Vampires (4 page)

The alcohol. So much alcohol. Team Crow got dead drunk the way normal people had a single cocktail. The monthly bill for liquor consumed on the premises was over a thousand dollars. And that didn't even count the bar tabs Annabelle was forever driving around to pay off. The huge garage area was filled with Corvettes and four-wheel drives and motorcycles everyone was too drunk to drive home. After eight DWIs in two weeks, Jack had installed a taxi-home policy for everyone not going out with Cat (who drunk, could talk any cop out of his gun).

But it wasn't just the booze. They were none of them alcoholics. It was just all that overgrown energy. They terrorized the maid service, inevitably springing themselves on the poor women stark naked and dripping from the shower and offering to help. It was so hard to keep cooks they were finally forbidden to even enter the kitchen while the cook was on the property. If they wanted something they had to phone in and ask for it. The amount of food pleased and frightened the cooks at the same time. They were able to-consume astonishing amounts of food. Any kind of food. Junk food. Gourmet buffets. Munches. Anything. Everything.

They never got fat. None of them-except for Carl, of course-even got beer bellies. Every morning they would get up and work out rigorously, the sweat running salty past their grins. It was not that they were especially disciplined. They most certainly were not. They were... committed. They were faithful. And they were alone together. It wasn't just each one of them who worried about himself. If one couldn't spin his body around quick enough with that brutish wooden stake in his grip, then it might not be just him slashed from throat to thighs. It might be one of his mates. No. It would be one of his mates. Because there was, quite literally, no one else in the world to save them but them.

It was why, recalled Annabelle, Jack had forbidden wrestling matches. Which were always happening in the stairwells, for some reason. She supposed it was because those broad shoulders were always clipping past one another in a hurry and then one thing led to another and...

Jack wouldn't have it. They were already wrapped far too tightly to be adrenaline-bruising their only kin.

So instead they tore up the house. That time they decided to play indoor golf because of the rain.

She busied herself in front of the lounge mirror, thinking back and trying without success to keep the smile from her face. To be fair, Jack had not even been in town. He and Cat had gone up to San Francisco with Anthony to watch his old team beat the 49'ers. But that didn't mean she believed for one single instant Jack would have stopped them. Probably would have just sat there in that big chair of his and laughed and bet on the winner.

Indoor golf. She sighed. They had broken six windows. Three of them cut glass.

She paused and inspected her appearance before returning to the bar. She supposed she looked fine.

For what she was.

For what was left.

For what there was to look forward to.

I'm so tired, she thought again. And then she thought:

No. That's a lie: I'm frightened.

And then she thought: No. I'm both.

Both.

Jack! Hurry back. Hurry back to us and still be you!

Father Adam looked to his left, at the seventy-ish man sleeping across the aisle from him and said in his silent TV commentator's voice, There are, for your information, sir, over six hundred exorcisms officially performed in America each year. And to you, it's just something that made a great movie that may or may not have been true once but isn't now.

Adam's gaze slid across the aisle to Jack, dozing in front of him.

And this man, he continued, kills vampires for a living. How about that?

Adam sighed, resting his eyes on Crow a bit longer before turning and viewing the mountains of the western United States sweeping below.

I'm in a dream. But maybe not. This is real and this has been happening, bile flowing from the Beast, since the dawn of man and before. This isn't a dream.

He turned again to look at Jack Crow.

It's simply that this man is a movie. A walking, talking, bleeding, cussing, bigger-than-life bear of a man. He's a movie, just being alive.

But movies aren't real, are they? he asked himself.

Neither is the priesthood. Isn't that why you're here?

He started to ignore himself. But then he decided he no longer had to. He was here now and into it. He was no longer some lanky, dark-curled kid too pretty for his own good hiding Out from girls in seminary and from the meat-eaters' man's world in his black-and-white king's X uniform.

He looked again around the cabin. It wasn't the real world of this plane, perhaps. Of men striving to earn first-class seats or pilot's stripes. It wasn't the real world of men at all.

But it was the real world of man.

Of man and God.

And he, Adam the schoolyard trembler, had grown up and come here to fight for them both. At last.

To the last.

He slept.

I don't know who else to get, thought Jack Crow. And I'm tired of getting them. We need the best kind of person around. No one less will do.

But they will die. And that means I have to find the best men I know and condemn them to a certain violent end just because they're the best.

Shit.

And they always said yes. That was the worst part of it. The good ones, once they knew it was being done, had to be doing it.

So they did it and they died.

Doubleshit.

Oh, God! Please don't call us now! There's only four of us left and this kid-priest and one of 'em's a middle-aged woman and another is pushing sixty and fat and damn well not scared enough for me and another is the finest man I've ever known.

And, tripleshit, the last one is me.

Please, phone, don't ring!

The plane landed and Jack Crow shook himself hard and reminded himself that he was supposed to be a leader of some kind so: Rock and roll, goddammit! Off your butt and off this plane and here we go again! Come on!

Don't think about the phone.

They knew the priest was coming but they didn't know anything about him. Jack strode through the gate to Anna-belle with Adam close behind. He leaned down and kissed her and said, “Folks, this is Adam.”

“Father Adam,” Adam amended firmly. Team Crow exchanged rolled eyes.

“I'm her Royal Highness Annabelle.”

“Lord High-Muck-a-muck Carl Joplin.”

Adam blinked, stared at them. Cat, grinning, stepped forward and shook his hand.

“Pay no attention to that man behind the curtain,” said Cat. “I am the Great and Powerful Oz.”

And then they were all walking rapidly toward baggage claim without further explanation. Adam found himself offered Annabelle's arm. He took it and shut up and walked.

“I need a vampire,” began Carl.

Jack barely glanced at him. “Is it working?”

“It was working last night.”

Jack stopped. They all stopped and stared at Carl.

“Well, to tell the truth, I don't know what made it beep then.” They resumed walking. “But it should work,” Carl persisted. “And it's gotta be tested.”

“How does it work?” Jack wanted to know.

“You wouldn't understand it, Jack, and you know it.”

“Hmm. Possibly. Then how are we supposed to test it?”

“We ain't. I am.”

Jack sighed, shook his head. "Oh, great. Here we go again with your.

“Goddammit, Jack! There ain't anybody else!”

“How do you figure that?”

They bad reached the baggage claim area. They stopped. Carl took a deep breath and hitched up his pants. He began counting off fingers.

"Well, Annabelle can't do it 'cause she watches the soaps during the day. You're supposed to be guarding my ass while I'm doing it. Cat..

“I could do it,” Cat offered with a sly grin.

Carl gave him a dirty look. “What do you know about the electromagnetic spectrum?”

“I'm for it.”

“What do you know about EEGs? Brain waves?” Cat frowned. “Is this a surfing question?”

Carl snarled. “As I was saying: Annabelle is out, you and Cat have your own little trick to do. That leaves me.” He paused, stepped up to Jack. His face was dead serious. “Look, Jack. You'll be able to operate it after I get it right. But I must be there to twitch it until it's on.”

Jack stared at him but did not speak.

Carl grimaced. “I'm telling you straight.”

But Jack had never doubted that. All he could think of was: Here I go again. I'm going to have to risk you, too. Dammit, am I going to lose everyone?

He stepped closer to Annabelle and hugged her without realizing why.

“I'll think about it” was all he said, but it was already done and everyone but Adam knew it.

There was an awkward pause while they stood about. No bags appeared from the chute, though they heard the usual destructive noises from somewhere beneath them.

Cat's voice sparkled into the silence. He slapped Adam on the shoulder. “Don't know about you guys, but it's great to have a father, huh, folks?”

Adam smiled uncertainly in reply. Annabelle grinned widely.

“Now,” continued Cat. "If we only had a mother..

Annabelle looked offended. “What's wrong with me? Besides being far too young?”

“Well,” he replied, rubbing his jaw and eyeing her immaculately tasteful dove-gray pants suit, “now that we've got a priest and all for a father... For a mother we need someone a little less. . . slutty.”

Adam stared wide-eyed. But Annabelle only nodded soberly.

“I suppose you're right,” she replied thoughtfully.

Only then did Adam notice the grins around him.

But Cat was still talking. ..... nominate Davette for the job," he said with a gentle leer.

“Who's that?” Jack asked.

Carl growled, “Investigative journalism come to save the world from the scam of Vampires$ Inc. What else?”

“Or.. .” retorted Cat with a finger in the air. “Come to tell the world of our plight so we can get a little decent cooperation for a change. And I think that's it. She likes us, Carl”

“They all like us. So what.”

“You mean a reporter?” Adam asked. “That's what they mean,” Annabelle told them.

“You didn't talk to them, did you?” cried the priest. “All day yesterday,” Annabelle replied sweetly. "And

some of last night. Interviewed everybody but Jack.“ She paused. ”And now you, dear."

Adam looked flabbergasted. Frozen.

Again Team Crow exchanged rolled eyes.

Adam finally spoke. “You didn't tell them anything...? Did you?”

Cat smiled. “Not much really. Just what we do for a living, how we do it, who we've done it for, their names and how to get in touch with them to confirm it. . . that sort of thing.”

Adam looked even worse than before. He looked like he was about to explode. Finally, he did:

“How could you be so indiscreet? How could you. . . To actually tell her! What got into you? What possessed you to do such a thing?”

Cat regarded him calmly. “Well, I'll tell you, padre. It's what I always do with the press. Of course, she's gonna be back at the house this afternoon to talk to Jack. And then you can tell her I was only fooling.”

The luggage carousel grumbled, began to turn, spouted out a single suitcase. It was Adam's. He stared at it for a moment, then grabbed it up with a single jerk and began stalking away.

“Where are you going?” Carl wanted to know.

“To take off his collar,” replied Jack dryly.

Adam stopped, looked at Jack with surprise, then anger.“ That's right!” he snapped and continued on to the men's room.

Cat lit a cigarette. “It's just a guess, of course. But offhand, I'd say the Church policy on publicity hasn't changed much.”

Everybody laughed.

Jack lit his own cigarette and spoke: "Oh, he's not so bad. Poor kid's had that stuff drilled into him by the Man. Afraid we'll start some sort of panic and that'll start a witch hunt and on and on. .

“And on and on and on,” Carl finished for him. “Stupid fools. This deal could use a little panic. The vampires are there, goddammit!”

Jack looked at him. “Are you trying to convince me?”

Carl grinned about halfway. "Well... yeah. But that kid's a stupid punk if he thinks we're gonna do anything Rome says.~~

The rest of the bags began to appear. Cat stepped forward to get Jack's.

“Maybe so,” said Cat. “But unless that bag of his was empty, he's strong as an ox. See the way he grabbed it up?”

Jack smiled. “Oh, he's fit all right. I suspect he's actually been working out. Training to join the Vampire Quest.”

Annabelle beamed. “I like him.”

Jack smiled at her. “I do, too.”

Carl frowned. “He still made an ass of himself.”

Cat smiled brightly. “So who'd notice that around here?”

Carl snarled at him.

“So what about this reporter?” Jack asked. “Any good?”

“Well, she's gorgeous,” offered Cat.

“She's young,” added Annabelle. "Couldn't be over twenty-two.

“Who does she work for?” asked Jack.

“Nobody,” said Carl.

“Oh, Carl,” sighed Annabelle. "She's freelance. She thinks she can sell us to Texas Monthly.

“What's she doing in California?”

Cat shrugged. “She came to see us. Heard about us back home. She knows Jim Atkinson on the magazine.”

“Does she know he couldn't get his story about us printed?”

Cat smiled. “I told her. I don't think she believed me.”

Jack sighed. “Oh, great.”

“Did I mention she's beautiful?” asked Cat.

Jack looked at him seriously. “Gorgeous, I believe you said.”

“Oh, she's that, too. And weird-looking.”

Annabelle frowned. “Cherry Cat, how could you say that?” She turned to Jack. “She's a very nice-looking girl. Very polite. Very hard-working. I like her.”

“You like everybody,” growled Carl.

“I don't like you,” she pointed out.

“That's true.”

“What do you mean, weird-looking?” asked Jack.

Cat took a puff and thought a moment. “I don't know. Strange. I mean, she doesn't have a mohawk or anything. She just.. . Well, sometimes she looks like a princess, you know, all regal and pure.”