The Caretaker of Showman's Hill (Vampire Romance) (2 page)

A whirring sound came from her camera, causing her heart to skip a beat. The film was rewinding automatically. How odd. She’d have to ask at the office if the camera they’d given her was defective. After all, she had a full roll of film when she came here, and had only used a few shots. Her mind pondered her rescuer, warning her not to take any photos. This was all too odd for her. She jammed the gear into drive and sped away as fast as she could.
 

Basil Wensilton III stepped out from behind the mausoleum and stood in the shadows as the girl drove away. He'd been standing not five feet from her, but she'd never even seen him. It was a trait of his kind. Blending into the surroundings almost as if invisible. His skills were improving since he'd had plenty of time to practice. Two hundred years more or less.

"Damn!" He kicked at a stone and it went flying much farther than it should have. His powers were increasing with age. He didn’t need this snoopy reporter hanging around the grounds and stirring up trouble. In all of his years of watching over Showman's Hill, he'd never had such problems as he'd been running into lately. Then again, the cemetery had always been quiet . . . he'd seen to it that it stayed that way. He'd done his job with expertise, everything running smoothly, up until now.

This woman called Cassie was trouble, there was no denying it. Anyone snooping around a cemetery in the middle of the night had to be up to no good.  She was a reporter, to make things worse. And a damned good looking one at that. He envisioned her shapely body, her strong will - that sassy short blond haircut and that long beautiful neck. Anyone who'd be willing to stick a neck like that out just for a good story was going to wind up dead. Hell, she may as well stick it under a guillotine the way she offered his greedy cousin Antonio a bite. It was vampires like Antonio that gave vampirism a bad name.

She'd be back. He was sure of it. And Antonio would be there waiting for her when she arrived.

Basil watched the little car squeeze through the small opening at the cemetery entrance, the tires spinning over the well-embedded gravel as she tore away like a bat out of hell. He'd been able to save her from Antonio this time, but what if he couldn't the next time it happened?

When he reached for her camera, he'd almost touched her. If he would have touched her, he was sure it would have been himself playing the attacker instead. Fresh blood was exactly what this graveyard needed. Her blood, he was sure, would be the freshest, sweetest nectar he'd ever tasted.

He turned away slowly and made his way up the steps of the Egyptian clad mausoleum. Moving aside the gate at the entrance, he proceeded to push open the heavy wooden door. Maybe a good book and a stiff drink would take his mind off the girl. He was thankful he'd learned to supplement his feedings with brandy and whiskey when the blood supply started running low years ago. Actually, he'd even reverted to alternatives such as seaweed soup and borscht and had actually begun to like it.

But after tonight, his libido was working overtime. He'd not had a good drink of human blood in too long. His craving for blood only seemed to bring out his dormant craving for sex as well. He slid open the vaulted drawer in the wall that concealed his casket, or bed as he called it. Flipping open the wooden lid, he arranged the pillows, then kicked off his shoes.

He had work to do, and knew he should go after Antonio and reprimand him, but that would have to wait until later. After what happened tonight, he was sure the girl went home to safety. Antonio wouldn't try anything again so soon, for although he was careless, he was still afraid of his superior - the Caretaker as the rest of the inhabitants of Showman's Hill called Basil.

He pulled open another vault in the wall and flipped open an entire bar stocked with everything from Bourbon to Peach schnapps. He grabbed a glass off the top rack and poured himself a combination of sweet liqueurs. Then his hand stopped as it passed over the dark red bottle with the blue cork.

His yearning to taste its liquid was strong tonight. He pulled back his hand, knowing he shouldn't. He was supposed to guard this bottle, not raid it of its contents. He'd cheated once before by taking a sip, and paid for it dearly. His life had never been the same since that night nearly twenty years ago.

His hand shot out for it anyway. He blamed his action on that snoopy reporter. She stirred this dormant feeling inside him. It was her fault he was losing control. He pulled out the cork carefully and sniffed the aroma.

Heaven.

That's the only word he could possibly use to describe what was inside. He quickly poured a splash into his drink and capped the bottle and shoved it back into place. He hated himself already for doing it. He hated himself, but yet at the same time he couldn't stop. He licked a drop from his finger, savoring the exotic flavor.

It was ecstasy to taste the rich liquid which only improved with age. He figured that after all these years, he deserved it.

He slid the higher vault open that was made for a casket, as were all the others. The mausoleum should have held six corpses, three stacked on each side. Two of the vaults had been filled at one time, but he moved the occupants to the graveyard when he made his permanent home inside.

His mother and father were now safely buried beneath the ground, his own self damned for eternity to walk the earth forever.

He ran a finger over the romance novels that lined the shelf of the vault. He had a fetish for the things, his only way of living a fantasy he'd never know. In his present state, he'd never get as close to a woman as the lucky heroes did in the books. He could only dream of making love once again and still have the woman alive the next morning.

He pulled out one of his favorites, Dark Shadows, a vampire romance. He had to read it once again and see how the hero got his girl. If only he was as lucky as the vampire in the book. If only he could be made human again - a thing that was highly impossible concerning the circumstances.

He lowered his body into his bed and snuggled down into the pillows around him. Sipping on his nectar, he absorbed himself in a book that would take his troubles away for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, the heroine only reminded him of that reporter named Cassie. He could still feel the flash of her camera burning into his skin. Once she got the film developed, she'd be back. There was no doubt in his mind. She was too curious for her own good and wouldn't leave well enough alone. He could only hope when she returned it would be during the night - for he couldn't control his longing to see her once again.

Chapter 2

Cassie drummed her fingers atop her desk and glanced at the clock on the wall for the tenth time in the last five minutes. The film should be just about done at the one-hour photo down in the lobby. The young boy said he'd deliver it himself as soon as it was finished.

She'd been avoiding Gregg all morning, hoping to get the film before she had to make her report to him about her assignment from last night. She wouldn't give him the pleasure of gloating at her and telling her she screwed up again. Last week's UFO sighting never panned out, plus the week before’s three headed chicken mysteriously ended up on the dinner table before she'd even gotten a picture of the farmer's so called oddity.

This time would be different. This time she'd bring him a story with photos to prove it. Whether the story was real or just an office joke, she no longer cared. At least she’d have something to turn in to get her boss off her back and allow her more time to look for her sister. Every day that passed without finding Didi took away a little more hope.

"Ms. Briggs?" A teenage boy stood before her with a packet of developed film in his hands. "Your photos are ready."

"Finally." Cassie dug through her purse and shoved some dollars in the boy's hand. Grabbing the film, she sat back down as he left counting the cash. She felt like she was living in the past. Everyone had digital cameras in this day and age, but Gregg didn’t like change and he still opted for the good old fashioned methods. This backwards little town was starting to drive her crazy.

"Cassie!"

Cassie almost jumped out of her chair, quickly shoving the packet of film under the papers piled atop her desk.

"Gregg. What's up?" She tried to sound casual.

"My temper," he answered. "You were supposed to report to me first thing in the morning. It's now noon. I have the magazine going to press in two days and I've yet to get your story."

"I was going to come talk to you right after. . ." Her eyes dropped to her desk.

"After what?” His gaze followed hers. “Did you get a story last night or didn't you?"

"Yes. No. Well, I'm not sure yet, but maybe." In thought, she rubbed the papers atop the photos.

"You do have something, don't you? Let me see." He snatched the photos from under the pile and rifled through them.

"I think I saw that vampire last night that everyone's been talking about.” She watched his face for a reaction, but didn’t get one.

"And you got a picture of him, did you?" She half expected him to start laughing that she was the brunt of his joke, but he didn’t.

"I took some photos,” she admitted. “I was just going to look through them." She tried to reach for them over the top of the desk but Gregg pulled them away and strolled to the other side of the room.

"Jay, look at these photos Cassie took last night at the cemetery."

Cassie's heart pounded faster. Maybe she had something after all. She couldn’t wait to see the photo of her handsome rescuer. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and his mysterious ways, and had been up all night wondering just who he was.

Jay Salis looked up from his desk at the photos Gregg pushed in his face. Jay was in his mid thirties, single, and quite attractive if it wasn't for his horrible personality.

"Good god, Cassie. These photos are something.” He shook his head as if he were impressed. She walked up behind him, excited to see them, but he swiveled his desk chair around to keep them out of view. "Gregg, maybe we should put these on this month's cover."

"Cover?" asked Cassie. Her career was finally starting to look up. "That would be great."

Gregg grabbed the photos from Jay and threw them down on the desk, face up. "Sure. Our lead story could be: Two stone sphinxes mate in cemetery. Girl reporter witnesses their technique."

Cassie's hopes fell along with her gaze to the photos. There were no men fighting in the pictures. No vampire in a cape and dark-haired mysterious man in blue flannel.

"I don’t understand. I took photos of a fight between a man and a vampire last night," she said, frantically digging through them. All the photos were of an empty cemetery. No people at all.

"Oh, well, that explains half of it then," smirked Jay. He took a puff of his cigarette and blew the smoke in her face. “Any idiot knows vampires can't be photographed.”

Cassie felt her blood boil. Jay knew there was no smoking allowed in the building, yet he did it anyway, and Gregg never said a word about it.

“Then why did you two send me out in the middle of the night to an old creepy cemetery telling me to photograph the vampire?”

“Hey honey,” Jay said with a smile. “We thought you knew all about vampires.”

“All about the myths, you mean. And by the way, I don’t believe in any of that nonsense.” Cassie shook her head in disbelief and looked to Gregg. “You of all people. I can’t believe it.”

“Now hold on,” Gregg interrupted. “First off, it wasn’t my idea.” He looked to Jay when he said it. “But to set things straight, there have been stories about Showman’s Hill and vampires for as long as I can remember. I guess I was just hoping you’d find something – anything to write about – being close to Halloween and all.”

Deep in thought, Cassie shuffled through the photos once more. Then it hit her. Something odd was going on at the cemetery. If those two men had been an office joke, then why didn’t they show up on the film? She hadn’t imagined the whole thing.

"Gregg, please. You've got to believe me," Cassie tried to convince him. “Something happened at that cemetery last night. I’m telling you – I saw two people. Give me another chance to prove it.”

Gregg ran a hand through his curly dark hair. "Cassie, I'd like to, but I have no choice. You've been here for two weeks now and haven't brought me a single story."

"You're going to fire me, aren't you?"

Gregg was silent and Jay once again blew smoke in the air.

"Unless you can give me a story by next week, I don't really have a choice now, do I?"

"I’ll bring you an extra story to make up for her mistake,” Jay volunteered. “After all, I'm your top writer.”

Cassie couldn’t stop herself from responding. "Only because you fake the stories, not to mention the photos you submit. Anyone can do that.”

Jay took one last puff of his cigarette and smashed the butt into the already full ashtray. "You can't prove a thing, sweetheart. The fact remains - I deliver, you don't."

"Gregg?" Cassie waited for his answer.

Gregg kept his eyes on the ground, refusing to look at her. "I need a story. The magazine has good ratings and I want to keep it there."

"Give me time and I'll give you the first story that's true in your damn tabloid."

That got his attention. "Call it a tabloid again and you can leave here today.”

"Sorry, Gregg." Cassie pushed the photos back into a pile and shoved them back into the envelope. "I'm going through a bit of bad luck right now and I really need the job."

"I can only pay you the minimum until you give me a story."

"All I need is a little more time. I know there’s a story at that cemetery, I’m just not sure yet what it is."

"I'll give you 'til Halloween to get this story wrapped up. If you can't do it by then, I'll have to let you go. Sorry, but that's the best I can do for you. I've got a following and have to have writers who deliver or I'm out of business."

"Thanks,” she said, forcing a smile just to irritate Jay. “I'll give you a story you won't forget."

The phone rang in Gregg's office and he left the room to answer it. Cassie turned around to go back to her desk, but Jay blocked her way.

"Why don't you come over to my apartment tonight, cupcake, and I'll give you something you won't forget, either."

"Drop dead, Jay. I'd rather spend the night sitting atop a dead man's grave.” She pushed her way past him, knowing exactly where she intended on going after work.