B00724AICC EBOK (6 page)

They had killed and tortured a poor rich fellow and were disheartened when all his credit cards had been equipped with security chips. The amount of money that had been potentially available to them had them salivating for a time, until they discovered that the numbers provided were incorrect. Even under torture that well-heeled fellow had provided the brothers with false information, and Harris had stabbed Tanner in the shoulder over it. Harris had stated repeatedly before killing him that the rich fat guy hadn’t been telling the truth; he could see it those rich blue eyes.

The brothers had graduated to pushing drugs years ago at around the age of sixteen, but they were now up against a gang that had taken over their area, and although they were robust individuals never inclined to back away from a fight, they were also aware that they couldn’t battle twenty Chinese thugs. The first warning had been heeded, lest they end up in the East River with cement blocks tied to them. But they had come up with a devious plan that was sure to get them a shit-load of money. They knew that everyone had a definite breaking point, especially when it came to family. It was a definite weak point in almost everyone’s shield. The rich were not easy targets, but with their daughters and sons in danger their wallets would open and the money would be spit much like the government printing money.

It had already been considered that it could be a regular cash flow that would put daily smiles on their gruff faces, and perhaps the only plot necessary to make them rich beyond imagining. They were encouraged that it was one of their finest ideas that they had ever originated. The more it was contemplated the prettier it looked. It had all the elements of the perfect crime. The brothers were also cognisant of stories about the rich buying their way into the world of biters, and they were so looking forward to the absolute carnage that they could cause that it was delicious food for their everyday fantasies. The plan was to strike small towns and to literally suck the life out of them. They salivated at the amount of sheer terror the two could imbue with such strength at their disposal. They would purchase their way into the world of vampires.

Thirteen-year-old Shenna Fisher walked home from school as she didn’t reside very far from it, and she had convinced her parents, especially her father who was a retired senator, that it was safe enough. She had red hair and was a ball of energy with her Justin Bieber backpack. Her father was away fishing bass on Lake Tohopekaliga south of Orlando Florida and having a great time. She thought she noticed the old Ford Taurus several days in a row parked on the street with an unkempt fellow and a handsome well attired man always slumped in the front seat. There was a peculiar vibe every time she noticed that Ford, though it was probably a product of her overactive imagination. She ran past the vehicle into the red brick house with her math book in hand knowing that her mother would be home in less than an hour.

Shenna turned and was immediately fearful of the two men that stood there. She screamed but they were on her in less than a second. They knocked her down and taped her mouth. They rolled her into a carpet and Tanner sat on the girl. Harris went out to the car and watched and waited until a clear path from the house to the trunk of his car was available. They were never happier than when they were in the process of committing a crime. It made the brothers feel as though they were untouchable, and that had been the case.

Harris strolled into the living room where Tanner was sitting on the old brown leather sofa, which was cracked from years of abuse. He told him that the girl was secured and clapped his hands together with force. A little dance was performed at the idea of the riches that was to come. Tanner looked proud as he nodded. He was finishing the last beer. He placed the empty bottle down hard on the coffee table and then waved the note at Harris and commenced to read it aloud:

Two millions dollars in untraceable cash

Or every night when the clock turns to eight

Your lovely daughter will experience some

Good old fashioned rape

The two shared a high five. They were so proud of the note that they could burst. “That is on the nose. Every damn night as the clock gets close to eight, they’ll be mentally tortured and they’ll have to give us the money. That is sooooo tight!”

“
I know,” Tanner agreed. “Genius writing if I do say so myself.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

IN A DILAPIDATED HOTEL off I-95, four biters with their hands on the hilts of their Japanese Wakizashi swords surrounded Thelma Gordon on the stained queen sized bed. The nineteen inch blades were not to be utilized this night. A single roach climbed up the wall behind her and stopped, almost as if observing the goings-on. The room had a slight odour of pesticide that obviously hadn’t done its job. It was quiet as they waited for a response. She was disillusioned with things in general and her mangled life in particular. Thelma wasn’t frightened of the vampires, although she knew she would become so if she was to face the end at their fangs. She rubbed the back of her own neck and was aware of their prying eyes; she started to scratch. Their tactics of intimidation had not been as effective as they had anticipated.

The television was on CNN but the box was so old that the anchor Wolf Blitzer was barely recognisable; he may as well have been an alien selling the latest ray gun. The bible that came with the room was in perfect condition, as if it had never been touched, yet someone had placed it beside the box. Once Thelma had been a beautiful and talented pianist, having been quite adept on the keyboard, but those days were long gone and now seemed to belong to someone else. She wouldn’t recognize herself in the mirror if she could go back twenty years. Her facial attractiveness was perceptible if one looked hard enough and with some imagination, beyond the scars, dirt and melted and matted brown hair. Her sunken eyes were sad things to behold. Thelma had fallen asleep with the curling iron. She had multiple scars on her left cheek from a long ago battle with a lady of the evening, and had been held down by the pimp and forced to endure the indignity of the olive wood handled Italian switchblade. She was in her early forties but could easily pass for a senior.

Thelma was almost always high on drugs, and this night was no exception.

Matt and Joshua stood on one side of the bed, with Luke and Noah on the other, all dressed in dark suits as if they were about to head out to the office. Luke cracked his knuckles out of habit but no one seemed to mind; he had mesmerising blue eyes that the ladies found irresistible and inch long brown hair. But the foursome waited patiently for the leader of the group to arrive. They could do nothing without his express permission. They had failed at extracting information and waited impatiently. Thelma lay prone in her bra and panties with a look of dissatisfaction, and her body wanted another fix. Her mind wanted someone else’s life to jump into. Her haggard face was not a pretty sight to behold.

Matt looked toward the door and then swung it open. He could sense his approach. “He’s here.” They were relieved as the time had appeared to have slowed to an uncomfortable crawl with dissatisfied faces all around.

Stephen flew over the I-95 highway, beyond the off ramp and out of the starry sky, his wings cutting through the warm night. The motel loomed larger as he approached out of the night, with the repeating red doors side-by-side as he headed for number twenty. A stray bulldog retreated from the area as it sensed trouble, barking once with fear in its voice and then another big dog barked from somewhere north of him. As he entered the motel he changed from bat form to the shape of a human and landed with a thud for effect that made Thelma jump. He was a solid black man built like a football player, with brown eyes and perfect teeth. He had a wide nose but was otherwise good looking. He could have landed with the lightness of a feather but that would not have had the desired effect. He studied the scene and noticed the seedy condition of the place. Stephen shook his head at the smell of it.

“
So?” Stephen was anxious for the information. His eyes touched on all of them.

“
She’s too freaking high; we can’t access her mind properly.”

“
You can’t MIND her?”

“
Nope,” Joshua stated. “All you get in there is unbalanced conditions with erratic thoughts. Apparently she’s a big U2 fan and likes to eat chalk.”

“
And it’s the correct Thelma Gordon.”

Joshua sat on the bed and she moved away from him. He nodded with his pleasant enough face. Several seconds of silence gave way. “She admits to dating Zacharia.”

She was indeed the one he had been searching for, but her condition might be a detriment. There hadn’t been any others even willing to admit that they knew Zacharia. Stephen considered what to do next. Not being able to enter her mind and poke around in there was a definite liability. In there he could search for the knowledge and verify it with distant memories and scenes containing Zacharia. But without being able to achieve the brain thing he needed other leverage. He might not be able to tell a lie from the truth, and at this time she was the only viable lead. His blue eyes shifted from one side to the other. He scratched his head as the room remained silent. “She’s going to need a fix soon. What is she on?”

“
None of your damn business,” she said with attitude. “I’m on the bed, that’s what I’m on.”

“
We found several empty plastic baggies with heroin residue in the washroom. At least I think it’s heroin.” Matt also sat on the old mattress but then quickly stood up. “Bedbugs. This place is so gross.”

“
Thelma, we’re going to keep you here until you tell us. If I were you I’d spill it now before the shaking and the vomiting starts. Will heroin withdrawal produce shaking and vomiting? I really don’t know much about heroin. Keep her here until I get back.” Stephen opened and blurred out the door, and forty minutes elapsed before he returned.

Stephen took a baggie containing white powder out of his right suit pocket and shook it at her.

“
Who the hell are you guys to judge me? You bastards drink blood for a living.” Thelma’s eyes lit up as much as they were able to in her current state. She longed for the bag as a sober wino would an unopened bottle of wine. Resistance was becoming more futile though the thought of giving in was distasteful. She reached under the pillow and took out her Nine and Company Abbey mini red handbag, and out of it she took pen and paper. Thelma paused and was again captured by the white in the baggie, but hesitated for only a few seconds. Zacharia had once been an exceptional part of her life, and the only pleasant thoughts that she could now pull out of that exhausted brain. She was giving up someone that she had once loved, but now it was only drugs that she cherished. She ripped out a page and wrote Zacharia’s last known address and flung it on the bed. “He’ll probably kill all of you bastards. He knows Dracula. I saw your Master once you know; he’s sooooooo sexy.”

Joshua picked up the paper and studied it. Her handwriting was atrocious but he did manage to decipher the address. He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “He’s in Spain.” He gave the paper to Stephen.

Stephen examined the paper. “I know this location. I have business in Charlotte and then we’ll head out tomorrow night. Thelma, if this information is incorrect we’ll be back because we know your stench.”

He threw the baggie on the bed and she grabbed it with such enthusiasm, and brought it to her cheek like a mother being reunited with her baby. Her hands shook as she opened the small bag and verified it. What was to come was already appreciated in that white powder. Heroin had her by the neck and was in the process of choking the life out of her, and not so slowly anymore.

They collectively blurred out of the hotel with such velocity that Thelma’s hair was blown by the air current, with the door remaining open to the night air. A lost American bulldog peered into the room sheepishly, and was not at all appreciative of the odor within. The dog continued off into the night.

CHAPTER EIGHT

PIERS ANTHONY SPENT two days down the forest path across from the old Mill on the Mill Road. Time was different for biters as it appeared to slow down dramatically. It had a different flow to it than the mortal world. The author remained in a period of adjustment, and felt at times as if he continued to have one foot in the mortal world, trapped in deep mud. His dreams were now too real and too colorful; sleep was no longer as satisfying as it once was. His nightmare of feeding on a mountain of raw steaks was particularly disturbing, especially when the meat commenced to talk to him about different plot lines.

Down the forest path Piers had watched bikers and walkers and runners go by as he formulated new plots for several future books. He also considered different ways to reach Dracula, perhaps the most complex being on the planet. Getting to know the Master was like getting to know the ocean. He had finally made his way back to the bench that was cemented into the ground, located not far from Martin Street, and watched the mallard ducks approach him in the muddy water looking for bread, but they soon tired of waiting and wandered off. Sitting and staring at nothing as the hours passed.

It was evening and an indecisive rain had commenced, off and on. Piers decided to walk up the small hill, and head across the street and have another go at Dracula. It could be dangerous but too many people were perishing at the hands of the vamps, and even though the Master had proclaimed it to be illegal to travel in gangs, more and more cliques were being created. One such biker gang had originated out of Cape Coral, Florida, and in less than six months had become legendary killers. Witnesses that had survived seeing the killers had reported that they all drove Harley-Davidson bikes, and wore blood-red vests with a fangs logo on their backs with dripping blood. Two red sheriffs had tracked them down to a farm in Virginia, but discovered that their bikes had been abandoned as they had probably fled only a half hour prior to their arrival. They also found the slaughtered owners and their family members and workers strewn about. They destroyed the bikes and set them aflame, but the act didn’t give them much satisfaction.