Graeme > Books: vampires‎ (91)

I approached the pub doors.

The bouncer lifted his right hand, palm forward. “This is a private function. There’s no way your getting in dressed in that weird costume.”

I spread my hands wide, “I’m a mascot for the series.”

He consulted a list held with his left hand and shook his head. “Nup. No mascot on the list.”

“Hang on a sec,” I moved around and read the list over his bulging shoulders. I stabbed a name on the list with my forefinger. “There I am.”

He squinted at the name. “What? ... Olgoi? Olga? Olga Kharkhoi?”

“Your pronunciation is crap, but yeah … that’s me.”

“You don’t sound like an Olga to me?”

“You’d be surprised by how many people would agree with you, but ...” I spread my hands wide and shrugged.

He looked at me with hard eyes. “What’s the password?”

There’s a password? “Ahh … hypersonic?”

His eyes narrowed. “You’re guessing.”

“Of course not!” I lied indignantly.

He frowned, and the corners of his mouth turned down at the corners like he’d just bitten into a particularly sour lemon. He looked me up and down dismissively, and then reluctantly waved me through.

I was in. I flicked my gaze around the interior of the bar. Everyone except Chloe Armitage was there. The hubbub of voices slowed to a stop and everyone stared at me for a long moment. I was almost about to fidget nervously when they collectively shrugged or otherwise dismissed me. My clever disguise worked perfectly. Everyone saw me as belonging to the group. I had a free pass to mingle amongst them. So, mingle I did, by approaching the bar and ordering a beer.

I found myself standing next to Peter Lamb, James Haley and Tamsah al Ramil. Tamsah said, looking around the bar, “So, this is an Irish pub in Boston. I think I’ll get a pint of Guinness.”

James looked at him askance. “Kilkenny is better. Try that.”

Another big fellow edged into the conversation. “Kilkenny better than Guinness? Them’s fighting words.”

“Oh, hi Luke,” James said. “You still playing Boston Police detectives?”

“No. But I’ve signed up for a gig as an occult PI in an upcoming series.”

“Not with Rodaughan, I hope.”

“Yeah, the same guy.”

“You gotta be kidding me!”

Luke stepped back, grinned, and slotted a double gunshot finger expression at James. “Gotcha! Signature move. Chalk one up Team Walker.”

A posh English voice said from across the room, “Did someone say, ‘Team Walker.’”

James glanced dismissively at the Englishman sitting in a booth by himself, then looked back at Luke and said, “Aw! Damn it!”

“You owe me a drink!”

“Nah!” Peter said. “Don’t worry about that. I’m covering the bar.” He fished out a fat bill fold and slapped half-a-dozen hundred-dollar bills on the counter.

“Gee, you're flush,” Tamsah said.

“Well,” Peter said. “This has always only been a part-time gig for me. I’ve been working over in the Marvel Universe at Stark Industries as an engineer. They have an excellent bonus plan. However,” he leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “There’s a rumour that DC are looking to pick me up to play the ‘Steam Crusader,’ a series about a super-strong engineer that builds a nuclear-powered steam-shooting giant mecha to fight crime with. Yeah … just waiting for the green light on that one.”

The others crowded around Peter, offering their hopes and congratulations. I edged aside, somewhat shocked. I always considered Peter a full-time character. Hadn’t I paid them all enough attention?

I shook my head and moved through the crowd. In front of me, Cornelius Crane sat at a table with Dalien Morte, Boris Hartmann, Ramin Kain and his offsider Samuel Luther. Cornelius was complaining about the dearth of good villain roles.

He pounded the table with a pale fist-

A siren wailed. Red-blue lights strobed against the windows. People looked up, their heads swivelling around. A loud voice called out in front of the pub, “Hey! This is a private-”

The front doors exploded inward. The bouncer flying backward through the air before landing and sliding along the floor. Everyone dodged out of the way as he slid to a crumpled heap against the back wall.

All eyes went to the entrance.

She strode into the bar room, dressed in an outfit equal parts glossy black leather, red chiffon, and raw sex appeal. She pulled to a stop, tossed her luxuriant head of raven-black hair and locked her vivid blue-eyed gaze upon me.

My mouth filled with dry cotton while ice curdled in the pit of my stomach. A whispered murmur chorused around the room, “Chloe!”

She cocked her head as if listening, lifted her right forefinger vertical and said, “Wait!”

Everyone waited.

A young girl, dressed in Gothic black, with long straight dark hair walked into the bar like she owned the place, a troop of tall cadaverous manlike creatures, dressed in heavy dark coats followed her in.

The party goers split apart, making way for these … vampires!

My heart sank. It was Ludmilla from the Guild of Vampire Characters with her enforcers.

Chloe strode over to me and tapped me in the chest with a stiff finger. “Dressing up as a purple worm will not save you.”

I frowned. “Et tu-"

“Geez,” Chloe remarked over her shoulder at the vampires. “The cliché is strong with this one.”

Ludmilla lifted a vellum scroll and read from it. “Graeme Rodaughan, you are hereby charged with underpayment of a vampire character.”

“What? I paid everyone the statutory amount!”

Ludmilla stared at me. “A vampire playing a vampire character attracts a 17% bonus per night.”

“What? But-” I looked at Chloe. She stared back at me ‘mesmerizingly.’ The penny dropped along with my jaw. I’d been under her spell from the beginning.

Ludmilla called out. “Pay up or else!”

The vampire enforcers leered at me while Chloe raised an expectant eyebrow.

“A 17% bonus? Over the last ten years? I’m bankrupt!”

“So be it!” Ludmilla declared.

Chloe stepped aside while the enforcers rushed me. Hands like iron took hold of me, lifted me from the floor and carted me from the bar room and into the street outside. An armored semitrailer waited in the street. Blue and red lights strobed from its roof. The enforcers bundled me into the back of the trailer and slammed the doors shut with a loud clang.

The interior of the trailer lay in a deep gloom broken by thin strips of wan street light cutting through high vents in the walls. Something stirred near the front of the chamber. I was not alone in here.

A more than human voice whispered in the dark, “Fresh meat hides, fancy suit no shield, tasty snack!”

I breathed a single hoarse word, “Gullette!”

The party was over.