Interesting Times (Interesting Times #1) (11 page)

“I know
why you are here, of course,” Blackwell continued. “It seems the lizards are
quite eager to see the end of you, Mr. Jones. Filthy creatures,” he sniffed,
taking a sip of wine.

Oliver
was stunned. John Blackwell knew about the Kalatari? What
else
did he
know? 

“You’ve
spoken to Artemis, then?” Sally asked.

“Indeed,”
Blackwell said again. “I must say I’m surprised that she is intervening in this
matter.” He nodded at Oliver. “I take it he has some importance of which I am
unaware?”

“Yes,”
Sally said. “It is very important to
Artemis
that he be unharmed.”
Oliver didn’t miss her putting emphasis on the girl’s name. Sally looked
warningly at Maria, who simply stared back at her, her blank expression
betraying nothing.

“Then
unharmed he will remain,” Blackwell smiled. “I receive so few visitors.
Interesting ones, that is. I’m simply dying to get acquainted with you, Mr.
Jones.”

“I want
your word that…” Sally began.

“You are
on the verge of being rude,” Blackwell cut her off sharply. “I have said he
will remain unharmed, and so that is how it shall be.” Blackwell turned and
began to walk back to the house. Sally’s hand moved an inch closer to her
jacket pocket, where Oliver knew she had a pistol waiting. Oliver saw Maria
shift her body weight almost imperceptibly. Waiting for Sally to make the first
move, he thought. 

“I’m
fine,” Oliver said to Sally. “But aren’t you staying, too?”

Sally
shook her head, relaxing only slightly. “I have to get back to the city. Find
Tyler, if he’s not back to himself yet. Then we’re going to start hitting the
Kalatari.”

“Hit
them?”

“That
wasn’t clear enough?” she asked. “We’re going to fuck them up until they tell
us what’s really going on with you.”

“Oh,”
Oliver said. He felt a little guilty. “It seems like…well, I should be helping
you.”

Sally
started to smirk but stopped when she saw the earnest look in his eyes. “You
really mean that, don’t you?” she asked. “That’s nice. But you’ve got a target
on your back. We’re not going to get anything done if you’re tagging along.”

“Sally,
dear, are you staying or going?” Blackwell called over his shoulder.

“Going,”
she replied. She looked at Oliver. “Be good. Keep your hands to yourself in
there and stay out of trouble. We’ll be back for you.”

“All
right.” Keep his hands to himself? He wasn’t so awed by Blackwell’s wealth that
he was going to try to steal an ashtray or something.

“Come
along, Mr. Jones,” Blackwell said. Maria had stepped in front of her employer
and was holding the front door open for him. “We’ll be much more comfortable
inside.”

Oliver
watched as Sally turned the car around and drove away. He could see Jeffrey
looking at him from the back window. He almost expected the cat to wave to him.
As soon as they were out of sight he turned and followed Blackwell past Maria
into the house.

This
wasn’t such a bad situation, he thought. It wasn’t like he got a chance to talk
with someone in John Blackwell’s position every day. The man was one of the
shrewdest investors on the West Coast. With a little luck, he’d be able to
convince the man to put some money into Western Pacific Capital. His bosses
would forgive him nearly anything if he could bring in a new client with such
deep pockets. In his line of work, making money was more important than a
little indiscretion here or there. Nobody would ever mention the strange events
that had taken place at his office ever again. Things were really looking up.

Maria
closed the door behind them. She turned back to Oliver and smiled at him,
revealing a pair of sharp fangs where her canine teeth should have been.

Oh
,
Oliver thought. Maybe things weren’t looking up, after all.

Chapter 12

Blackwell
caught Oliver staring at Maria’s teeth. “Oh, don’t mind that,” he said
dismissively. “She won’t hurt you. Come along into the study.” He paused. “Oh,
dear, where are my manners? Would you care for a glass of wine?” He held up his
own glass. “This is a rather cheeky Bordeaux, but my cellar is extensive, if
you’d like something else.”

Oliver
was unable to take his eyes off of Maria, who looked back at him with barely
concealed amusement. “Mr. Jones, it is rather rude to stare,” Blackwell chided
him. “Come now, this can’t be the first time you have seen a vampire.”

“It is,
actually,” Oliver admitted.

“Oh my,
really?” Blackwell frowned. “How dreadful. What a dull life you must lead.”

“I used
to think so,” said Oliver. Up until yesterday, it had been true. He was
beginning to miss that dull life.

Another
woman approached them, a busty redhead in a dark gothic dress which seemed to
be made almost entirely out of gossamer lace. She carried a silver tray which
held two glasses of red wine. Oliver couldn’t help but notice the woman’s
unusually pale skin.

“Ah,
yes,” Blackwell said. “Thank you, Chantal.” Blackwell drained the glass he’d
been drinking from and placed it on the tray. He removed both of the new
glasses and offered one to Oliver. “Please, Mr. Jones.”

Oliver
took the glass out of politeness. He was about to take a sip when a sudden
thought occurred to him and he stopped, looking at the red liquid suspiciously.
Blackwell laughed pleasantly and Oliver saw a small, evil smile on Maria’s
lips. “I assure you, Mr. Jones, it is merely wine,” Blackwell said. “Well, I
shouldn’t say
merely
. It is very good wine. But it is only wine.”

Oliver
raised the glass again, sniffed at it, and then took a small, tentative sip.
Wine. And an excellent wine, at that. Oliver was not a connoisseur. He’d always
thought that people who described wine as “having a good nose” or “tasting of
cherries and pine trees” were just bluffing in an attempt to impress others.
But in this glass he could taste far more than simple fermented grape juice. He
thought about the flavors as he swirled the wine around in his glass. Honey?
Blackberries and…was that
chocolate
?  Where could he get wine like this?
And could he possibly afford it if he did find it?

“Excellent,”
Blackwell smiled. “Cheeky, wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t
know,” Oliver admitted. “But it is very good.”

“Prepare
a room for our guest,” Blackwell instructed Chantal, who turned and disappeared
down the hall. Oliver watched as the pale woman left them. 

“Is she
a…” he began to ask.

“Oh,
indeed,” Blackwell said.

Oliver
frowned. “So is that her uniform or something?”

“I do
like the classics,” Blackwell smiled, seeming just slightly embarrassed. “Not
that I’m ever going to wear a cape, of course. That is an unfortunate
stereotype.”

Oliver
nodded before he realized the implications of what the other man had just said.
He looked at Blackwell in surprise. “You?”

“Of
course,” Blackwell said. He smiled widely and Oliver could see that he had
fangs as well.

“Of
course,” Oliver sighed. Legendary hedge fund manager John Blackwell was a
vampire. He lived in a big house with his vampire bodyguard and his vampire
maid and…Oliver’s eyes widened. “Is everyone here…” he began.

“I’m
afraid so,” Blackwell said, nodding. He noted Oliver’s startled expression.
“Never fear, my dear boy. Nobody will harm you. To do so would invite my
punishment, and I’m afraid I am rather strict about that sort of thing. Come
along. The study is this way.”

Blackwell
led Oliver into a magnificently appointed study that was nearly as big as
Oliver’s entire house. The furniture was early 20
^th
century in
style. If Oliver had seen it yesterday he’d have assumed it was all replica,
but now he had to wonder if these were originals that Blackwell had collected
over the years. 

“Cigar?”
Blackwell offered, sitting down.

“No,
thank you,” Oliver said.

“Just as
well,” Blackwell said. “They are terrible for you. That is of less importance
to me, of course.”

“Vampires
don’t get cancer?” That question had never occurred to Oliver before. Nor had
it occurred to any rational person, ever, he thought.

“Of
course not,” Blackwell said, looking at Oliver like he was an idiot.

“Yeah,”
Oliver nodded, sipping his wine. It really was excellent. He wondered if
Blackwell would offer him another glass. 

“So,”
the other man said. “Tell me, Mr. Jones, why do the lizards want you dead?”

Oliver
didn’t know where to start. “I really don’t know,” he finally admitted. “This
has been the craziest day of my life.”

“You
must have done something to upset them, did you not?”

“I’d
never even seen one of them before tonight,” Oliver said. “A…a
Kalatari
.
I’d never even heard that word before. This time yesterday I wouldn’t have
believed they even existed.”

“That
must be frustrating for you,” Blackwell noted sympathetically.

“I’m
just a regular guy,” Oliver said. “I’m a stock analyst. I look at spreadsheets.
I write reports. The truth is I’m incredibly boring.”

 “I
don’t think that’s boring,” Blackwell said. “Analysis paid for everything you
see in this house.” Oliver saw Maria smirk. “Well,” Blackwell said, catching
her eye, “analysis, and just a bit of ruthlessness.”

Oliver
drank more of his wine, wanting to ask an obvious question but not wanting to
sound foolish again. “You’re a vampire,” he finally said.

“Had we
not established that already?” Blackwell asked.

“But
that’s wine you’re drinking, isn’t it?”

Blackwell
peered at his glass curiously. “Why, I do believe it is,” he said, as if he
were realizing that for the first time.

“Shouldn’t
you be drinking…you know.”

Blackwell
raised his eyebrows. “Blood?”

“Yes.”

“I
do
drink blood,” Blackwell said, as if he were talking to a child. “I must do,
don’t I? Tell me, Mr. Jones, do you drink water?”

“Of
course.”

“Must
you not drink water in order to live?”

“Yes.”

“Do you
drink
only
water?”

“No.”

Blackwell
raised his glass to Oliver. “Cheers.” He took a drink.

Oliver
wasn’t sure that analogy would hold up to much scrutiny, but he got the point.
“So this is…” he looked at Maria. “All these people are your vampire family, or
something?”

“Or
something,” Blackwell replied. “We are not the
Munsters
. A few of the
staff here were already vampires who chose to serve me. The others were humans that
I turned myself. As such, they are my subjects, and I am their master. Isn’t
that right, Maria?”

“Ever
yours, my master,” Maria said, tilting her head at him in an odd sideways nod.

Oliver
was beginning to feel a bit tipsy. Had he had too much wine already? He really
was a lightweight. “I find it safer to surround myself with those I know to be
loyal,” Blackwell continued. “Take Maria, here. She has been with me for…”

“One
hundred ninety-eight years, my master.” She seemed to be beaming, Oliver
thought. He suspected her feelings for Blackwell went far beyond simple loyalty.

“Ah,
yes.” Blackwell swirled the wine in his glass, then drained it. “We will have
to do something special for your two hundredth birthday,” he said to her.
“Think it over and let me know what you’d like.”

What did
vampires get for their birthdays, Oliver wondered. A victim with an unusual
blood type? He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“You
really have no idea why the lizards want you?” Blackwell asked Oliver. He
sounded disappointed.

“None.
Really.”

“Hmm.
Well, they are despicable creatures. No sense of class at all. They really
can’t die out fast enough, if you ask me.”

“Sally
said something about that.  They had a civil war?”

“Religious
divisions would be a better way to put it. I don’t know what they argue about,
truly. Perhaps some think god has one tail, while others think he has three
tails.” Oliver saw Maria smirk again. “It hardly matters. They’ve slaughtered
themselves out of a viable breeding stock. They have perhaps a hundred years
left. After that they’ll be a memory.”

Not for
most people, Oliver thought. But something had occurred to him. “You mentioned
religion? We heard that they had killed someone else over a prophecy, but that
turned out to be part of a trick to get me out of hiding.”

“There
could be some truth to that,” Blackwell admitted. “Prophecy is something they
take very seriously. I do find it unlikely that they would have a prophecy
involving you, however. Prophecies about stock analysts must be fairly rare, I
would think.”

“Yeah.”
Oliver had to agree that that was probably true.

“And how
do you know your new friends?” Blackwell asked. “You’ve met Artemis and Tyler,
I’m sure. And of course poor Sally Rain.”

“Poor
Sally…” Oliver began to ask, but then decided he was more interested in a
different question. “What exactly is Artemis? She looks like a little girl,
but…”

“Exactly?”
Blackwell asked. He shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I met her for the first
time when I was very young. She was already old, even then. And by your
standards, Mr. Jones, I myself am positively ancient.”

“I’m
almost afraid to ask,” Oliver said. Any number of questions had occurred to him
in the last few minutes. How much of what he had seen in the movies was true?
Were vampires really immortal? Did they live forever, unless someone got lucky
with a wooden stake? Did wooden stakes even work? What about sunlight and
garlic?