Brides Of The Impaler (33 page)

Vernon nodded.

The priest stepped ahead of him and entered the room.

But it wasn’t Cristina who stood there. It was Paul.

“Stop!” Rollin shouted. “You don’t know what you’re doing! You don’t know what you’re bringing back!”

Paul stood poised, with the bowl inches from his lips. “You’re wrong about that, priest. I
do
know what I’m bringing back. That’s why I’m doing it.”

Paul gulped down the contents of the bowl, and when he tossed the bowl aside, it shattered on the floor, revealing that the clay had been merely a surface, covering what appeared to be a human skullcap.

“Now!” Rollin yelled to Vernon.

Just as Vernon would charge into the room, a thin figure grabbed him from behind. “Yuh-yuh-yuh-you can’t!” exclaimed the emaciated woman suddenly on his back. She, too, was nude and scrawled with the black, green, and red lines. Dirty nails clawed at his face; the pole fell from his hands. “Yuh-you don’t belong here-belong here-belong here!” Vernon yelled when the fanged mouth began to snap open and closed an inch from his face. “I could use some fuckin’ help here, Father!” he bellowed, but the priest was absent. Had he fled? Ninety pounds or not, the pallid woman fought like a gang member. Vernon thrashed on the bare floor; it was all he could do to keep the woman’s snapping mouth off his throat.

“Gonna suck you-suck you-suck you dry…”

Vernon’s strength began to falter; her foaming mouth drew so close he could feel the sour breath gusting on his throat.

He wasn’t thinking when he fired four shots up into the woman’s chest. It hadn’t worked before, so why had he done it now? The woman paused to chuckle, then leaned harder toward his throat.

One more shot: BAM!

“You can’t hurt me with that-with that-with—”

BAM!

The sixth shot blew the woman clean off of Vernon like
a catapult. She lay lopsided against the baseboard, con vulsing.

“Fuh-fuh-fucker…” And then she fell dead.

Vernon had fired four shots in a straight line down her chest, then a fifth to the right, and the sixth to the left, the bullet holes forming the configuration of the cross.

He dragged his gaze to the middle of the room.

Father Rollin was on his knees, exhausted, while Paul Nasher twitched on the floor, the sharpened pole rammed fully through his chest, puncturing his heart.

Vernon glared at the priest. “Is it Miller Time yet?”

“I killed him before the transference could take place,” Rollin wheezed. He pointed to Cristina who lay in the opposite corner. “See if—”

Vernon rushed to her, felt for vitals.

“Is she—”

“She’s got a pulse. We’ve got to get her to the hospital. Looks like Nasher damn near beat her to death.” Vernon groaned when he put her over his shoulder. Rollin was already in the hall but something stopped him in his tracks.

“What now!” Vernon yelled.

“Is it my imagination…or do I smell smoke?”

Vernon labored to the stairwell, looked down. The crackling was undeniable, and so was the roaring light. “Somebody set the fuckin’ house on fire!”

“Hurry!”

They rushed to the second-floor landing as smoke began to pour up in volume. The living room was engulfed in flames.
We’ll have to jump from a window
, Vernon thought, but then the priest bulled down the stairs.

“Are you nuts!”

“Come on, we can beat it!”

Vernon followed, Cristina getting heavier on his shoulder. The front door of the house was already behind a wall of flame. “Now what?”

“Here!” Rollin shouted. “The way we came in!”

That’s right. The basement
…

He thunked down more steps into the basement, wondering how long it would take before the floor collapsed on them, bringing down rafters of fire.

“Hurry!”

No, YOU hurry
, Vernon thought.
I’m the one carrying
someone
…

Now the house was shaking from the conflagration. Rollin was already on the floor, backing into the narrow hole. “I’ll pull, you push!” he yelled.

Makes sense
. Vernon knelt as he fed Cristina’s limp body into the hole. Rollin could be heard grunting his exertion; Cristina disappeared in increments. “Any time now!” Vernon exclaimed, hearing the fire upstairs roar.

Vernon pushed on the unconscious woman’s legs until she was all the way in. Would the fire spread to the next building before they could get out? He could hear fire alarms going on at the adjacent condo. Vernon began to crawl into the hole, to fully exit the house.

When he was halfway in, two hands grabbed his ankles and pulled him back.

Vernon yelled the whole way.

“What happened?” Rollin shouted from the other side.

“Just get her out! The fire’s spreading!” He reached for his gun but realized he was out of ammunition. When he rolled over in the darkened basement, he saw a figure high above him.

The third and final homeless woman.
The one with the
glasses
, he recalled from the pictures.

She sat naked atop a stack of high boxes, her pallid skin streaked with the familiar lines of homage.

The moonlight lit her face and her fanged grin.

“You should stay here with me,” she said, her feet rowing back and forth.

“Why?”

“Then we can go to hell together. We’ll live forever, just like the New Mother promised.”

“The nun,” Vernon croaked. “Kanesae. Where is she?”

“Nowhere, and everywhere. Like all evil. Come with me and all your questions will be answered.”

Fat chance
. But then Vernon remembered what Professor Fredrick had mentioned. “The thirteenth lifetime is over. You blew it. But…what was the secret that Vlad whispered to her as she was draining his blood?”

The woman grinned. “If I told you…then it wouldn’t be a secret anymore.”

From the first floor, he heard the stairs collapse. The fire’s roar now sounded like a blast furnace.
I have to get out
of here. Now
.

“Let me impale you,” she said. “An offering to the Prince. You’ll be smiled upon in hell.”

“I’ll pass,” Vernon said.

The woman shrugged her bony shoulders. “Suit yourself. I guess someone should live to tell the tale.”

Vernon stared as the temperature vaulted.

“
Singele lui traieste
,” the woman whispered. She hitched forward on her perch. Only then did Vernon notice that she’d positioned a sharpened pole mounted on a Christmas tree stand just below. She hopped off the box, bringing her crotch right down on the point. She wriggled and fidgeted, then, as her body slowly slid down. She still showed the fanged grin when the point halted at the roof of her mouth.

Vernon dove back in the hole and crawled out just as the ceiling collapsed amid an avalanche of flame.

“I”m realizing just now that I’m way too old for this,” Rollin said in the passenger seat. Sweat beaded his adrenaline-pinkened face.

“You and me both, Father.” Vernon floored it to the nearest emergency room: Mt. Sinai, his suction-cup cherry ball pumping red and blue light into the city’s labyrinthine darkness.

Who’s gonna believe this?
he thought, but then realized it didn’t matter. He would tell no one. “Check her, will you?” He glanced into the backseat, where Cristina lay. Her head had been lacerated pretty significantly.
God, I hope
she doesn’t die
…

Rollin labored to lean into the back. “Her pulse feels strong. Breathing looks regular…”

Vernon squealed wheels around a corner. “So…what exactly happened? Kanesae had—”

“Kanesae had been growing stronger and stronger,” explained the exhausted priest, “as tonight got closer. With her strength came not only her ability to corporate—or become flesh—but her ability to influence her target: Cristina. Once Kanesae’s strength had peaked, she was able to fully overcome Cristina’s will, and I’m sure she’d been gradually doing that all along. It was Kanesae’s goal to manipulate Cristina into drinking the blood in the flagon, but—”

“Paul got to it first, and damn near killed Cristina getting it.”

The priest nodded wearily. “Once Paul had pilfered the flagon and consumed its contents, Vlad’s spiritual agency came into Paul.”

“And then you killed him with the pole.”

“Yes, and not a second too soon.”

“So what happens now?”

Rollin stared out the window, into the throbbing dark. “I don’t know. Kanesae has discorporated. Since the vessel for Vlad’s spirit is gone, I suppose she’ll have no choice but to go to hell—and stay there.”

Vernon let the words sink in.
Jesus. What a night
. He’d 911’d the fire department as he’d sped from the scene and at least saw that the adjoining condo seemed to be evacuating safely.

He skidded to a halt at the ER entrance. “Meet me inside,” Vernon ordered and jumped out. “And don’t talk to anyone.”

Rollin nodded, rubbing his eyes.

Yeah, I’m too old for this, all right
, Vernon agreed as he huffed Cristina’s unconscious form through the sliding doors. Just as two male nurses got her on a gurney, Cristina’s eyes fluttered open.

“Hey. I’m Howard Vernon, I’m a cop.” He squeezed her hand.

Confusion filled her eyes, and she tried to speak but couldn’t.

“Don’t worry,” Vernon said. “You’re going to be okay.”

Finally she uttered, “I…can’t remember.” Then her face paled. “That woman…that nun…”

“She’s gone now. We’ll talk later—”

A nurse shouldered Vernon out of the way. “Step back. We have to get her to x-ray right now.”

“I want to go,” Vernon interjected.

“No way—”

Vernon flashed his badge. “Come on, man.”

The nurses agreed and pushed off, Vernon hustling to keep up. In the elevator, Cristina looked at him again.

“Who did you say you were?”

“I’m a friend of Father Rollin. Do you know who I mean?”

Concentration; then she nodded.

“We brought you here.” But Vernon didn’t want any more talk for now.
I don’t think she’s quite ready to learn that
her boyfriend’s dead, her friends are dead, and her house is on
fire
. “Just relax for now.”

“Okay.”

One nurse pushed the gurney through double doors, but Vernon grabbed the other nurse. “Is she going to be all right?”

“How do I know?” the man snapped. “She could have a concussion, acerebral hemorrhage, a skull fracture.”

“Sure, but—”

“Her vitals are good and so’s her dilation, and that’s all a good sign.” He turned toward the door. “This is as far as you go. Ask reception for updates.”

The doors swung closed in Vernon’s face.

Only now did the totality of his exhaustion fully hit him.
Holy shit
. In the elevator down, two more nurses peered at him, sniffing.

I must smell like a backyard grill,
he realized.

He didn’t see Father Rollin in the waiting room.
Old
bastard probably fell asleep in the car
, Vernon guessed. He got two coffees in the vending room, was about to go outside with them when some heated talk was heard from the reception cove, then—

“Everybody out of the way!” a voice barked. Suddenly lights flashed outside, tires screeched and sirens drew close. A half a dozen uniformed cops rushed through the sliding doors, and raced for the elevators.

What the hell?

Vernon flashed his badge as another cop entered. “What’s going on?”

“Multiple assaults reported from the second floor, sir,” the officer answered without stopping. “X-ray.”

Vernon’s mind blanked. He followed but missed the elevator so he trotted up the fire stairs.

An odd silence filled the hall. No cops were in evidence, but both doors to the x-ray lab were now propped open. Two cops walked out, hands to foreheads.

Vernon rushed in.

Holy Mother of God
…

The two male nurses he’d seen earlier lay twisted on the floor. Both of their throats had been gnawed open, torn veins and arteries showing. Their faces looked wizened, a pale whitish blue. The ends of two snapped-off broomsticks had been rammed through their chests, yet almost no blood had leaked from any of their wounds.

“Where’s Cristina Nichols?” Vernon demanded.

“Who?”

“These two guys brought her in here a few minutes ago for x-rays!” Vernon’s eyes darted around desperately. “Where is she?”

No one answered, but then Vernon noticed two more cops looking perplexed out a nearby window. The window had been smashed from the inside out.

Vernon turned and ran.
Rollin
…He almost tripped going down the stairs. More cops were pouring in when Vernon bulled out through the ER doors into the driveway.

No, no, no
, he thought.

An intern whispered to a nurse, “Must be a full moon or something. I just heard there were two murders upstairs…and now this right at the same time.”

Vernon walked in a daze to the scene. Before his car, several doctors were rising from their knees. An EMT was carrying away a portable defibrillator.

Father Rollin lay stretched out on the pavement, unmoving. Another EMT put a sheet over his face.

A physician’s assistant leaned against the car, writing on a clipboard.

“What happened?” Vernon droned.

“Multiple heart attacks, big ones. We did everything we could.” The P.A.’ s eyes flicked up. “Is your name Vernon?”

“Yes,” Vernon croaked.

“Before he lost consciousness he asked me to relay a message to you. I wrote it down.” And then he took out a small note pad. “But keep in mind, he was delusional at the time, it doesn’t make sense.”

“What…did he say?”

The P.A. squinted at the pad. “‘The flagon was fake. She fooled us.’”

Vernon chewed his lip. “That’s it?”

“That’s it. But you knew the man?”

“Yes…”

“Do you know the nun, too? We’d like to talk to her.”

Vernon suddenly felt as though he were standing on a 100th-floor ledge. “What did you say? A—”

“A nun,” the P.A. repeated without a lot of interest. “Couple people said they saw a nun talking to him just before he collapsed, but”—he glanced around—“I don’t see any nun.”

Vernon stared.

“Oh, almost forgot. The priest asked me to give this to you.” The P.A. pulled something out of his pocket and dropped it into Vernon’s hand.

It was Father Rollin’s cross and a ring with the crest: a dragon strangled by its own tail, and the words, O QUAM MAGNIFICUM, O DOMNUL.