Wagner asked, punctuating each word with a powerful strike. I didn’t know how much more Henry Wallace could take. “I am disappointed. He is even more pathetic than you. But I suppose I should be used to that.” He gave the cane a rest, and kicked Henry Wallace when he was down. “That’s why you shall be defeated, Weatherby. You and your entire generation. Because while you are well-meaning, and perhaps even a little brave, you are soft as mud.” He twisted the handle of his cane, revealing a long thin blade. “And I am hard as steel.”

But before he could hack poor Henry Wallace in half, we finally got a little luck. A blast of heavy machine gun fire came from the room down the hall. The skeletons were shot to bones, and Tiny stepped into the hall, swinging a Browning automatic rifle to face Wagner and Dracula. He let out a burst at the knight holding me down, riddling it with lead and reducing it to a clanking mass of busted metal.

Dracula knew the score. He and Wagner couldn’t stand against that much firepower, even with all the black magic and unholy power they possessed. “You fool!” he told Wagner. “We must fly!”

“But I’m not through with her!” Wagner pushed Evelyn toward Dracula. “Take her to the tower!” His skin started going indistinct, his face shifting like he was a malfunctioning movie. I had seen it before. The bastard was turning to smoke.

Bullets started burning through the air around them, but Dracula didn’t seem to notice. He grabbed Evelyn and pulled her close to him. He was gentle with her, and I could almost see why so many English dames had enjoyed having him visit them. He pounded down the hall, running to the open window. Weatherby stood up and limped after him. The kid only made it a few steps before collapsing.

Tiny, Elkins and Dutch ran down the hall. The two remaining knights moved to stop them. Dutch used his shotgun to blast the helmet off of one suit of armor, and Elkins’ rifle finished off the other. They helped me up and I turned around to see Dracula leaping through the window – carrying Evelyn with him. Wings of living shadow erupted from Dracula’s shoulders. They flapped leisurely, keeping him and Evelyn aloft. The girl didn’t even get a chance to scream.

It was quiet for a few seconds. Weatherby was sobbing. Henry Wallace wasn’t saying anything. I leaned against the wall, catching my breath and feeling my bruises and cuts. Another door slammed open, and Sly Baum ran into the hall and to his son. Without a word, he grabbed the crumpled body of his little boy and held him close.

Chad and Selena got into the hall too. Chad had a fat bruise on his forehead and claw marks on his neck, and Selena had a nasty cut on her arm, which she held tightly. Chad looked around in terror, spotting Henry Wallace. “Oh no,” he said. “Oh no. We should’ve helped. There was some skeleton trying to strangle me, and it took a while for Selena to smash it with a lamp. We should have been faster. We should have helped.”

Old Doc Dearborn was the last one to leave his room. He had a bad cut on his shoulder and a smoking revolver in his hand. His tired eyes scanned the hall. “Evelyn?” he asked. He looked up at me. “Mr. Candle, where is my daughter?” I couldn’t answer him.

Weatherby was a braver man than I. “They took her,” he cried. He stayed on the ground, tears streaming down his face. “I failed again. The ones I loved are destroyed, just like in Castle Stein and it’s my own fault!”

Selena hurried to her little brother. She swept him up in a fierce hug. “No,” she said. “That’s not true, Weatherby, and you know it. Mother and father’s deaths were not your fault. This was not your fault either. You can’t despair now. Evelyn is still alive and we can rescue her. We will rescue her.”  She squeezed his shoulder and kissed his forehead. “You have great courage and strength, Weatherby and your friends need you. It is time to show Wagner Stein that our family hasn’t gotten weaker – but has infinitely improved.”

That was all the pep talk Weatherby needed. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve and stood up. “We have to get Henry Wallace to a hospital immediately,” he said. “I know we have first aid kits, but the boy requires greater attentions than we can provide.” He nodded to me. “Mort, we’ll take him in our automobile. Mr. Baum, you had better accompany us.”

“And Evelyn?” Doc Dearborn asked. He had the same steely calm as Weatherby.

“She’s at the Knight Building. Wagner won’t do anything to her. He wants to make me watch, to antagonize me.” Weatherby shivered. “That’s his nature. At sunrise – in just an hour or two – when Dracula and the vampires are weaker, we’ll go and rescue her. You have my word, sir.”

Dearborn was skeptical. “How exactly are you planning to do that, son?”

I reached down and grabbed my fallen .45. I checked the clip and slammed it back in. “Simple,” I said. “Kill everything – living or undead – that gets in my way.”

Elkins laughed. “Now that sounds like a plan, Sarge.”

It certainly did. “I need you boys to get dressed and get ready. We’ll leave as soon as Sly, Weatherby and me get back from taking the kid to the hospital.” I reached into my room, grabbing my trench coat to hold off the night’s chill. “Tiny, you ought to manage the weapons. Make sure we’ve got enough ammunition to do what we’ve got to do.”

“You got it, Sarge. You drive careful now, you hear?” Tiny was staring at Henry Wallace. He didn’t like seeing a child hurt. Tiny was a gentle giant – until he got behind the trigger of a heavy machine gun. “We’ll be all loaded up by the time you get back.”

“Aces.” I stood next to Sly. I put my hand on his shoulder. “Come on, buddy,” I said. “Let’s get moving.”

He didn’t say anything. His eyes were wide and watery. We walked along together to the elevator, Sly holding Henry Wallace in his hands. The boy’s eyes fluttered open suddenly. “Papa?” he whispered, as we got into the elevator. “What happened? Did I save her… d-did I…” The boy trailed off.

“Don’t worry, sport,” Sly said. They were the first words he had said all night. “Everything’s gonna be just swell.”

The nearest hospital was a couple blocks away. Early morning traffic was just starting to fill the city, so I could run red lights and scream past the speed limit without fear of bumping into anyone. I put the Roadmaster through its paces and got to the hospital in record time. Some doctors came out to meet us and I had them bring a stretcher out for Henry Wallace. They got him inside and went to work.

After parking the auto, Sly, Weatherby and I went into the waiting room and sat around. I had half a pack of cigarettes and Weatherby paced around with his hands in his pockets. Sly just sat down with his hands on his knees, his eyes closed. I didn’t know if he was praying or just focusing on breathing in and out. We didn’t say a damn thing until the doc came with his diagnosis.

It wasn’t as bad as we feared. Henry Wallace had a busted leg, a broken arm, and a bunch of cracked ribs, not to mention a ton of bad bruising. But there was nothing broken that wouldn’t heal, given time and rest. The doctors were patching him up and making him comfortable. They figured he could go home in a week or so.

Sly bowed his head. “Thank Christ,” he whispered. “Thank Christ.” He vigorously shook the hand of the doctor, and nearly broke down and cried right there in the waiting room. When the doc left us, he slumped back down in his chair. “Mort,” he said. “Can I get a cigarette?”

I handed him one. “You want to stay here with your boy, Sly?” I asked. “I can have your things moved over from the room, if you’d like.”

He considered it for a few seconds. “No,” he finally said. “I’ll move here after the job is finished. Maybe I’ll drop off some of his books and comics before we go. But right now, I want to help to hurt the monsters that put my boy here, any way I can. You’re planning an attack on the Knight Building, and Wagner and Dracula, right? You might just need my assistance. I’d be happy to offer it. And as soon as it’s done, I’ll come back here and I won’t leave until he does.”