"Vampire Road Trip"
May. 27th, 2022 03:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dochermes"Vampire Road Trip"
6/22/- 6/24/2018
I.
There had only been a few brief screams from the shack. In the long silent hour that followed, Eben fidgeted behind the wheel. The family was cutting it awful close this time, he thought. Already, the sky to the east was looking paler. In the battered old Ford SUV with its rust around the rear wheel wells and its Grand Canyon bumper sticker, he drummed his fingers and grew increasingly nervous.
At forty-seven, Eben Caldwell seemed considerably older. The skin on his face and hands was leathery and sunburned, his longish dark hair was showing plentiful streaks of white lately. He still wore one of his old work shirts from the gas station, with the name tag ripped off; his pants were growing thin at the knees and his tan work boots were worn-out. None of this entered his mind. Getting the family to safety after they fed was all that mattered. He worried so much about them but he realized that concern was not returned.
I ain't nothing but a chauffeur and a watchdog for them, Eben sourly reflected. But then, what could you expect from folks in their condition?
Finally, three dark forms loped away from the shack and toward him. He could hear them cackling in glee. The back door of the van creaked open and he heard both Ray and Peter clamber in, still laughing. The passenger door swung out and Lydia swung up into the seat next to him. The youngest of the family at twenty-six when she had died, Lydia Middleton was short and chunky, with a rounded bust and solid hips in the tight jeans and red flannel shirt she invariably wore. An explosion of teased dark-blonde hair stood out from her head. Lydia's slightly trashy good looks were not helped by the smear of fresh blood around her mouth.
"Oh, it was great!" she whooped. "Man, Eben. This is the life... or whatever you call it. A young couple and a little boy no more than seven or eight. We drank our fill of the good stuff."
From the back, Peter stuck his shaggy head into the sliding panel. Usually he kept his black hair in a thick ponytail but tonight it was hanging loose. "Woo! Tasty. I'm stuffed. C'mon, Eben, let's put some distance between us and that crime scene, ha ha. We're gonna be zonking out soon anyway."
As he started the engine, Eben felt unexpectedly annoyed with the family. They sure took him for granted. "What condition did you leave the bodies in?"
Next to him, Lydia punched his shoulder a bit too hard for playfulness. "Hey, hey, we know our business, bro. Of course, we cut their throats so as to leave no bite marks. And because they bled out without getting any of our toxin in them, they're not gonna rise again. We don't want others of our kind givin' us competition."
"That's smart," he said, pulling out onto Route 109 and heading west. The nearest town was at least thirty miles away. "If'n an epidemic of you folks spread, even the cops would get wise."
From the back, the deep hollow voice of Ray Middleton said, "And we left our calling card. One of them little dolls with the hair standing up. They don't have anything to do with us, you realize, but they give the FBI a steer in the wrong direction. Let them waste their time trying to profile some kinda 'Troll Doll killer' and leave us alone."
"Ha ha! Poppa, you're sharp," Lydia laughed. She was wiping her face with some alcohol swabs, which she then wadded up and tossed out the half-open window. "But I guess we're done for the night. I'll be stretching out back there with you guys until sunset."
Before he closed the panel to the rear, Ray warned, "Don't wait too long, baby girl. Remember what happened when sunlight hit your maw. She fell apart like a house of cards."
"I'll be careful," the youngest Middleton answered. As the panel clicked shut, she handed Eben a loose wad of bills. "Here ya go, it's all I could find. One hunnerd and twenty-three dollars. Aw, Eben. Once in a while, I like to stay up here during the day. Long as I stay covered up with this blanket, I'll be safe enough."
"Honey, you know I like to have you fer company but that's just not safe. If a State trooper pulls us over or a trucker goes by, how am I gonna explain a dead woman under a blanket? They'll find the boys in back and take everyone out for examining and all three of you will collapse in the light."
"Yeah, I guess," she said. "It's just that sometimes I feel we don't spend enough time with you, Eben. We keep opposite hours and only get to talk at sunrise and sunset. Guess you better pull over so I can get in the back." She stretched and yawned wide to reveal her fangs.
II.
Jeremy Bane felt extremely ill at ease and more than a little ridiculous. The trailer home was clean and fresh-smelling to be sure, but it was so cramped and cluttered with nick-nacks that he worried about knocking something over every time he shifted his weight on the couch. Shelves crowded with little angel statuettes and dozens of framed photos of the same three pudgy grandchildren pressed in on him. The tiny coffee table where he dared not put down his cup of tea was piled with scrapbooks and magazines and sunglasses and boxes of tissues. Adding to his discomfort, the two sweet old ladies who lived here seemed perfectly content without air-conditioning or even an open window. Western Texas in late June was slightly warm.
But he smiled politely and listened with interest to all the local gossip that Rose and Olive Schupp were aching to tell him. At sixty, Bane remained lean and active, straight-backed at six feet tall. Only the increasing amount of white flecks in his black hair and the fine lines around his pale eyes gave away his age. From a distance, he might be taken for a man thirty years younger. Always the Dire Wolf. "So, that missing girl turned up later?"
"Oh, yes, the little vixen. She had gone with a boy she hardly knew to see some horrid 'rap battle' in Houston. A few days later, she waltzed into the family home as though no one could possibly have been worried about her," said Rose. "All that fuss for nothing."
"That's not what we wanted to tell you about, though," cut in the older of the two sisters. Olive Griffith had dried into a spare little creature with pencil-thin arms and a face like an axe blade but her eyes were bright and alert. "When you rescued our niece all those years ago, we promised to let you know if we heard about anything weird or supernatural in this area. Nothing ever did turn up."
"Whatever happened to your niece? Kirsten, right?"
"Yes, Kirsten Freiberg now," answered Rose. "She got her degree and became a pharmacist. Two years ago, she married a nice young fellow from Oklahoma, and we hear from her now and then. You know, Jeremy, she doesn't remember anything about that terrible night."
"Well, she was only three. I don't think children at that age create many lasting memories. When Quilt abducted her, he put her under with some sort of gas and she was unconscious most of the time." Bane finished the last of the ginseng tea and searched for a safe place to put the cup but ended up holding onto it. "I thought I destroyed Quilt that night, but unfortunately he has turned up several times since then."
Rose came to his rescue by taking the tea cup and blithely balancing it atop a precarious stack of ancient DVDs. "We owe you so much for bringing little Kirsten back safe and unharmed. And now, finally, we have a sighting to tell you about. Right here in Swank County. All this spring, dead bodies have been turning up with their throats cut open. Men, women, children, Mexicans, colored folk, there doesn't seem to be any pattern."
"And the bodies are mostly hidden but not well. Tucked away in the bushes, buried in shallow graves, that sort of thing," added Olive with almost a touch of glee. "It's quite inexplicable. Oh, and the most curious touch of all is that one of those little Troll dolls is found on the deceased!"
"Troll doll?" asked the Dire Wolf. "Those toys you see in dollar stores? Naked little gnomes with hair standing straight up? That IS curious."
"So the police say." Rose gave her sister a conspiratorial look. "Jeremy, the media have not covered this well at all, not at all. A sentence or two buried in the back of a newspaper, hardly a quick mention on the local news station. We feel certain a major cover-up is underway."
"It wouldn't be the first time,'" Bane agreed. "The authorities think preventing a possible panic is more important than letting the public know any danger they might be in. Tell me some details..."
For the next twenty minutes, the elderly Schupp sisters recounted as much as they could recall, often correcting each other and adding names or dates. "No, dear, that was the Monday after Easter. Remember, we bought three newspapers that day trying to learn more."
Over his career, Bane had developed a capacity for taking in verbal information and storing it accurately in his mind, no matter how long or rambling the telling might be. He had sat up straighter and, although he wasn't aware of it, a sharp glint had come into his grey eyes again. The patterns of these murders were intriguing...
Finally, he decided he had learned all these two could tell him, and he was growing eager to get on the hunt. Clapping his hands to his knees, he rose smoothly and only had to bow his head an inch to avoid touching the trailer's low ceiling. "Rose.. Olive.. thank you so much. I'm glad I stopped by to get in touch with you. I'm going to look into these killings, starting right now."
Rising themselves with some difficulty, the old women smiled at him. "I was stunned when you called to see if we would be home," said the older sister. "What in Heaven's name brought you to this forsaken corner of the state? Not much out here but tumbleweeds and dust and armadillos."
"Oh, I've been driving around the past two weeks," he answered. "Checking to see how old friends are. Looking for trouble, to be honest."
Seeing he was headed for the door, Rose took his arm and squeezed it affectionately. "I thought you had retired? Didn't you say you had closed the Dire Wolf Agency?"
One of his rare full smiles crossed Bane's face. He sighed. "I guess that was a mistake. I'm not meant for a peaceful life." As he opened the steel door and a blast of hot air rushed in, the Dire Wolf gave the two a farewell wave. "Take care. I'll let you know you what I turn up."
Several "Good-byes!" and "Come back soon!" were exchanged as he stepped out into a stifling windless afternoon and headed for his Subaru Outback. Bane was mostly relieved to get out of that crowded little trailer but he was also touched a bit by seeing Rose and Olive again. He had barely recognized them. When had he rescued the little girl from Quilt? Twenty years ago? No, thirty. 1997. Damn, he had been doing this a long time.
Starting up the car, the Dire Wolf rolled down all the windows to blast out the oven-level air with the fans before turning on the AC. He had left Manhattan sixteen days earlier, driving slowly in a southwest direction and meeting up with some of his network of observers. They all owed him either their own lives or the lives of loved ones, but he had never accepted cash rewards. Instead, he had asked that they stay alert for any Midnight War phenomena and to let him know. Many of his most important cases had begun with a phone call from one of his observers.
Easing out on the highway that led back to town, Bane remembered the one detail that had jumped out at him. Rose and Olive had considered it signficant enough to mention several times. The victims had all had their throats sliced open by some sharp curved blade, there were no tell-tale bite marks. Even so, remarkably little blood had been found at any of the murder scenes.
III.
At seven-thirty, Eben rolled into the gravel parking lot of the TAKE FIVE MOTEL. He had been driving for more than two hours and figured that he put enough distance between the family and last night's feeding. He felt hopelessly grimy and sore, and he was so sleepy that his head throbbed. Despite the way he lived on the run, there was more than three thousand dollars in small bills stowed away under the front seat. Usually, Lydia thought to snatch some beer or pretzels or packaged food from the homes they had hit, but not always. Too much blood made her groggy. Using the stolen driver's license that most resembled him, Eben checked in at the front desk and found that the grumpy clerk barely glanced at it before taking his money and sliding a set of keys over at him. Mumbling thanks, scratching the back of his head, Eben pulled the SUV over to the end of the L-shaped motel and made sure the doors were locked before stumbling into his room.
Anyone trying to steal the rusted-out rundown SUV would have to be desperate, he thought. It made him laugh to realize that the rear compartment was padlocked from inside, as well. Its occupants did not want to be disturbed. Leaving a trail of clothing behind him, he took a one-minute hot shower, turned on the AC in one window of the room and crawled between the cool dry sheets gratefully. Hair still wet and matted, he was asleep inRaytly.
Shortly before noon, a dark green Subaru Outback eased up to the railing that ran the length of the motel. Bane was still mulling over all the details about the 'Troll doll murders' that the Schupp sisters had given him. He needed to get everything organized and figure out where the killer or killers would be heading next. Certainly, the Texas police and the FBI were doing the same thing, but the Dire Wolf thought that maybe his experience with the supernatural might help him spot something that they might miss.
As he headed for the room he had rented the previous day, Bane's brisk stride faltered. He swung around to fix a suspicious stare on the SUV next to him. There was nothing remarkable about it, the roads held thousands just like it, a common Ford at least twelve years old, but his knives had given a warning. Strapped to sheaths under his sleeves were the two matched silver daggers he had been given decades earlier by Kenneth Dred. Those blades had been blessed by the immortal Eldarin themselves, and they had slain many creatures of the night. Through the thin leather sheaths, Bane had felt the knives grow hot against his forearms. Something malevolent was nearby, gralic energy turned toward the dark side which the silver daggers reacted to almost like living things.
What was going on here, he wondered. From where he stood, he took in every detail of the SUV, not only the license plates and the number of the expired inspection sticker in the windshield, but the location and size of every dent and ding and scratch. He saw the worn tread of the tires and estimated what kind of marks they would leave. Stepping a bit closer, glancing inside the cabin cluttered with empty styrofoam coffee cups and candy bar wrappers and a grubby denim jacket, Bane remembered everything so well that he would have been able to sketch it weeks later. This was automatic procedure when his interest was aroused. He had not have natural total recall, only long years of training and practice, but it amounted to the same thing. The whole process took only a few seconds and anyone watching would have thought that Bane had merely glanced idly at the vehicle as he passed.
Without breaking stride, the Dire Wolf reached inside the right front of his black sport jacket, dug out a flat metal disc the size of a quarter and peeled off the piece of paper on its back. He pressed the tracer up inside the left rear wheel well where its adhesive backing held it firmly in place. Bane continued past the SUV toward the rooms he had taken, unlocked the front door and stepped into the dim cool interior gratefully.
Before settling in, he slid open the curtains on the wide picture window that faced the parking lot and brought a chair over so he could keep watch. All his instincts were tugging at him to investigate further. The strange aura of that vehicle might have nothing to do with the murders he had come to solve. Maybe some Midnight War creature like a Skinwalker had sniffed around the SUV the night before. Maybe the owner had unknowingly been carrying around some minor talisman or artifact that seemed to be only a harmless knick-knick. That had happened before. Bane fetched a film-wrapped twelve-inch ham and cheese sub from his knapsack and a bottle of club soda, then settled back in the chair to keep an eye on that SUV while he thought the situation over.
III.
At seven-thirty, dusk had fallen although it would not be completely dark for another hour this time of year. Eben got up off the double bed, stretched and scratched and smacked his lips. He had dozed much of the day, walked down the road to come back with a paper sack of fast food, two cheeseburgers and fries, and listened to the television without paying much attention to it. He was worried about the future. How long could this arrangement go on? What would happen if he tried to get out of the deal... what would they do to him? Sometimes he felt like he was being kept as an emergency meal if the family went on the run. Sooner or later, he figured things would go sour.
Going outside, he went around to the back of the Ford and listened as the padlock inside clicked open. Cautiously, sniffing the air like a hound, Ray Middleton gave the surroundings a long suspicious stare before climbing out the back compartment. The other two followed, also acting wary. They were not only outside man-made law, they were outside the natural order of life. "Everything cool?" asked Ray.
"Yep, nothing going on here," Eben said. "I rested a bit, ate some. What's the plan for tonight, boss?"
"Let's get inside fer a bit," said the family patriarch. Ray had a bass voice that belied his gaunt appearance and sunken cheeks. He reached back into the rear of the SUV and pulled out a big black lawn bag full of clothing. "Peter, I do believe it's your turn. You see the laundry room down there at the end as well as I do. You got money on you. Do these clothes and make sure they're good and dry. We don't want no mildew, you hear."
"Aw, pop, whadda we care about stuff like that?" came the whiny complaint.
"In case we have to talk to the PO-leece, son. Cause we have to be at least presentable. If we look filthy and homeless, we'll draw attention. Each of us is gonna take a shower, too. I believe we might well be goin' to a honkytonk tonight."
"Hell, at least that sounds like fun," Peter admitted. He hoisted the bag of dirty clothing up across one shoulder and starting toward the laundry room. "Some music would be all right, even if we can't get drunk no more."
"Come on, you two," Ray said, still looking around the parking lot. "Something doesn't feel right around here. I can't put my finger on it..."
"Yer instincts are pretty good," Lydia said. "But I don't see nothing out of the ordinary."
They stepped inside and Ray sniffed around some more before going into the bathroom. A minute later, rushing water could be heard. Going to a chair facing the TV, Eben saw the evening news was about some train derailment in Atlantic City, New Jersey and his attention fled away. Then Lydia squeezed in next to him on the chair, one arm around his neck.
"I've been remembering my old life," she said. "It makes me sad, you know? I don't get horny at all anymore."
"Your body ain't producing those hormones, I guess," he said with increasing discomfort. "You said you three don't feel cold or heat either."
"No. We can walk through a blizzard and hardly notice. Reckon some things are lost forever." She nuzzled up closer and grinned at his face, almost touching it with hers. "I tell you what, buddy. If you want, you can mess around with me during the day. Do whatever you want. I won't mind at all. You might as well have SOME fun, and I remember how boys used to go completely nuts over my body."
Eben had no idea what to say. He could feel the soft weight of her breasts against him and the gleam of white teeth in a wicked smile was tempting. But suddenly he felt sick. Last night, she had murdered a complete stranger. She had helped her father and her brother kill dozens of innocent people in the year he had known them, and not only that, they drank the blood of their victims...! He wondered if his hair was standing up as he stared at her smile and imagined that mouth sucking at an open wound, guzzling down hot salty blood. It wasn't her fault, he figured, she had to do that to survive. But still it made him nauseous to picture the scene.
"I don't see how that'd be right," he answered at last. "It seems, well, going against the strongest taboos, more than doin' it with your sister. I'm not saying you're not sexy, because you sure are but..."
An unexpected icy glitter came into her blue eyes and her voice was ominously low. "It's cause my skin is cold, I bet. I know I'm at room temperature. So what? Come on, Eben, I wanna feel like I'm still a woman."
"I want to, Lydia, I surely do. And I'll be honest, I've had daydreams about you. Maybe I'm just being shy out of nowhere."
At that moment, the bathroom door swung open to release a gust of hot steamy air. His pale bony middle wrapped with a towel, Ray Middleton strode out into the motel room and threw himself down on the couch. "Soon as Peter comes back with the laundry, I'll put on some clean clothes. My whiskers don't grow no more, neither him nor me have had to shave since we Turned."
"Same for my legs," chuckled Lydia, easing up off Eben and getting to her feet. "That's a chore I don't miss. I s'pose I'll be in there a while, Eben. I brought some brightener for my hair. You need to go in before I make myself byoo-tiful?"
Eben laughed, as much in relief at having the tension between Lydia and himself broken as for anything else. "Naw, I'm good, honey. Do what you do best."
Pacing back and forth in a room two doors down, Jeremy Bane had seen three people emerge from the SUV where they had been locked in without windows or fresh air all through a muggy June day in Texas. Now it was getting dark when the creatures of the night would be out and about. His fears were confirmed.
IV.
Earlier that day, Bane had phoned out for a pepperoni pizza with a double side order of meatballs and a 64-ounce bottle of club soda. All of this had been promptly consumed. His enhanced speed meant a high-charged metabolism, resulting in general restlessness and appetite enough for three men his size. Even though he had hardly sat still, making phone calls and checking with his various sources as he roamed around the hotel room like a real wolf, Bane had kept a watch on that SUV in the parking lot. The streetlamps by the highway came on at dusk, the hotel floodlights illuminated the big sign that offered ROOMS AVAILABLE - CABLE TV - AIR CONDITIONING. That was when the man in the room two doors to his left had gone out to greet the three people who evidently had spent the day inside the rear of that Ford. A middle-aged man, a younger man and a blonde woman. None of them were well dressed or neatly groomed. In fact, it was easily to believe from their appearance that they had been living in the back of that Ford for some time.
The Dire Wolf fought down an urge to rush outside and confront them. He was sure they were the Undead he had sought, but this was not the right time nor place. He knew he had to catch them ready to strike before he could take action without fear of being proven wrong. From its clip on his belt, he unsnapped the Link and activated it. Although modern smartphones were catching up to the Links, the Trom technology was still more advanced. On the screen appeared a pale green grid,and a single yellow blip blinked on and off rapidly. Bane returned the device to his belt, went to use the bathroom while he had a chance and came back out in time to see the old Ford back up and swing around to head out of the parking lot. Finally, the hunt was underway.
He had been wondering about the odds regarding his having taken rooms at the very same motel in all of Texas where the vampires had chosen to hole up during the daylight hours. It had to be mere coincidence. He had never been able to develop even the most rudimentary pyschic abilities. The Teachers of Tel Shai had given up on coaching him in that area, concluding that Bane was entirely too stubborn and pragmatic for any sort of mystic perception. So there was no way he had been drawn here by the Undead. He decided it was only chance and at least it made up for all the times disastrous strokes of bad luck had made his missions immensely more difficult and dangerous.
The SUV had headed west on the highway as he watched. There was no need to worry about losing it. The tiny tracers had a reliable range of three hundred miles. He glanced around the hotel room before leaving, as was his lifelong custom. The single knapsack next to the bed held only spare clothes and mundane toiletries. All his specialized gear was locked in his car. Surveying the area, Bane saw no sign that anyone was watching from one of the rooms as he unlocked the trunk of his Subaru. Satchels and metal cases were carefully secured with straps so that they would not move no matter what maneuvers his driving entailed. Digging around, the Dire Wolf came up with a canvas bag three feet deep and checked its contents. The faintest smile flickered across his face in the gloom as he reminisced for a second about this was some of his oldest equipment, presented to him by Kenneth Dred on one of their earliest cases, when they had first started working together. Bane had only been twenty years old then....
With a sudden snort at himself, he shook off the temptation to think about the past. He needed focus and concentration. Getting behind the wheel, the Dire Wolf took up the pursuit one more time. He drove off into a sullen oppressive night in search of deadly enemies of the living.
V.
Saturday was Peanut Night at the GLORY BOUND bar. Three open barrels of peanuts had been set out on the floor at intervals and by eleven o'clock, the floor was so littered with the discarded shells that the patrons found it hilarious how loud the crunching was wherever they walked. In recent years, a big hand-lettered sign in the dirt parking lot warned of the presence of peanuts to anyone approaching. At the open door through which raucous laughter and energetic music poured, the burly man who took the cover charge also delivered a set speech and made everyone entering state out loud that he or she did not have a peanut allergy.
The GLORY BOUND was packed. Eben and Peter had managed to get a chance of the pool table, but neither was particularly good at the game. Eben only allowed himself one beer; ironically, he was the only member of the family who felt the effects of alcohol but he was also the driver and so could not afford to indulge. He did enjoy the old-fashioned country music from the music and checking out the young women in their tight jeans and cowboy boots. Ray stayed near the bar, sipping his drink and watching the crowd as if expecting an attack any second.
As for Lydia, she was adoring all the attention she got, accepting free drinks but brushing off attempts by men to get to know her better. The ego boost of being pursued suited her but she felt no sexual urges anymore. None of them did, any more than they craved solid food or than they could tell if it was hot or cold outside. They weren't alive.
At midnight, she accepted the offer by three young men to step outside for a cigarette. She hadn't smoked since she had Turned and it suddenly interested her to find out if she would feel anything if she took a few puffs. The men were in their late twenties and at least two of them worked at some place called BEST BODY REPAIRS judging by the patches on their slate-grey work shirts. As she passed Ray on her way out, she made a smoking gesture to reassure him but received only an irritated glare in return. She didn't care. She had always done as she pleased and her father had always grumbled but put up with it.
The battered old Ford SUV was parked on the far end of the lot, facing outward. Lydia headed straight for it and the three men tagged along behind her. The youngest one had a mullet, his black hair short on the front and sides but long over his collar. He'd already dug a nearly empty pack of Kools from his shirt pocket and lit one as soon as he could get it in his mouth. Turning, Lydia leaned back up against the rear of the vehicle and accepted a cigarette and a light. She knew the lustful looks she was getting from these men but she also saw that they weren't going to try anything. Not yet, anyway. Give them another few hours and some more drinks. Lydia placed the filter end between her lips and inhaled with a conscious effort. She only took a breath when she wanted to talk, otherwise her body didn't need air and the breathing reflex had died out along with many other autonomic functions.
Two of the men were laughing and saying how they had been waiting all week to blow off some steam like this. One said he wanted to dance all night and the other cackled, commenting on how the way he danced was bound to scare all the girls away. The one with the mullet was watching Lydia and seemed puzzled.
She was disappointed because she not only couldn't taste the cigarette smoke, it had no effect on her. That figured. A wave of unreasonable melancholy swelled up inside her. Sometimes she fooled herself into thinking she still could enjoy normal activities and then her condition slammed itself clearly into her awareness. Lydia held the cigarette up and regarded the glowing red end with as much sorrow as her lessened emotions could muster. Faintly, she realized that the guy was talking to her.
"That's funny," he said. "Aren't you going to blow any of that smoke out?"
Making herself exhale, the Undead released a white plume into the night air. She had forgotten.
"Man, that's the longest I ever saw anyone hold a breath," the young man said.
"We're heading back in, Owen," said one of his friends. "You coming?"
"Stay out here and talk a while," Lydia broke in. "It's too crowded in there right now."
"Sure, I'd like that," Owen said cheerfully. "You guys go ahead."
"Haw. Have fun." As the two of them started back toward the lights and music, one called back, "If'n you can't be good, be careful."
Her cigarette had gone out. Handing it to the man, Lydia said, "Here. Thanks but I guess I lost the craving for them things."
"You're better off, believe me. Listen, honey, I'm not like those other guys in there. I just broke up with a girlfriend of two years and I didn't think it was gonna hit me this way. Maybe we really can talk for a while?"
Lydia found herself staring at his throat, sensing where the big carotid artery went up bringing oxygen-rich red blood to the brain. It would be so easy to lure him around behind the SUV out of sight, to yank his head back and plunge her fangs deep.... But she wasn't supposed to feed tonight. They wouldn't need blood for almost a week after how much they had taken the night before. It was only the primal urge calling to her.
"Sweetie, you okay?" Owen asked. "You been staring at me with this expression like you're a hunnerd miles away."
"I was thinking," she mumbled. To hell with what her father and brother had told her about staying out of trouble. Who knew what was going to happen to them? Any night might be their last. She put a smile on her face and reached out to take him by the upper arm. "Come on, let's go sit out of sight and you can tell me what's on your mind."
"Thanks. I believe I will," said Owen. He walked with her over to the front of the old Ford, where only scrubby dried grass and bushes reached to where a line of trees showed in the gloom. He stopped short as a stranger swung around to face them. The newcomer could not be clearly seen this far from the lights of GLORY BOUND but he seemed to be a middle-aged man dressed all in black, watching them with a cold calm stare that reminded Owen of his own cat watching a little bird on the lawn.
"Whadda YOU want?" he demanded. "What's wrong with you, sneakin' around in the dark like that?"
"You've heard about the murders in this area?" asked Bane quietly.
"Oh My God. You're the Troll Doll Killer. Get behind me, sweetheart, he ain't going to hurt you without goin' through me first."
Moving closer, the Dire Wolf held up his leather billfold, showing his New York Private Investigator License and his consultant card with the FBI's Department 21 Black. "Here. Use your lighter to get a look. You're in danger, son, but not from me."
In the next few seconds, Bane received one of the biggest surprises he had received in years. His training and experience told him that this kid would work up gradually to fight, talking tough and then shoving him in the chest with an open hand before actually starting the clash. Instead, Owen tossed his cigarette off to one side and instantly threw a short mean left hook. Even taken off guard like that, Bane drew his head back and whipped up a palm block that should have slapped the punch past him... but instead, that fist cracked solidly against the side of his face. The Dire Wolf lurched back a step. Even before that swing was completed and Owen could try another punch, Bane had set himself up and driven a straight left fist right to the solar plexus. All the air rushed out of Owen's lungs and his nerves went blank for a second. The young man fell to his hands and knees and vomited.
For the next few minutes, Owen would be preoccupied with trying to catch his breath while retching at the same time. He had taken a few drinks too many and had been close to throwing up in any case. Bane was still shocked that the kid's punch had connected like that. His block had been a tiny fraction of an inch too late, maybe a bit too low and the untrained civilian had tagged him on the cheek. Bane felt an unfamiliar dismay. Maybe he was finally starting to get old, to lose his nearly perfect combat edge. Age happened to everyone but he hadn't seriously expect it to affect him.
But these thoughts only occupied him for a second. As soon as Owen was kneeling and heaving, Bane wheeled around to face Lydia. "You're the real threat here. Aren't you?"
The blonde woman had not moved as she took in the sudden flurry of violence that had taken place. "Who are you anyway? Are you a cop?"
"No. You should know that I already picked the lock on your car here and had a good look inside. A plastic bag filled with a dozen of those little Troll Dolls that have been found at each killing. Lots of bloody rags tucked away, DNA testing on them will be interesting. Back window painted over so not a trace of sunlight can get in. Enough evidence."
Lydia grinned as her upper canines extended down to her full length. "It 'pears to me that you've found out too much for your own good, buddy.Come here. Let me show you something."
But Owen interrupted, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and getting unsteadily to his feet. "Get away from her, grandpa. I can take whatever you can dish out."
"Baby, it's all right," Lydia cooed. "You go inside with your friends. I'll be coming along in a few minutes. This man has some legal stuff he has to tell me. It's okay, really."
"Well.. If you say so. I guess. But I'll be back out if you don't show, and I'll be bringing Mel and Joey with me. This ain't over, mister." With exaggerated determination, Owen stepped around the stinking puddle he had left on the ground and marched back to GLORY BOUND.
The two hunters of the night waited until the young man was nearly at the bar door before moving toward each other again. "You were about to feed on him, and all he wanted was some consoling converation," Bane said. Reaching behind him, he stuck his hand into the open flap of the canvas satchel he wore over one shoulder. "Now he has a chance at a long and hopefully normal life. More than you do."
"I didn't ask for a sermon," Lydia hissed and she rushed at the stranger like a cat pouncing. But this time Bane acted with precision and skill. He swept her legs out from under her with a low kick, and as she fell hard onto her back, he dropped to one knee and slammed the sharpened ash stake right under her left breast. She didn't make any noise, not even a gasp. Her fingers curled up and then went limp again. Standing, the Dire Wolf glared around but no one was in sight. He had to act quickly. Already, the cadaver was decaying visibly. Bane swung open the back door of the SUV, hoisted up the body and tossed it inside, closing the door again with relief. Sometimes the Undead fell apart completely when they were staked but apparently this Lydia Middleton had only Turned a few years earlier.
Bane watched the GLORY BOUND bar. Four patrons were leaning up against a big Explorer, laughing and yelling over the music from within. At least Owen hadn't raised a general alarm. He saw a tall thin man come out in the open and start moving across the parking lot straight toward where the SUV waited. This would be the brother Pete.
V.
When Pete Middleton saw the three Living return without Lydia, he had not waited to ask what was going on. He had already been standing near the door and had immediately slipped through and marched quickly across the parking lot. Damnation, his sister was always so much trouble. But, considering his father's temper, it was better not to say anything just yet. The old man was likely to gather everyone up and make a run for it at the slightest complication and Pete was enjoying getting out. There was still enough Human character left in him that he wanted to hear jokes and watch the sports channel on the TV mounted over the bar for a while.
No, he would drag Lydia back inside and try to keep things quiet. When he neared the SUV, though, his senses flared up with the predatory instincts of the Undead. There was a breathing person nearby. Had his sister found another victim? Would they have to hide a fresh corpse and hit the road immediately? Why couldn't she behave and follow the rules once in a while? Pete swung around the back of the SUV and saw that the rear door was partly open. That was strange.
Seeing perfectly well in the dark, the creature yanked the door open and found Lydia's body lying there. With a stake through her heart! Someone knew about them. Someone was prepared. A vampire hunter. Pete whirled around in time to feel unbearable searing pain tear across his neck and chest. It burned worse than anything he had felt when he was alive. He had a momentary glimpse of a man in black who wielded two shining blades in his hands, then even the semblance of animation fled his corpse and he fell to the dirt without trying to catch himself.
Bane gave the silver daggers a glance and saw they were clean before returning them to their sheaths. The blades were not large and the hilts were short knobs so that the knives would fit on his forearms, but that silver had been ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin themselves ages ago. Against the creatures of the night, they were the most potent weapons he had ever found. He knew that this vampire had been destroyed. Still, best to make absolutely sure. The Dire Wolf lifted the body up by the shirt collar and belt, tossed it into the back of the Ford and turned it over on its back. He placed a stake point down over the heart, lifted his other hand and slammed his fist down to drive the wooden shaft deep. There, that had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped. He straightened up and was tackled by a solid mass of unliving muscle and bone that smashed him down into the dirt.
It was Ray, the father, out to see what was going on. Even as his shoulders smacked to the ground, Bane had driven his forearm up across the Undead's throat to keep those fangs away from him. He rolled to his left, leaped up and flashed out a front snap kick which caught Ray right in the middle of the face. The steel-capped boots Bane wore would have killed any normal Human with that impact but the vampire father ignored it and was on top of him again, clutching at his throat. The Dire Wolf settled his weight and drummed twenty full power punches to the torso, alternating left and right, cracking bone wherever he connected. Although he couldn't feel pain, Ray was forced back a few inches by the relentless attack. Bane swung sideways, drew his knee up to his chest and crashed a straight side kick that hurled the Undead back off his feet entirely.
"Where are they? Where are my kids?" hissed Ray through a contorted mouth. He was up again in a crouch, fingers curled into claws strong as a hawk's talons.
Bane did not answer. He had no intention of getting into a prolonged brawl with a vampire if he could help it. He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened them out with a silver dagger in each hand. Even in the dim light, those blades gleamed brilliantly with a blue sheen brighter than reflected light could explain. Caught between a killing urge and deep fear of that silver, Ray froze into position and could only snarl and move his hands in small futile circles. The Dire Wolf saw his opening and lunged in like a fencer, sliding the left hand dagger directly into the Undead's chest. But Ray was not instantly destroyed. He seized Bane's other wrist and yanked that arm out straight with a cruelty that dislocated the shoulder. Despite himself, the Dire Wolf could not help dropping one dagger as his arm went numb. The other blade had come free of Ray's body in the exchange.
The father of the vampire clan kicked up for Bane's crotch. Raising one knee, the Dire Wolf blocked that foot but it struck his thigh instead. He was off balance for an instant and Ray backhanded him across the face. For the second time that night, Bane took a blow to the head that he hdn't deflected or dodged, and cold rage exploded in him. Even with his right arm hanging limp, the Dire Wolf leaped in and slashed back and forth with the silver dagger in his left arm to rip open deep gouges in his enemy's torso. A wheezing gasp escaped the vampire, then the body dropped face down as if dropped from a height.
Chest heaving, Bane caught hold of himself. He wasn't doing too well in these clashes. Was he only having an off night or was he genuinely past his peak? There was no time to worry about it. He had to hurry in case anyone came out of the bar and caught sight of this activity. As he calmed down, he saw for the first time a grimy-looking man holding a broken two-by-four in both hands. When the man realized Bane was glaring at him, he dropped the wood and held up both hands. "Whoa, whoa, hold it. I give up. Take me into custody. Don't kill me, mister."
"You stay put and keep quiet," the Dire Wolf ordered. He tucked the silver dagger awkwardly into his belt, bent to pick up the other one and walked over to a solid oak tree that spread over that end of the parking lot. Bane adjusted his dangling arm, set himself and slammed up hard against the tree to get his shoulder back into its socket. All his training wasn't much help at ignoring the pain. His hand still had no feeling in it, but he could flex his arm now. In a few minutes, he expected he would be able to use it again. Completely furious over the way this case had gone despite its success, Bane stared at the living man who had been helping these creatures. Something in those gray eyes made the man flinch and draw back as if expecting to get hit by lightning any second.
VI.
Limping heavily, rotating his right shoulder as sensation returned to it, Bane doggedly made his way back to the Ford where Eben Caldwell waited. The soreness was taking longer than usual to vanish. Could his enhanced healing factor from the Tagra tea be wearing down as his body acclimated itself? Maybe one cup each morning wasn't enough. He'd have to go to the Order and ask Teacher Chael about this. He hadn't been at Tel Shai enough lately anyway. At the old SUV, he found Eben leaned up against the front fender with a terrified expression.
"I suppose you're gonna kill me too?" the man asked as if wondering something minor. "Go ahaid. After what I saw you do tonight, I know that I sure as hell can't fight you, No, and not run fast enough to get away neither."
Opening the driver side door, the Dire Wolf levered himself up onto the seat and could not repress a sigh. He left the door open, sitting with his hands resting on his thighs. "I can't execute anyone in cold blood, Eben. I just can't. It's not in me. But it does leave a problem regarding what to do with you."
Watching the narrow feral face so close to his own, Eben hesitated to speak but finally said, "You know, I never killed any of those people myself. Never even tied anyone up or seen the bodies."
"That's not going to help," Bane said. "You're an accesory. I took a picture of you and ran face recognition through the Texas DMV. That's how I know your name. For the past year, you've been on your little 'Vampire Road Trip' across the Southwest. You drove those monsters to the mass murder scenes, you hid and protected them during the day. You're as guilty as they are, Eben. If they were ordinary armed holdup men, I'd turn you over to the FBI and testify in court myself. But I can't do that either."
"Because of what they were?"
"Of course. No judge would even consider hearing charges of aiding and abetting vampires. Seriously. No prosecutor would listen to the presentation. I'd be charged with wasting the court's time and face a stiff fine or even some time behind bars, depending. I suppose I could call in Department 21 Black or the Mandate. Those guys would interrogate you and they're not gentle in their methods. I'll be honest, you'd never be seen again after they learned what they wanted from you."
"Ack. Government secret police. Geez, I don't want that. So, Mr Bane. You don't wanna kill me and you don't wanna turn me in. Mebbe you could see your way to let me go? It's not like anything like this would ever happen again. Right?"
The Dire Wolf turned those unsettling pale eyes on the broken man standing within arm's reach. "No. I won't even consider it. The best estimate is that your Undead clan in there killed more than a hundred innocent people in the past fourteen months. Yes, they had to drink blood to survive so you could make a case that they had no choice. That doesn't matter. All those men and women and children also had a right to live, and your friends were an unnatural threat that couldn't be allowed to exist. Honestly, I think you're worse than they were because you're a living Human and you decided of your free will to go along with them."
"So. Whatcha going to do, then?"
"I'll think of something, I always do." Bane turned his body inward on the seat and pulled his legs in. "Get in the passenger seat, Eben."
As the man complied and climbed in, the Dire Wolf took the keys he had confiscated earlier and started the engine. "It'd simplify things for me if you attacked me. Try to grab my gun. Or if you made a run for it. I might feel justified in using deadly force then."
"Nah, I ain't that crazy. Where we going?"
"I saw a likely spot about ten miles south of here." Bane backed the SUV up, scowling at how rough the motor was running and how the brakes squeaked. He swung around and drove slowly through the parking lot along the access road back to the highway. Only that boy Owen had seen him, and Bane thought that the darkness had been enough that the kid wouldn't be able to provide a useful description. Aside from that, all that anyone at the GLORY BOUND bar might remember was that a moderately hot blonde had showed up for a few hours with her father and brother, and then they had taken off. Nothing remarkable. None of the patrons shooting pool or arguing sports would ever suspect that those three individuals were being hauled away in the back of an SUV with wooden stakes in their chests.
VIII.
On a deserted stretch between two towns, Bane slowed and turned off the road completely to skid down a steep embankment into a dry gully. The SUV did not entirely turn over but settled at an angle with the driver side up in the air. Unfastening his seat belt, the Dire Wolf swung the door open and nimbly climbed out to drop a few feet to the hardened dirt. "Come on," he snapped at Eben. "Get out before I decide to leave you in there."
As soon as the man had scrambled his way out, Bane pointed down the gulley. "Start walking that way about a hundred yards, then wait for me. Don't make me chase you down."
"What are you gonna do anyway? You deliberately drove off the road up there!"
"Get going." Seeing Eben start trudging away along the gully floor, Bane reached into a seam at the inside back of his jacket and extracted three flat discs the size of silver dollars. They were wrapped in tough plastic which was difficult to get off. Once he had them exposed, the discs were revealed to have a contact patch on one side and an adhesive strip on the other. He knelt by the askew SUV and fastened one disc to the underside of the gas tank. Then a second disc on the hood, and the third was placed inside the rear compartment where the three corpses were beginning to stink as if they had been dead for a week. He had not had to use the Trom incendiaries in years and wasn't thrilled at the prospect now but there was a good reason he always carried a few when he was on a case. Bane took a deep breath, quickly went around and depressed the contact on each disc until there was a click. Then he swung around and loped up the gulley toward where Eben had been watching.
"Let's move. See those trees up ahead? Try to crouch down behind them."
They missed getting in the shelter of the trees by a bare second. Three blindly bright white glares dazzled them even facing away, then the gasoline exploded and a fireball shot upward with a dull thumping boom. Foul black smoke billowed into the sultry air. Bane had dropped his hands and knees, feeling the slap of intense heat across his back. He rose again and found Eben had fallen completely limp from the jolt.
"Come on, you're okay," he told the man. "We still have a long walk back to my car."
"I know what you did. That was thermite, right? My cousin used that stuff in demolition."
"Not exactly thermite but close," Bane said. He watched the flames as they began to ebb slightly but gave signs of continuing to burn for a while. The SUV had sagged into a shapeless mass. Especially important was that the rear compartment seemed demolished. He didn't see how investigators would ever reconstruct anything useful, especially if they weren't even thinking of finding evidence of vampirism. The Trom incendiary compound left only tiny trace elements not associated with accelerants.
"I guess they're really gone now," Eben sighed. "Lydia, Pete, Ray. I know they didn't really care about me. I was useful to them, nothing more. But they was as close to a family as I knew since my Maw died when I was fifteen."
"Don't try to make me feel sorry for you," Bane said. He smacked Eben hard enough on the back of the head that the man staggered. "You helped them in a series of mass murders. Think of all those innocent people. Keep walking. I figure we'll get to where I left my car before dawn."
"I have to ask. I have to. What's going to happen to me?"
"Honestly, I think I should have knocked you out and left you in the Ford," Bane growled. "But I have an idea. I need to contact a guy named Galvan or maybe Sulak if I can't find Galvan. They'll take you to a place more distant than anything on any map you'll ever see. It's called Androval. And I guarantee you'll stay there. You won't be mistreated, you'll be fed and clothed and sheltered. But you'll be laboring on their estates the rest of your life."
"Huh. I guess that don't sound too bad. It's not like I haven't worked hard all my life already."
"It's better than you deserve," the Dire Wolf told him. "Maybe I'm getting too soft for this Midnight War."
10/22/2018
6/22/- 6/24/2018
I.
There had only been a few brief screams from the shack. In the long silent hour that followed, Eben fidgeted behind the wheel. The family was cutting it awful close this time, he thought. Already, the sky to the east was looking paler. In the battered old Ford SUV with its rust around the rear wheel wells and its Grand Canyon bumper sticker, he drummed his fingers and grew increasingly nervous.
At forty-seven, Eben Caldwell seemed considerably older. The skin on his face and hands was leathery and sunburned, his longish dark hair was showing plentiful streaks of white lately. He still wore one of his old work shirts from the gas station, with the name tag ripped off; his pants were growing thin at the knees and his tan work boots were worn-out. None of this entered his mind. Getting the family to safety after they fed was all that mattered. He worried so much about them but he realized that concern was not returned.
I ain't nothing but a chauffeur and a watchdog for them, Eben sourly reflected. But then, what could you expect from folks in their condition?
Finally, three dark forms loped away from the shack and toward him. He could hear them cackling in glee. The back door of the van creaked open and he heard both Ray and Peter clamber in, still laughing. The passenger door swung out and Lydia swung up into the seat next to him. The youngest of the family at twenty-six when she had died, Lydia Middleton was short and chunky, with a rounded bust and solid hips in the tight jeans and red flannel shirt she invariably wore. An explosion of teased dark-blonde hair stood out from her head. Lydia's slightly trashy good looks were not helped by the smear of fresh blood around her mouth.
"Oh, it was great!" she whooped. "Man, Eben. This is the life... or whatever you call it. A young couple and a little boy no more than seven or eight. We drank our fill of the good stuff."
From the back, Peter stuck his shaggy head into the sliding panel. Usually he kept his black hair in a thick ponytail but tonight it was hanging loose. "Woo! Tasty. I'm stuffed. C'mon, Eben, let's put some distance between us and that crime scene, ha ha. We're gonna be zonking out soon anyway."
As he started the engine, Eben felt unexpectedly annoyed with the family. They sure took him for granted. "What condition did you leave the bodies in?"
Next to him, Lydia punched his shoulder a bit too hard for playfulness. "Hey, hey, we know our business, bro. Of course, we cut their throats so as to leave no bite marks. And because they bled out without getting any of our toxin in them, they're not gonna rise again. We don't want others of our kind givin' us competition."
"That's smart," he said, pulling out onto Route 109 and heading west. The nearest town was at least thirty miles away. "If'n an epidemic of you folks spread, even the cops would get wise."
From the back, the deep hollow voice of Ray Middleton said, "And we left our calling card. One of them little dolls with the hair standing up. They don't have anything to do with us, you realize, but they give the FBI a steer in the wrong direction. Let them waste their time trying to profile some kinda 'Troll Doll killer' and leave us alone."
"Ha ha! Poppa, you're sharp," Lydia laughed. She was wiping her face with some alcohol swabs, which she then wadded up and tossed out the half-open window. "But I guess we're done for the night. I'll be stretching out back there with you guys until sunset."
Before he closed the panel to the rear, Ray warned, "Don't wait too long, baby girl. Remember what happened when sunlight hit your maw. She fell apart like a house of cards."
"I'll be careful," the youngest Middleton answered. As the panel clicked shut, she handed Eben a loose wad of bills. "Here ya go, it's all I could find. One hunnerd and twenty-three dollars. Aw, Eben. Once in a while, I like to stay up here during the day. Long as I stay covered up with this blanket, I'll be safe enough."
"Honey, you know I like to have you fer company but that's just not safe. If a State trooper pulls us over or a trucker goes by, how am I gonna explain a dead woman under a blanket? They'll find the boys in back and take everyone out for examining and all three of you will collapse in the light."
"Yeah, I guess," she said. "It's just that sometimes I feel we don't spend enough time with you, Eben. We keep opposite hours and only get to talk at sunrise and sunset. Guess you better pull over so I can get in the back." She stretched and yawned wide to reveal her fangs.
II.
Jeremy Bane felt extremely ill at ease and more than a little ridiculous. The trailer home was clean and fresh-smelling to be sure, but it was so cramped and cluttered with nick-nacks that he worried about knocking something over every time he shifted his weight on the couch. Shelves crowded with little angel statuettes and dozens of framed photos of the same three pudgy grandchildren pressed in on him. The tiny coffee table where he dared not put down his cup of tea was piled with scrapbooks and magazines and sunglasses and boxes of tissues. Adding to his discomfort, the two sweet old ladies who lived here seemed perfectly content without air-conditioning or even an open window. Western Texas in late June was slightly warm.
But he smiled politely and listened with interest to all the local gossip that Rose and Olive Schupp were aching to tell him. At sixty, Bane remained lean and active, straight-backed at six feet tall. Only the increasing amount of white flecks in his black hair and the fine lines around his pale eyes gave away his age. From a distance, he might be taken for a man thirty years younger. Always the Dire Wolf. "So, that missing girl turned up later?"
"Oh, yes, the little vixen. She had gone with a boy she hardly knew to see some horrid 'rap battle' in Houston. A few days later, she waltzed into the family home as though no one could possibly have been worried about her," said Rose. "All that fuss for nothing."
"That's not what we wanted to tell you about, though," cut in the older of the two sisters. Olive Griffith had dried into a spare little creature with pencil-thin arms and a face like an axe blade but her eyes were bright and alert. "When you rescued our niece all those years ago, we promised to let you know if we heard about anything weird or supernatural in this area. Nothing ever did turn up."
"Whatever happened to your niece? Kirsten, right?"
"Yes, Kirsten Freiberg now," answered Rose. "She got her degree and became a pharmacist. Two years ago, she married a nice young fellow from Oklahoma, and we hear from her now and then. You know, Jeremy, she doesn't remember anything about that terrible night."
"Well, she was only three. I don't think children at that age create many lasting memories. When Quilt abducted her, he put her under with some sort of gas and she was unconscious most of the time." Bane finished the last of the ginseng tea and searched for a safe place to put the cup but ended up holding onto it. "I thought I destroyed Quilt that night, but unfortunately he has turned up several times since then."
Rose came to his rescue by taking the tea cup and blithely balancing it atop a precarious stack of ancient DVDs. "We owe you so much for bringing little Kirsten back safe and unharmed. And now, finally, we have a sighting to tell you about. Right here in Swank County. All this spring, dead bodies have been turning up with their throats cut open. Men, women, children, Mexicans, colored folk, there doesn't seem to be any pattern."
"And the bodies are mostly hidden but not well. Tucked away in the bushes, buried in shallow graves, that sort of thing," added Olive with almost a touch of glee. "It's quite inexplicable. Oh, and the most curious touch of all is that one of those little Troll dolls is found on the deceased!"
"Troll doll?" asked the Dire Wolf. "Those toys you see in dollar stores? Naked little gnomes with hair standing straight up? That IS curious."
"So the police say." Rose gave her sister a conspiratorial look. "Jeremy, the media have not covered this well at all, not at all. A sentence or two buried in the back of a newspaper, hardly a quick mention on the local news station. We feel certain a major cover-up is underway."
"It wouldn't be the first time,'" Bane agreed. "The authorities think preventing a possible panic is more important than letting the public know any danger they might be in. Tell me some details..."
For the next twenty minutes, the elderly Schupp sisters recounted as much as they could recall, often correcting each other and adding names or dates. "No, dear, that was the Monday after Easter. Remember, we bought three newspapers that day trying to learn more."
Over his career, Bane had developed a capacity for taking in verbal information and storing it accurately in his mind, no matter how long or rambling the telling might be. He had sat up straighter and, although he wasn't aware of it, a sharp glint had come into his grey eyes again. The patterns of these murders were intriguing...
Finally, he decided he had learned all these two could tell him, and he was growing eager to get on the hunt. Clapping his hands to his knees, he rose smoothly and only had to bow his head an inch to avoid touching the trailer's low ceiling. "Rose.. Olive.. thank you so much. I'm glad I stopped by to get in touch with you. I'm going to look into these killings, starting right now."
Rising themselves with some difficulty, the old women smiled at him. "I was stunned when you called to see if we would be home," said the older sister. "What in Heaven's name brought you to this forsaken corner of the state? Not much out here but tumbleweeds and dust and armadillos."
"Oh, I've been driving around the past two weeks," he answered. "Checking to see how old friends are. Looking for trouble, to be honest."
Seeing he was headed for the door, Rose took his arm and squeezed it affectionately. "I thought you had retired? Didn't you say you had closed the Dire Wolf Agency?"
One of his rare full smiles crossed Bane's face. He sighed. "I guess that was a mistake. I'm not meant for a peaceful life." As he opened the steel door and a blast of hot air rushed in, the Dire Wolf gave the two a farewell wave. "Take care. I'll let you know you what I turn up."
Several "Good-byes!" and "Come back soon!" were exchanged as he stepped out into a stifling windless afternoon and headed for his Subaru Outback. Bane was mostly relieved to get out of that crowded little trailer but he was also touched a bit by seeing Rose and Olive again. He had barely recognized them. When had he rescued the little girl from Quilt? Twenty years ago? No, thirty. 1997. Damn, he had been doing this a long time.
Starting up the car, the Dire Wolf rolled down all the windows to blast out the oven-level air with the fans before turning on the AC. He had left Manhattan sixteen days earlier, driving slowly in a southwest direction and meeting up with some of his network of observers. They all owed him either their own lives or the lives of loved ones, but he had never accepted cash rewards. Instead, he had asked that they stay alert for any Midnight War phenomena and to let him know. Many of his most important cases had begun with a phone call from one of his observers.
Easing out on the highway that led back to town, Bane remembered the one detail that had jumped out at him. Rose and Olive had considered it signficant enough to mention several times. The victims had all had their throats sliced open by some sharp curved blade, there were no tell-tale bite marks. Even so, remarkably little blood had been found at any of the murder scenes.
III.
At seven-thirty, Eben rolled into the gravel parking lot of the TAKE FIVE MOTEL. He had been driving for more than two hours and figured that he put enough distance between the family and last night's feeding. He felt hopelessly grimy and sore, and he was so sleepy that his head throbbed. Despite the way he lived on the run, there was more than three thousand dollars in small bills stowed away under the front seat. Usually, Lydia thought to snatch some beer or pretzels or packaged food from the homes they had hit, but not always. Too much blood made her groggy. Using the stolen driver's license that most resembled him, Eben checked in at the front desk and found that the grumpy clerk barely glanced at it before taking his money and sliding a set of keys over at him. Mumbling thanks, scratching the back of his head, Eben pulled the SUV over to the end of the L-shaped motel and made sure the doors were locked before stumbling into his room.
Anyone trying to steal the rusted-out rundown SUV would have to be desperate, he thought. It made him laugh to realize that the rear compartment was padlocked from inside, as well. Its occupants did not want to be disturbed. Leaving a trail of clothing behind him, he took a one-minute hot shower, turned on the AC in one window of the room and crawled between the cool dry sheets gratefully. Hair still wet and matted, he was asleep inRaytly.
Shortly before noon, a dark green Subaru Outback eased up to the railing that ran the length of the motel. Bane was still mulling over all the details about the 'Troll doll murders' that the Schupp sisters had given him. He needed to get everything organized and figure out where the killer or killers would be heading next. Certainly, the Texas police and the FBI were doing the same thing, but the Dire Wolf thought that maybe his experience with the supernatural might help him spot something that they might miss.
As he headed for the room he had rented the previous day, Bane's brisk stride faltered. He swung around to fix a suspicious stare on the SUV next to him. There was nothing remarkable about it, the roads held thousands just like it, a common Ford at least twelve years old, but his knives had given a warning. Strapped to sheaths under his sleeves were the two matched silver daggers he had been given decades earlier by Kenneth Dred. Those blades had been blessed by the immortal Eldarin themselves, and they had slain many creatures of the night. Through the thin leather sheaths, Bane had felt the knives grow hot against his forearms. Something malevolent was nearby, gralic energy turned toward the dark side which the silver daggers reacted to almost like living things.
What was going on here, he wondered. From where he stood, he took in every detail of the SUV, not only the license plates and the number of the expired inspection sticker in the windshield, but the location and size of every dent and ding and scratch. He saw the worn tread of the tires and estimated what kind of marks they would leave. Stepping a bit closer, glancing inside the cabin cluttered with empty styrofoam coffee cups and candy bar wrappers and a grubby denim jacket, Bane remembered everything so well that he would have been able to sketch it weeks later. This was automatic procedure when his interest was aroused. He had not have natural total recall, only long years of training and practice, but it amounted to the same thing. The whole process took only a few seconds and anyone watching would have thought that Bane had merely glanced idly at the vehicle as he passed.
Without breaking stride, the Dire Wolf reached inside the right front of his black sport jacket, dug out a flat metal disc the size of a quarter and peeled off the piece of paper on its back. He pressed the tracer up inside the left rear wheel well where its adhesive backing held it firmly in place. Bane continued past the SUV toward the rooms he had taken, unlocked the front door and stepped into the dim cool interior gratefully.
Before settling in, he slid open the curtains on the wide picture window that faced the parking lot and brought a chair over so he could keep watch. All his instincts were tugging at him to investigate further. The strange aura of that vehicle might have nothing to do with the murders he had come to solve. Maybe some Midnight War creature like a Skinwalker had sniffed around the SUV the night before. Maybe the owner had unknowingly been carrying around some minor talisman or artifact that seemed to be only a harmless knick-knick. That had happened before. Bane fetched a film-wrapped twelve-inch ham and cheese sub from his knapsack and a bottle of club soda, then settled back in the chair to keep an eye on that SUV while he thought the situation over.
III.
At seven-thirty, dusk had fallen although it would not be completely dark for another hour this time of year. Eben got up off the double bed, stretched and scratched and smacked his lips. He had dozed much of the day, walked down the road to come back with a paper sack of fast food, two cheeseburgers and fries, and listened to the television without paying much attention to it. He was worried about the future. How long could this arrangement go on? What would happen if he tried to get out of the deal... what would they do to him? Sometimes he felt like he was being kept as an emergency meal if the family went on the run. Sooner or later, he figured things would go sour.
Going outside, he went around to the back of the Ford and listened as the padlock inside clicked open. Cautiously, sniffing the air like a hound, Ray Middleton gave the surroundings a long suspicious stare before climbing out the back compartment. The other two followed, also acting wary. They were not only outside man-made law, they were outside the natural order of life. "Everything cool?" asked Ray.
"Yep, nothing going on here," Eben said. "I rested a bit, ate some. What's the plan for tonight, boss?"
"Let's get inside fer a bit," said the family patriarch. Ray had a bass voice that belied his gaunt appearance and sunken cheeks. He reached back into the rear of the SUV and pulled out a big black lawn bag full of clothing. "Peter, I do believe it's your turn. You see the laundry room down there at the end as well as I do. You got money on you. Do these clothes and make sure they're good and dry. We don't want no mildew, you hear."
"Aw, pop, whadda we care about stuff like that?" came the whiny complaint.
"In case we have to talk to the PO-leece, son. Cause we have to be at least presentable. If we look filthy and homeless, we'll draw attention. Each of us is gonna take a shower, too. I believe we might well be goin' to a honkytonk tonight."
"Hell, at least that sounds like fun," Peter admitted. He hoisted the bag of dirty clothing up across one shoulder and starting toward the laundry room. "Some music would be all right, even if we can't get drunk no more."
"Come on, you two," Ray said, still looking around the parking lot. "Something doesn't feel right around here. I can't put my finger on it..."
"Yer instincts are pretty good," Lydia said. "But I don't see nothing out of the ordinary."
They stepped inside and Ray sniffed around some more before going into the bathroom. A minute later, rushing water could be heard. Going to a chair facing the TV, Eben saw the evening news was about some train derailment in Atlantic City, New Jersey and his attention fled away. Then Lydia squeezed in next to him on the chair, one arm around his neck.
"I've been remembering my old life," she said. "It makes me sad, you know? I don't get horny at all anymore."
"Your body ain't producing those hormones, I guess," he said with increasing discomfort. "You said you three don't feel cold or heat either."
"No. We can walk through a blizzard and hardly notice. Reckon some things are lost forever." She nuzzled up closer and grinned at his face, almost touching it with hers. "I tell you what, buddy. If you want, you can mess around with me during the day. Do whatever you want. I won't mind at all. You might as well have SOME fun, and I remember how boys used to go completely nuts over my body."
Eben had no idea what to say. He could feel the soft weight of her breasts against him and the gleam of white teeth in a wicked smile was tempting. But suddenly he felt sick. Last night, she had murdered a complete stranger. She had helped her father and her brother kill dozens of innocent people in the year he had known them, and not only that, they drank the blood of their victims...! He wondered if his hair was standing up as he stared at her smile and imagined that mouth sucking at an open wound, guzzling down hot salty blood. It wasn't her fault, he figured, she had to do that to survive. But still it made him nauseous to picture the scene.
"I don't see how that'd be right," he answered at last. "It seems, well, going against the strongest taboos, more than doin' it with your sister. I'm not saying you're not sexy, because you sure are but..."
An unexpected icy glitter came into her blue eyes and her voice was ominously low. "It's cause my skin is cold, I bet. I know I'm at room temperature. So what? Come on, Eben, I wanna feel like I'm still a woman."
"I want to, Lydia, I surely do. And I'll be honest, I've had daydreams about you. Maybe I'm just being shy out of nowhere."
At that moment, the bathroom door swung open to release a gust of hot steamy air. His pale bony middle wrapped with a towel, Ray Middleton strode out into the motel room and threw himself down on the couch. "Soon as Peter comes back with the laundry, I'll put on some clean clothes. My whiskers don't grow no more, neither him nor me have had to shave since we Turned."
"Same for my legs," chuckled Lydia, easing up off Eben and getting to her feet. "That's a chore I don't miss. I s'pose I'll be in there a while, Eben. I brought some brightener for my hair. You need to go in before I make myself byoo-tiful?"
Eben laughed, as much in relief at having the tension between Lydia and himself broken as for anything else. "Naw, I'm good, honey. Do what you do best."
Pacing back and forth in a room two doors down, Jeremy Bane had seen three people emerge from the SUV where they had been locked in without windows or fresh air all through a muggy June day in Texas. Now it was getting dark when the creatures of the night would be out and about. His fears were confirmed.
IV.
Earlier that day, Bane had phoned out for a pepperoni pizza with a double side order of meatballs and a 64-ounce bottle of club soda. All of this had been promptly consumed. His enhanced speed meant a high-charged metabolism, resulting in general restlessness and appetite enough for three men his size. Even though he had hardly sat still, making phone calls and checking with his various sources as he roamed around the hotel room like a real wolf, Bane had kept a watch on that SUV in the parking lot. The streetlamps by the highway came on at dusk, the hotel floodlights illuminated the big sign that offered ROOMS AVAILABLE - CABLE TV - AIR CONDITIONING. That was when the man in the room two doors to his left had gone out to greet the three people who evidently had spent the day inside the rear of that Ford. A middle-aged man, a younger man and a blonde woman. None of them were well dressed or neatly groomed. In fact, it was easily to believe from their appearance that they had been living in the back of that Ford for some time.
The Dire Wolf fought down an urge to rush outside and confront them. He was sure they were the Undead he had sought, but this was not the right time nor place. He knew he had to catch them ready to strike before he could take action without fear of being proven wrong. From its clip on his belt, he unsnapped the Link and activated it. Although modern smartphones were catching up to the Links, the Trom technology was still more advanced. On the screen appeared a pale green grid,and a single yellow blip blinked on and off rapidly. Bane returned the device to his belt, went to use the bathroom while he had a chance and came back out in time to see the old Ford back up and swing around to head out of the parking lot. Finally, the hunt was underway.
He had been wondering about the odds regarding his having taken rooms at the very same motel in all of Texas where the vampires had chosen to hole up during the daylight hours. It had to be mere coincidence. He had never been able to develop even the most rudimentary pyschic abilities. The Teachers of Tel Shai had given up on coaching him in that area, concluding that Bane was entirely too stubborn and pragmatic for any sort of mystic perception. So there was no way he had been drawn here by the Undead. He decided it was only chance and at least it made up for all the times disastrous strokes of bad luck had made his missions immensely more difficult and dangerous.
The SUV had headed west on the highway as he watched. There was no need to worry about losing it. The tiny tracers had a reliable range of three hundred miles. He glanced around the hotel room before leaving, as was his lifelong custom. The single knapsack next to the bed held only spare clothes and mundane toiletries. All his specialized gear was locked in his car. Surveying the area, Bane saw no sign that anyone was watching from one of the rooms as he unlocked the trunk of his Subaru. Satchels and metal cases were carefully secured with straps so that they would not move no matter what maneuvers his driving entailed. Digging around, the Dire Wolf came up with a canvas bag three feet deep and checked its contents. The faintest smile flickered across his face in the gloom as he reminisced for a second about this was some of his oldest equipment, presented to him by Kenneth Dred on one of their earliest cases, when they had first started working together. Bane had only been twenty years old then....
With a sudden snort at himself, he shook off the temptation to think about the past. He needed focus and concentration. Getting behind the wheel, the Dire Wolf took up the pursuit one more time. He drove off into a sullen oppressive night in search of deadly enemies of the living.
V.
Saturday was Peanut Night at the GLORY BOUND bar. Three open barrels of peanuts had been set out on the floor at intervals and by eleven o'clock, the floor was so littered with the discarded shells that the patrons found it hilarious how loud the crunching was wherever they walked. In recent years, a big hand-lettered sign in the dirt parking lot warned of the presence of peanuts to anyone approaching. At the open door through which raucous laughter and energetic music poured, the burly man who took the cover charge also delivered a set speech and made everyone entering state out loud that he or she did not have a peanut allergy.
The GLORY BOUND was packed. Eben and Peter had managed to get a chance of the pool table, but neither was particularly good at the game. Eben only allowed himself one beer; ironically, he was the only member of the family who felt the effects of alcohol but he was also the driver and so could not afford to indulge. He did enjoy the old-fashioned country music from the music and checking out the young women in their tight jeans and cowboy boots. Ray stayed near the bar, sipping his drink and watching the crowd as if expecting an attack any second.
As for Lydia, she was adoring all the attention she got, accepting free drinks but brushing off attempts by men to get to know her better. The ego boost of being pursued suited her but she felt no sexual urges anymore. None of them did, any more than they craved solid food or than they could tell if it was hot or cold outside. They weren't alive.
At midnight, she accepted the offer by three young men to step outside for a cigarette. She hadn't smoked since she had Turned and it suddenly interested her to find out if she would feel anything if she took a few puffs. The men were in their late twenties and at least two of them worked at some place called BEST BODY REPAIRS judging by the patches on their slate-grey work shirts. As she passed Ray on her way out, she made a smoking gesture to reassure him but received only an irritated glare in return. She didn't care. She had always done as she pleased and her father had always grumbled but put up with it.
The battered old Ford SUV was parked on the far end of the lot, facing outward. Lydia headed straight for it and the three men tagged along behind her. The youngest one had a mullet, his black hair short on the front and sides but long over his collar. He'd already dug a nearly empty pack of Kools from his shirt pocket and lit one as soon as he could get it in his mouth. Turning, Lydia leaned back up against the rear of the vehicle and accepted a cigarette and a light. She knew the lustful looks she was getting from these men but she also saw that they weren't going to try anything. Not yet, anyway. Give them another few hours and some more drinks. Lydia placed the filter end between her lips and inhaled with a conscious effort. She only took a breath when she wanted to talk, otherwise her body didn't need air and the breathing reflex had died out along with many other autonomic functions.
Two of the men were laughing and saying how they had been waiting all week to blow off some steam like this. One said he wanted to dance all night and the other cackled, commenting on how the way he danced was bound to scare all the girls away. The one with the mullet was watching Lydia and seemed puzzled.
She was disappointed because she not only couldn't taste the cigarette smoke, it had no effect on her. That figured. A wave of unreasonable melancholy swelled up inside her. Sometimes she fooled herself into thinking she still could enjoy normal activities and then her condition slammed itself clearly into her awareness. Lydia held the cigarette up and regarded the glowing red end with as much sorrow as her lessened emotions could muster. Faintly, she realized that the guy was talking to her.
"That's funny," he said. "Aren't you going to blow any of that smoke out?"
Making herself exhale, the Undead released a white plume into the night air. She had forgotten.
"Man, that's the longest I ever saw anyone hold a breath," the young man said.
"We're heading back in, Owen," said one of his friends. "You coming?"
"Stay out here and talk a while," Lydia broke in. "It's too crowded in there right now."
"Sure, I'd like that," Owen said cheerfully. "You guys go ahead."
"Haw. Have fun." As the two of them started back toward the lights and music, one called back, "If'n you can't be good, be careful."
Her cigarette had gone out. Handing it to the man, Lydia said, "Here. Thanks but I guess I lost the craving for them things."
"You're better off, believe me. Listen, honey, I'm not like those other guys in there. I just broke up with a girlfriend of two years and I didn't think it was gonna hit me this way. Maybe we really can talk for a while?"
Lydia found herself staring at his throat, sensing where the big carotid artery went up bringing oxygen-rich red blood to the brain. It would be so easy to lure him around behind the SUV out of sight, to yank his head back and plunge her fangs deep.... But she wasn't supposed to feed tonight. They wouldn't need blood for almost a week after how much they had taken the night before. It was only the primal urge calling to her.
"Sweetie, you okay?" Owen asked. "You been staring at me with this expression like you're a hunnerd miles away."
"I was thinking," she mumbled. To hell with what her father and brother had told her about staying out of trouble. Who knew what was going to happen to them? Any night might be their last. She put a smile on her face and reached out to take him by the upper arm. "Come on, let's go sit out of sight and you can tell me what's on your mind."
"Thanks. I believe I will," said Owen. He walked with her over to the front of the old Ford, where only scrubby dried grass and bushes reached to where a line of trees showed in the gloom. He stopped short as a stranger swung around to face them. The newcomer could not be clearly seen this far from the lights of GLORY BOUND but he seemed to be a middle-aged man dressed all in black, watching them with a cold calm stare that reminded Owen of his own cat watching a little bird on the lawn.
"Whadda YOU want?" he demanded. "What's wrong with you, sneakin' around in the dark like that?"
"You've heard about the murders in this area?" asked Bane quietly.
"Oh My God. You're the Troll Doll Killer. Get behind me, sweetheart, he ain't going to hurt you without goin' through me first."
Moving closer, the Dire Wolf held up his leather billfold, showing his New York Private Investigator License and his consultant card with the FBI's Department 21 Black. "Here. Use your lighter to get a look. You're in danger, son, but not from me."
In the next few seconds, Bane received one of the biggest surprises he had received in years. His training and experience told him that this kid would work up gradually to fight, talking tough and then shoving him in the chest with an open hand before actually starting the clash. Instead, Owen tossed his cigarette off to one side and instantly threw a short mean left hook. Even taken off guard like that, Bane drew his head back and whipped up a palm block that should have slapped the punch past him... but instead, that fist cracked solidly against the side of his face. The Dire Wolf lurched back a step. Even before that swing was completed and Owen could try another punch, Bane had set himself up and driven a straight left fist right to the solar plexus. All the air rushed out of Owen's lungs and his nerves went blank for a second. The young man fell to his hands and knees and vomited.
For the next few minutes, Owen would be preoccupied with trying to catch his breath while retching at the same time. He had taken a few drinks too many and had been close to throwing up in any case. Bane was still shocked that the kid's punch had connected like that. His block had been a tiny fraction of an inch too late, maybe a bit too low and the untrained civilian had tagged him on the cheek. Bane felt an unfamiliar dismay. Maybe he was finally starting to get old, to lose his nearly perfect combat edge. Age happened to everyone but he hadn't seriously expect it to affect him.
But these thoughts only occupied him for a second. As soon as Owen was kneeling and heaving, Bane wheeled around to face Lydia. "You're the real threat here. Aren't you?"
The blonde woman had not moved as she took in the sudden flurry of violence that had taken place. "Who are you anyway? Are you a cop?"
"No. You should know that I already picked the lock on your car here and had a good look inside. A plastic bag filled with a dozen of those little Troll Dolls that have been found at each killing. Lots of bloody rags tucked away, DNA testing on them will be interesting. Back window painted over so not a trace of sunlight can get in. Enough evidence."
Lydia grinned as her upper canines extended down to her full length. "It 'pears to me that you've found out too much for your own good, buddy.Come here. Let me show you something."
But Owen interrupted, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand and getting unsteadily to his feet. "Get away from her, grandpa. I can take whatever you can dish out."
"Baby, it's all right," Lydia cooed. "You go inside with your friends. I'll be coming along in a few minutes. This man has some legal stuff he has to tell me. It's okay, really."
"Well.. If you say so. I guess. But I'll be back out if you don't show, and I'll be bringing Mel and Joey with me. This ain't over, mister." With exaggerated determination, Owen stepped around the stinking puddle he had left on the ground and marched back to GLORY BOUND.
The two hunters of the night waited until the young man was nearly at the bar door before moving toward each other again. "You were about to feed on him, and all he wanted was some consoling converation," Bane said. Reaching behind him, he stuck his hand into the open flap of the canvas satchel he wore over one shoulder. "Now he has a chance at a long and hopefully normal life. More than you do."
"I didn't ask for a sermon," Lydia hissed and she rushed at the stranger like a cat pouncing. But this time Bane acted with precision and skill. He swept her legs out from under her with a low kick, and as she fell hard onto her back, he dropped to one knee and slammed the sharpened ash stake right under her left breast. She didn't make any noise, not even a gasp. Her fingers curled up and then went limp again. Standing, the Dire Wolf glared around but no one was in sight. He had to act quickly. Already, the cadaver was decaying visibly. Bane swung open the back door of the SUV, hoisted up the body and tossed it inside, closing the door again with relief. Sometimes the Undead fell apart completely when they were staked but apparently this Lydia Middleton had only Turned a few years earlier.
Bane watched the GLORY BOUND bar. Four patrons were leaning up against a big Explorer, laughing and yelling over the music from within. At least Owen hadn't raised a general alarm. He saw a tall thin man come out in the open and start moving across the parking lot straight toward where the SUV waited. This would be the brother Pete.
V.
When Pete Middleton saw the three Living return without Lydia, he had not waited to ask what was going on. He had already been standing near the door and had immediately slipped through and marched quickly across the parking lot. Damnation, his sister was always so much trouble. But, considering his father's temper, it was better not to say anything just yet. The old man was likely to gather everyone up and make a run for it at the slightest complication and Pete was enjoying getting out. There was still enough Human character left in him that he wanted to hear jokes and watch the sports channel on the TV mounted over the bar for a while.
No, he would drag Lydia back inside and try to keep things quiet. When he neared the SUV, though, his senses flared up with the predatory instincts of the Undead. There was a breathing person nearby. Had his sister found another victim? Would they have to hide a fresh corpse and hit the road immediately? Why couldn't she behave and follow the rules once in a while? Pete swung around the back of the SUV and saw that the rear door was partly open. That was strange.
Seeing perfectly well in the dark, the creature yanked the door open and found Lydia's body lying there. With a stake through her heart! Someone knew about them. Someone was prepared. A vampire hunter. Pete whirled around in time to feel unbearable searing pain tear across his neck and chest. It burned worse than anything he had felt when he was alive. He had a momentary glimpse of a man in black who wielded two shining blades in his hands, then even the semblance of animation fled his corpse and he fell to the dirt without trying to catch himself.
Bane gave the silver daggers a glance and saw they were clean before returning them to their sheaths. The blades were not large and the hilts were short knobs so that the knives would fit on his forearms, but that silver had been ensorcelled by the immortal Eldarin themselves ages ago. Against the creatures of the night, they were the most potent weapons he had ever found. He knew that this vampire had been destroyed. Still, best to make absolutely sure. The Dire Wolf lifted the body up by the shirt collar and belt, tossed it into the back of the Ford and turned it over on its back. He placed a stake point down over the heart, lifted his other hand and slammed his fist down to drive the wooden shaft deep. There, that had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped. He straightened up and was tackled by a solid mass of unliving muscle and bone that smashed him down into the dirt.
It was Ray, the father, out to see what was going on. Even as his shoulders smacked to the ground, Bane had driven his forearm up across the Undead's throat to keep those fangs away from him. He rolled to his left, leaped up and flashed out a front snap kick which caught Ray right in the middle of the face. The steel-capped boots Bane wore would have killed any normal Human with that impact but the vampire father ignored it and was on top of him again, clutching at his throat. The Dire Wolf settled his weight and drummed twenty full power punches to the torso, alternating left and right, cracking bone wherever he connected. Although he couldn't feel pain, Ray was forced back a few inches by the relentless attack. Bane swung sideways, drew his knee up to his chest and crashed a straight side kick that hurled the Undead back off his feet entirely.
"Where are they? Where are my kids?" hissed Ray through a contorted mouth. He was up again in a crouch, fingers curled into claws strong as a hawk's talons.
Bane did not answer. He had no intention of getting into a prolonged brawl with a vampire if he could help it. He crossed his arms over his chest and straightened them out with a silver dagger in each hand. Even in the dim light, those blades gleamed brilliantly with a blue sheen brighter than reflected light could explain. Caught between a killing urge and deep fear of that silver, Ray froze into position and could only snarl and move his hands in small futile circles. The Dire Wolf saw his opening and lunged in like a fencer, sliding the left hand dagger directly into the Undead's chest. But Ray was not instantly destroyed. He seized Bane's other wrist and yanked that arm out straight with a cruelty that dislocated the shoulder. Despite himself, the Dire Wolf could not help dropping one dagger as his arm went numb. The other blade had come free of Ray's body in the exchange.
The father of the vampire clan kicked up for Bane's crotch. Raising one knee, the Dire Wolf blocked that foot but it struck his thigh instead. He was off balance for an instant and Ray backhanded him across the face. For the second time that night, Bane took a blow to the head that he hdn't deflected or dodged, and cold rage exploded in him. Even with his right arm hanging limp, the Dire Wolf leaped in and slashed back and forth with the silver dagger in his left arm to rip open deep gouges in his enemy's torso. A wheezing gasp escaped the vampire, then the body dropped face down as if dropped from a height.
Chest heaving, Bane caught hold of himself. He wasn't doing too well in these clashes. Was he only having an off night or was he genuinely past his peak? There was no time to worry about it. He had to hurry in case anyone came out of the bar and caught sight of this activity. As he calmed down, he saw for the first time a grimy-looking man holding a broken two-by-four in both hands. When the man realized Bane was glaring at him, he dropped the wood and held up both hands. "Whoa, whoa, hold it. I give up. Take me into custody. Don't kill me, mister."
"You stay put and keep quiet," the Dire Wolf ordered. He tucked the silver dagger awkwardly into his belt, bent to pick up the other one and walked over to a solid oak tree that spread over that end of the parking lot. Bane adjusted his dangling arm, set himself and slammed up hard against the tree to get his shoulder back into its socket. All his training wasn't much help at ignoring the pain. His hand still had no feeling in it, but he could flex his arm now. In a few minutes, he expected he would be able to use it again. Completely furious over the way this case had gone despite its success, Bane stared at the living man who had been helping these creatures. Something in those gray eyes made the man flinch and draw back as if expecting to get hit by lightning any second.
VI.
Limping heavily, rotating his right shoulder as sensation returned to it, Bane doggedly made his way back to the Ford where Eben Caldwell waited. The soreness was taking longer than usual to vanish. Could his enhanced healing factor from the Tagra tea be wearing down as his body acclimated itself? Maybe one cup each morning wasn't enough. He'd have to go to the Order and ask Teacher Chael about this. He hadn't been at Tel Shai enough lately anyway. At the old SUV, he found Eben leaned up against the front fender with a terrified expression.
"I suppose you're gonna kill me too?" the man asked as if wondering something minor. "Go ahaid. After what I saw you do tonight, I know that I sure as hell can't fight you, No, and not run fast enough to get away neither."
Opening the driver side door, the Dire Wolf levered himself up onto the seat and could not repress a sigh. He left the door open, sitting with his hands resting on his thighs. "I can't execute anyone in cold blood, Eben. I just can't. It's not in me. But it does leave a problem regarding what to do with you."
Watching the narrow feral face so close to his own, Eben hesitated to speak but finally said, "You know, I never killed any of those people myself. Never even tied anyone up or seen the bodies."
"That's not going to help," Bane said. "You're an accesory. I took a picture of you and ran face recognition through the Texas DMV. That's how I know your name. For the past year, you've been on your little 'Vampire Road Trip' across the Southwest. You drove those monsters to the mass murder scenes, you hid and protected them during the day. You're as guilty as they are, Eben. If they were ordinary armed holdup men, I'd turn you over to the FBI and testify in court myself. But I can't do that either."
"Because of what they were?"
"Of course. No judge would even consider hearing charges of aiding and abetting vampires. Seriously. No prosecutor would listen to the presentation. I'd be charged with wasting the court's time and face a stiff fine or even some time behind bars, depending. I suppose I could call in Department 21 Black or the Mandate. Those guys would interrogate you and they're not gentle in their methods. I'll be honest, you'd never be seen again after they learned what they wanted from you."
"Ack. Government secret police. Geez, I don't want that. So, Mr Bane. You don't wanna kill me and you don't wanna turn me in. Mebbe you could see your way to let me go? It's not like anything like this would ever happen again. Right?"
The Dire Wolf turned those unsettling pale eyes on the broken man standing within arm's reach. "No. I won't even consider it. The best estimate is that your Undead clan in there killed more than a hundred innocent people in the past fourteen months. Yes, they had to drink blood to survive so you could make a case that they had no choice. That doesn't matter. All those men and women and children also had a right to live, and your friends were an unnatural threat that couldn't be allowed to exist. Honestly, I think you're worse than they were because you're a living Human and you decided of your free will to go along with them."
"So. Whatcha going to do, then?"
"I'll think of something, I always do." Bane turned his body inward on the seat and pulled his legs in. "Get in the passenger seat, Eben."
As the man complied and climbed in, the Dire Wolf took the keys he had confiscated earlier and started the engine. "It'd simplify things for me if you attacked me. Try to grab my gun. Or if you made a run for it. I might feel justified in using deadly force then."
"Nah, I ain't that crazy. Where we going?"
"I saw a likely spot about ten miles south of here." Bane backed the SUV up, scowling at how rough the motor was running and how the brakes squeaked. He swung around and drove slowly through the parking lot along the access road back to the highway. Only that boy Owen had seen him, and Bane thought that the darkness had been enough that the kid wouldn't be able to provide a useful description. Aside from that, all that anyone at the GLORY BOUND bar might remember was that a moderately hot blonde had showed up for a few hours with her father and brother, and then they had taken off. Nothing remarkable. None of the patrons shooting pool or arguing sports would ever suspect that those three individuals were being hauled away in the back of an SUV with wooden stakes in their chests.
VIII.
On a deserted stretch between two towns, Bane slowed and turned off the road completely to skid down a steep embankment into a dry gully. The SUV did not entirely turn over but settled at an angle with the driver side up in the air. Unfastening his seat belt, the Dire Wolf swung the door open and nimbly climbed out to drop a few feet to the hardened dirt. "Come on," he snapped at Eben. "Get out before I decide to leave you in there."
As soon as the man had scrambled his way out, Bane pointed down the gulley. "Start walking that way about a hundred yards, then wait for me. Don't make me chase you down."
"What are you gonna do anyway? You deliberately drove off the road up there!"
"Get going." Seeing Eben start trudging away along the gully floor, Bane reached into a seam at the inside back of his jacket and extracted three flat discs the size of silver dollars. They were wrapped in tough plastic which was difficult to get off. Once he had them exposed, the discs were revealed to have a contact patch on one side and an adhesive strip on the other. He knelt by the askew SUV and fastened one disc to the underside of the gas tank. Then a second disc on the hood, and the third was placed inside the rear compartment where the three corpses were beginning to stink as if they had been dead for a week. He had not had to use the Trom incendiaries in years and wasn't thrilled at the prospect now but there was a good reason he always carried a few when he was on a case. Bane took a deep breath, quickly went around and depressed the contact on each disc until there was a click. Then he swung around and loped up the gulley toward where Eben had been watching.
"Let's move. See those trees up ahead? Try to crouch down behind them."
They missed getting in the shelter of the trees by a bare second. Three blindly bright white glares dazzled them even facing away, then the gasoline exploded and a fireball shot upward with a dull thumping boom. Foul black smoke billowed into the sultry air. Bane had dropped his hands and knees, feeling the slap of intense heat across his back. He rose again and found Eben had fallen completely limp from the jolt.
"Come on, you're okay," he told the man. "We still have a long walk back to my car."
"I know what you did. That was thermite, right? My cousin used that stuff in demolition."
"Not exactly thermite but close," Bane said. He watched the flames as they began to ebb slightly but gave signs of continuing to burn for a while. The SUV had sagged into a shapeless mass. Especially important was that the rear compartment seemed demolished. He didn't see how investigators would ever reconstruct anything useful, especially if they weren't even thinking of finding evidence of vampirism. The Trom incendiary compound left only tiny trace elements not associated with accelerants.
"I guess they're really gone now," Eben sighed. "Lydia, Pete, Ray. I know they didn't really care about me. I was useful to them, nothing more. But they was as close to a family as I knew since my Maw died when I was fifteen."
"Don't try to make me feel sorry for you," Bane said. He smacked Eben hard enough on the back of the head that the man staggered. "You helped them in a series of mass murders. Think of all those innocent people. Keep walking. I figure we'll get to where I left my car before dawn."
"I have to ask. I have to. What's going to happen to me?"
"Honestly, I think I should have knocked you out and left you in the Ford," Bane growled. "But I have an idea. I need to contact a guy named Galvan or maybe Sulak if I can't find Galvan. They'll take you to a place more distant than anything on any map you'll ever see. It's called Androval. And I guarantee you'll stay there. You won't be mistreated, you'll be fed and clothed and sheltered. But you'll be laboring on their estates the rest of your life."
"Huh. I guess that don't sound too bad. It's not like I haven't worked hard all my life already."
"It's better than you deserve," the Dire Wolf told him. "Maybe I'm getting too soft for this Midnight War."
10/22/2018
