The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon (6 page)

“Delmarco. That’s the one.”

“And he claimed they were vampire hunters.” Preston unsuccessfully tried to roll up the window. He calculated what he wanted more—a cigarette or a wind-free ride. Opting for the latter, he tossed the cigarette out the window. “If you ask me, the kid’s as crazy as the other two.”

“I talked to a friend of mine on the Fairfax County Police Force who questioned the kid after his arrest at Wolf Trap. According to my friend, the kid exhibited none of the signs of being delusional or psychotic. He told the truth.”

“Or what he believed to be the truth.”

“Maybe,” said Rodriguez with a slight hesitation in his voice.

Preston tried to roll up the window again, but it remained locked open. He banged his finger several times on the control button, then looked over at Rodriguez. “Do you mind?”

Rodriguez clicked off the child-proof lock.

Preston raised the window, cutting off the flow of air into his face. “What do you mean,
maybe
? Don’t tell me you honestly believe that shit about vampire hunters?”

“I don’t know what to believe.”

“Oh, for Christ’s sake.”

“You got to admit, something strange is going on. Every time Drake is arrested, he leaves a trail of destruction behind him. But never any bodies, just ash.”

“There’s a rational explanation for that,” Preston said dismissively.

“Then I wish somebody would tell me. I arrested Drake after the incident at Union Station. I chased that tanker truck Drake was hanging on, and watched it crash into the Woodrow Wilson Bridge and explode. And I know for a fact they never found the driver’s remains. What about the gunfight on the Metro? We found eighteen .40 caliber shell casings in the Metro car, but no body. What the hell can take eighteen rounds from a Glock and still walk away?”

“Nothing. Which means Drake missed. It’s as simple as that.”

“Really? Then how come we never found any of the rounds, either on the floor or imbedded in the walls?”

Preston ended the conversation with a frustrated huff and turned to look out the window. No one had an answer to Rodriguez’ question, and that bothered the shit out of him. As special assistant to Roach, his primary responsibility was to protect the force and cover the chief’s ass. He could easily do that with a corruption or abuse scandal, or with major embarrassments like the city’s reoccurring crime emergencies. In those instances, he could put a positive spin on the facts and manipulate the media to make the situation look better than it actually was. This time he drew a blank because he had no facts to spin. Or, more accurately, the few facts he had did not easily lend themselves to being spun.

This trip probably would add little to his CYA initiatives. Jack Craig, chief of security at the city morgue, called last night to report that his staff had compiled and reviewed the security camera footage from the night that Robert Dekker had been murdered. Craig would not go into details over the phone, other than to say that he thought the cameras had recorded Dekker’s murderers, and that Alison Monroe may somehow have been involved. Other than that, Craig would only say that Preston needed to see this video to believe it. Since Preston had never met Alison Monroe, he brought along Rodriguez, who had arrested her on several occasions.

Whatever that footage contained, Preston felt certain he would not like it.

When they arrived at the morgue’s security office, Jack Craig came around from behind his desk to greet them. Preston thought he looked like the stereotype for a security guard, a burly man with a sizeable paunch that hung over his belt, and close-cut blonde hair that did little to detract from his bald spot. Preston figured Craig for either a retired cop who took this job to try and stay connected with law enforcement, or a cop wannabe.

Craig greeted Rodriguez with a hearty handshake and a slap on the right shoulder. “God, I haven’t seen you for ages. What have you been up to?”

“The same. Still walking a beat and trying to stay out of trouble.”

“I hear ya.” Craig turned to Preston and offered his hand. “You must be the guy I talked with on the phone.”

“Yes. Joel Preston.” He gave the hand a perfunctory shake.

Craig turned back to Rodriguez and leaned against the rim of the desk. “So, how’s the family?”

“Good. Sophie started elementary school this fall. What about Jack Junior? He must be nearing graduation.”

“Next May. He’s already signed up with the Marines. Wants to serve his country for a few years before going to college.”

“What’s Eileen say?”

“She cried and tried to talk him out of it. Did no good, though. He’s as stubborn as his old man.” A slight pause ensued, then Craig asked, “What are you doing here?”

“I asked him to come down,” said Preston, aggravated with the small talk. “If you two are done, can we see the security footage now?”

“Keep your suit on, son.” Craig made no effort to hide his new-found contempt for Preston. He went behind his desk and removed a CD-ROM from the top desk drawer. He crossed the office to where a television and CD player sat on separate levels of a rolling, three-level metal rack. As Preston and Rodriguez joined him, Craig turned on power to both machines and inserted the CD-ROM.

“This is the strangest shit I’ve ever seen, and God knows I saw some pretty strange shit while on the force. I double checked with my tech support people to make sure the original hadn’t been tampered with and replaced. They assured me it wasn’t.”

Craig hit the PLAY button. The snow on the screen changed to a black-and-white paused image of the morgue’s basement corridor. A black man in a security guard uniform sat in a folding metal chair.

“That’s Mark Robson,” Craig explained. “He is… was… our night guard.”

The footage began playing. Four figures entered the screen. A tall man with raven-black hair led the way, followed by a nondescript man, an overweight black woman in a stained nurse’s uniform, and a man with the build of a football linebacker. Robson stood to confront them. The tall man grabbed Robson around the throat. Judging by the fear and pain on Robson’s face, the tall man must have been extremely powerful. He pushed Robson to the nurse and the linebacker, who dragged him into the adjoining room. The nondescript man turned to face the tall one, giving the camera its first look at his face. It was grotesquely deformed.

“Hit pause,” ordered Preston. As Craig responded, Preston stepped up to the screen and studied the image. “What the hell is wrong with that guy’s face?”

“Pretty fucked up, huh?”

“I’ve never seen a deformity like that before.”

“Could be a mask,” said Rodriguez.

“Maybe. Just watch.” Craig pressed the PAUSE button again.

The tall man said something to the deformed man, who set off down the corridor. The tall man entered a room next to the one where Robson had been dragged into. Several seconds later, at the upper level of the screen, the deformed man entered another room.

“He just entered the autopsy room where Dekker was murdered,” explained Craig.

The image jumped and changed slightly. According to the counter in the lower right corner of the screen, thirteen minutes had elapsed. A young man with a camera strapped around his neck and holding what appeared to be a camera equipment bag walked down the corridor. He stopped in front of the door to the autopsy room and knocked twice before entering. Another shift in the image, this one four minutes later. A blonde woman in a black business suit and pink blouse entered the picture.

“Is that Alison Monroe?” asked Preston.

Rodriguez shook his head. “I’ve never seen that woman before.”

“My people weren’t able to identify her or the guy with the camera,” added Craig.

The blonde walked halfway down the corridor when the tall man stepped out of the side room, blocking her path. The nurse and linebacker also exited their room, cutting off her retreat. Words were exchanged, and then the tall man changed into… something. Preston could not identify what. He could see the man’s skin change color, becoming pale. Although difficult to discern, his teeth and fingers appeared to change into fangs and talons.

That was when the man with the camera raced out of the autopsy room, this time no longer holding his bag. Preston could see the terror in his eyes. He ran up to the others, wildly talking and gesturing, closely followed by the deformed man. The tall man/thing spun around to face him, pulled his head back by the hair, and ripped out the front of his throat with his fangs. Even in black-and-white, the gore was nauseating.

“Fuck,” said Rodriguez, stunned.

“More like bullshit.” Preston stepped forward and pressed the PAUSE button. The image stopped on the tall man/thing standing there, a chunk of bloody flesh and tissue in his mouth, with the cameraman’s corpse falling to the floor. “I don’t appreciate being called down here to be the butt of an asinine practical joke.”

“If I could make up shit like this, I’d move to Hollywood and earn a fortune making movies. This shit’s for real.”

Preston looked at Craig and wanted to argue, but decided against it. No amount of arguing could change the facts.

“And you still haven’t seen the weirdest part.” Craig pressed the PLAY button, then stepped back to finish watching the footage.

The nurse and deformed man grabbed the woman by her arms. Something attracted their attention. They all stared down the corridor. Preston saw that the nurse and linebacker had the same hideous features as the deformed man. A brunette woman in a leather coat stood by the wooden folding chair.

“That’s Alison Monroe,” said Rodriguez.

The next few minutes played out like a B-grade horror movie. The linebacker charged at Alison, who grabbed the wooden chair and smashed it over his head as he passed. Undaunted, the linebacker wrapped one hand around her throat and slammed her against the wall. Alison showed him the broken leg of the chair and jammed it into his chest. The linebacker stumbled back, clutching at the piece of wood as blood gushed from the wound, splattering Alison and the wall. The linebacker attacked Alison, but before he could reach her he disintegrated into a cloud of ash.

Barely had the ashes settled when the deformed man lunged at Alison. In the melee, the blonde escaped from the nurse and tried to escape. The deformed man spun around to stop her, and Alison drove the chair leg into his back. He clawed at his wound until, like the linebacker, he turned to ash and crumbled to the floor. As the blonde made her way to the exit, Alison walked toward the others, the chair leg aimed in their direction. The tall man/thing and the nurse moved to meet her when the tall man/thing suddenly grabbed the nurse by the shoulders and pushed her forward, driving her onto the stake and knocking Alison off balance. The nurse disintegrated like the others. The tall man/thing ripped the chair leg out of Alison’s hand, grabbed her by the neck, lifted her off her feet, and drove her into the door jam. Alison plunged her thumbs into his eyes and pushed, driving them deep into the orbs. The tall man/thing screamed, slammed Alison against the wall, and flung her fifteen feet down the corridor. As she lay there unconscious, the tall man/thing stumbled blindly along the corridor toward the exit. A few seconds later, the image cut out and was replaced by snow.

Craig hit the STOP button and turned to the others. “Well?”

Preston still tried to figure out what he had just seen. “I can see why you don’t want this to become widely known.”

“You can imagine what would happen if the news got hold of this.”

That thought scared Preston as much as what he saw on the footage itself. “How many others know about this?”

“Half a dozen of us have watched it, including the tech support guys who compiled it. But the entire staff has heard about what happened here that night.”

“Anyone outside of your security and tech support staff know about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Keep it that way.” Preston ejected the CD-ROM. “If this gets out, it’ll cause a city-wide panic. Tell your men to keep this to themselves.”

“They will,” assured Craig.

“I’m serious. If I hear one word in the media about this CD or what happened that night, I’ll have the whole lot of you thrown into jail until I find out who talked.”

Craig bristled. “Don’t threaten me.”

“I’m not. Threats are idle.” Preston paused a moment to let the words sink in. “Are we clear?”

“Yes, sir.”

Preston tried to sound conciliatory. “Thanks. I appreciate this. And I’ll be sure to let Chief Roach know what a good job you did pulling this together.”

Once back at the squad car, Preston silently sat in the front seat, staring at the CD-ROM in his hands. They drove for nearly a mile before Rodriguez finally asked, “So what do we do about that?”

“I don’t know.” Preston meant it. “But the same rule applies to us as to the security staff. We can’t discuss this with anyone.”

“Agreed. But what are you going to tell Roach?”

“I don’t know. He’s not going to like whatever I tell him.”

Unless I don’t tell him the truth, Preston thought.

*     *     *

Alison administered three
roundhouse kicks to the abdomen in rapid succession, and then drove a stake into the heart area. She jumped back a few feet, hopped several times from one foot to the other, then moved in for the kill. When close enough, she attempted a tornado kick, spinning around completely before connecting with its head. Not only did she miss and connect with the torso instead, she lost her balance and stumbled backward. Had Alison been fighting a vampire rather than a training dummy, she would be dead by now.