Vampire a Go-Go(34)

“Yes.” Fay scratched his chin, wondered what the girl could be up to, where she might be. He wasn’t in the mood for complications.

“We attempted a tracking spell,” Sam said, “but they must be blocking us somehow.”

Yeah, right.

“I’ll need a hotel,” Fay said. “Let’s go.”

Father Paul stood next to Finnegan. They looked down at Evergreen’s pale, lifeless body, the fleshy pink gash in his throat garish and horrible.

Father Paul sighed, stuck a cigarette in his mouth. “You got a light?”

“I don’t smoke,” Finnegan said.

“Really? Since when?”

“About a week. Ten days maybe. It’ll kill ya.”

“I’ll quit after this job.”

“You said that before.”

“Well, I’m saying it now.”

Finnegan nudged the body with his foot. “What about him?”

“If she doesn’t need Evergreen anymore, then she’s got her hooks into somebody else,” Father Paul said.

“The Cabbot boy?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeah.” Finnegan rubbed the stubble on his jaw. They both needed sleep. “And Penny wouldn’t say?”

“Poor girl’s in love.”

“Damn,” Finnegan said. “Maybe we can still get through this without love fucking it up.”

“From your lips to God’s ears, Father Finnegan.”





THIRTY-EIGHT




Back at the service window, Allen rifled the small desk, looking for what he needed. He wrapped the fragile manuscript in a triple layer of old newspapers and tied up the whole thing with brown twine. When he got someplace safe, he’d open it and take a closer look.

He climbed back through the window, went through the reading room, and let himself into the hallway beyond. He wove his way through back offices and storage rooms until he found the doorway out, an exit labeled in Czech, German, and English.

No alarms sounded. Nobody came after him.

Which way?

He headed up Petrin Hill. He remembered from the map in The Rogue’s Guide that numerous paths crisscrossed the hill. He could lose himself up there in case someone followed, emerge on the other side. Some paths were well lit, others not. The Rogue’s Guide had also mentioned the fact that hookers used the shrubbery as convenient hideaways for quickies. Interesting information but not particularly useful at the moment.

At first Allen stuck to the main path, which was well lit and smoothly paved. He kept heading up. He passed a young couple strolling arm in arm. Harmless, but they could still talk to the police. Have you seen a young man with a stolen alchemist diary? Which way did he go?

He turned onto a gravel path, narrow and dark, but still heading for the top of the hill. From there he could survey his surroundings and decide where to go next.

Next. Yes, that would be tricky. It was not safe to go back to his dorm; it had been foolish to go there the first time, in fact. Too easy for people to find him. And he didn’t relish returning to Penny’s apartment and having to explain why he’d gone off without her. There would be some hurt feelings there, but time to apologize later. Right now he needed a quiet place to examine Kelley’s journal. A well-lit desk and nobody trying to kidnap, seduce, or kill him.

And while seduction was admittedly the least appalling of the options, the sudden thought of Cassandra both terrified and excited Allen, sending conflicting sensations coursing through his body.

No. Don’t think about it.

He trudged up the path, gravel crunching. He panted with the exertion. Allen wasn’t in bad shape, but the hill went up and up. He’d left the well-lit path far behind now, and the darkness closed in on him. He stepped off the path a few times, had to reorient himself by moonlight.

Allen heard something and froze. Had he heard footsteps, or was it just himself he’d heard? His own panting was loud in his ears. Something rustled in the bushes far back down the path. Bird? Rabbit?

Vampire?

He began walking again, took another dozen steps and stopped. Okay, he definitely did hear something. Something too large to be a bird or rabbit rustled the bushes. Allen strained his ears, heard a sniffing sound, or maybe it was heavy breathing. There! A dark shape slunk from the bushes, pausing in the middle of the path. Allen’s heart picked up speed. He didn’t move, held his breath. Maybe it would go away.

It moved, turning toward him. Glowing eyes stabbed him from the darkness.

It came toward him.

“Fuck!”

Allen clutched the manuscript to his chest and ran.

He ran straight up the path at first, but when he heard the rapid footfalls behind him, he realized his pursuer would overtake him quickly. He took a sharp right turn into the woods, where he dodged among the trees and low branches, stumbling over roots. How did he think getting lost in the woods would help? A sort of strange clarity told him he was panicking. Branches slapped at his face, tugged at his clothing.

The thing plunged into the woods behind him, pulling closer.

Oh, God, I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to die I’m going to-

His feet flew along the easiest path, turning downhill. He stumbled, and his hands flew out to grab a tree trunk. The manuscript flew away.

“Shit!”

He didn’t pause, didn’t even think of stopping to pick it up. He ran so hard that he thought his heart would explode. Sweat drenched him.

A howl split the night-a single note, deep and clear, rising above the hill.

Allen went cold.

He entered a small clearing, knew he couldn’t run anymore. He would collapse any minute. He picked up a fallen branch and turned, backed up to the other side of the clearing, the branch held feebly in front of him.

Allen waited.

He saw the eyes first. It stepped into the clearing, moonlight giving it shape. An enormous dog. No. A wolf. Reddish-brown fur. Allen blinked. It was the same animal he’d seen so many months ago in the woods behind Professor Evergreen’s house.

That’s. Fucking. Impossible.

It took a step toward him, and Allen raised the branch.

The wolf threw its head back and howled again. Allen trembled. Allen waited to die as he imagined fangs tearing out his throat.

The wolf didn’t budge. A moment stretched. It howled again.

Allen sensed movement down the hill, heard somebody clumsily trudging through the bushes. Allen opened his mouth to yell for help, but his voice caught, fear choking him to silence.

The wolf howled again.

Distantly, a woman’s voice whined, “Okay. I heard you, for Christ’s sake. I’m coming.”

The wolf nodded its head, pawed at the air.

Bushes rustled to Allen’s left, startling him. A woman stumbled into the clearing.

Allen’s eyes popped. “Amy!”

Amy panted, held an armload of clothes. “Uphill? Is this revenge for dragging you up Zizkov?”

“Amy, stop. There’s a wolf.” He pointed with the branch.

“Yeah.” She plopped butt first onto the grass, still out of breath. “Try not to freak out.”

“What?”

Amy pointed at the wolf. “Look.”

The animal began to shake, going into rapid convulsions. It made pained sounds, whined and growled. Its back arched. Limbs began to stretch and elongate horribly, its muzzle distorting and flattening into a face.

Allen could not imagine a more horrifying sight than this creature melting and deforming, redefining itself, fur melting into flesh, this monster growing more familiar by the second. A scream. Human.

She lay momentarily in a fetal position, then stood on shaky legs, hands going to mussed hair.

“Penny,” breathed Allen. “Oh, my God.”

Allen’s world tilted dramatically. So many questions.

Penny stood naked, white and curved in the radiant moonlight.





THIRTY-NINE




Jackson Fay checked himself and the girls into a suite at the opulent Carlo IV hotel. He would plan his next move in comfort. He would need to locate Evergreen. He would need to determine if the man was a threat or not, prepare both defensive and offensive spells. Better to be over-prepared than under.

But at the moment, he was famished. Room service brought three carts of food and two chilled buckets of champagne. Fay had been embezzling from the Society for three years in preparation for his break with them.

Clover gulped a glass of champagne like it was ginger ale. “This beats the hell out of the service tunnels underneath Zizkov.”

Sam reached for a shrimp cocktail. “Yeah.”

“I could get used to this.” Clover stuck a cigarette into her mouth, flipped open her Zippo.

“Don’t smoke,” Fay said.

Clover froze, the flame halfway to her cigarette. “Sorry?”

“I don’t like the smell,” Fay said. “You have your own room. Smoke in there.”

She shrugged. “Right. Okay. I’ll suck a quick one. Back in a minute.” She went into her room and closed the door.

“She smokes too much.” Sam popped a shrimp into her mouth, chewed as she refilled her champagne glass. “Is there a spell for lung cancer?”

“Maybe we should discover one.” Fay sat back in his chair, looked at Sam. Long legs, tan. Athletic. Not very feminine in T-shirt, denim shorts, and hiking boots, but he could tell there was a good figure under there, and now that he’d eaten, Fay contemplated satisfying other needs.

He stood and plucked the rose from the vase on one of the serving trays. Classy place. Fay would never live in middle-class mediocrity again. He would always have just exactly whatever he wanted. This he vowed to himself.