Stalking the Vampire (25 page)

“We're on our way,” said Mallory.

“Anything else I can do for you?”

“See if you can contact my partner, Winnifred Carruthers, and tell her to meet me back at the office.”

“Roger, over and out,” said the hacker.

Mallory retuurned the phone to the bartender, then walked out into the street, where he found his crew waiting for him.

“Did you learn anything useful?” asked Nathan.

“That's what we're going to find out,” said Mallory.

“Are we getting close, do you think?” asked McGuire as they walked through the lightly falling rain.

“Another two blocks,” said Mallory.

“I mean to Vlad, not to the cemetery.”

Mallory shrugged. “I don't know. I hope not.”

“
What?
”

“You know the damage he can do. Are
you
ready to come face to face with him?”

“Then why are we trying to hunt him down?” demanded Nathan.

“It's like sports, or to use an example you'd understand better, it's like sex,” answered Mallory. “Everything depends on timing.”

“I
don't
understand,” protested the dragon. “Are you trying to find him or not?”

“Yes, of course I am.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

“If he's waiting for us at the entrance to the cemetery, he's meeting us on his terms,” said Mallory. “I prefer to meet him on mine.”

“
Have
you any terms?” persisted the dragon.

“I'm working on it.”

“I know you must be good at your job,” said McGuire, “or the Grundy would have killed you a long time ago. But I sure as hell don't see how you can meet Vlad on any terms other than his own.”

“That's why I'm the detective and you're the sidekick,” answered Mallory.

“Is that the only answer I'm going to get?” demanded the little vampire.

“For the time being.”

“Oh, this is
good!
” said Nathan enthusiastically.

“What is?” asked Mallory.

“My book!” answered the dragon. “Well,
our
book. The hero has figured out the mystery, and now the readers have to see if they're as smart as he is.” Nathan took out his notebook and began scribbling furiously.

“There's no mystery,” said Mallory. “We know that Vlad killed Rupert Newton. And I'll give plenty of eight-to-one that we've already solved the location of his coffin.”

“Say, that's right,” said Nathan. “Good. Now we're done with the hard part. This is the point where Wings O'Bannon refreshes his spirit one last time—”

“By which you mean he beds one last 42-23-35 nymphomaniac,” interjected Mallory.

“—and goes in with guns blazing to take care of the bad guy.”

“You think blazing guns will take care of Vlad Dracule, do you?” said Mallory.

“Well, blazing wits,” amended Nathan.

“Can you accept a gentle criticism, Scaly Jim?” said the detective.

“What is it?”

“Don't give up your day job.”

“Well, if you're not going to shoot him, and you can't outfight him, and you're not going to confront him, what
are
you going to do?”

“Improvise.”

“You're a very frustrating person to talk to,” complained Nathan. “How can I do my research if you won't share with me?”

The Hills of Home Mortuary, Cemetery, and Delicatessen loomed just ahead of them. There was a large building right at the street, with the cemetery spread out behind it.

“I suggest that you start researching where his casket is,” said the detective.

“There are dead people here,” said Felina, sniffing the air.

“There usually are at a cemetery,” replied Mallory.

“Not all of them are in the ground,” she added.

“Let's go in and find out where the rest of them are,” suggested Mallory, walking up to the building that held the mortuary and the deli.

“Maybe I should stand guard out here,” said McGuire nervously.

“Suit yourself,” said Mallory.

“Of course,” continued the little vampire, “if something attacks, I'd be facing it alone, wouldn't I?”

“Why would anything attack you? You belong here, in a manner of speaking.”

“I most certainly do not,” said McGuire, his gaze darting from one shadow to another. “I belong in my room, under my covers, reading a good book.”

“I'll be happy to give you one if we survive the next two hours,” offered Nathan. “Real cerebral stuff, with an exquisite felicity of expression, a certain
je ne c'est quois
, and a lot of guns and broads.”

“
Lots
of dead things,” said Felina, staring into the darkness at something only she could see.

“Maybe I'll come inside with you,” said McGuire. “After all, I did volunteer to protect you.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” said Mallory, opening the door.

“Welcome to the Hills of Home,” said a cheerful white-haired man. “Are you the bereaved or the newly deceased?” He stared at McGuire. “Or a little of both?”

“I'm just here to ask a few questions,” said Mallory.

“Wonderful!” said the man. “I love quizzes! While we're taking it, I can offer you a beautiful velvet-lined coffin, or perhaps a knish and some chopped liver, depending on your needs?” He studied Felina. “Or maybe some lox?”

“Let's start with the questions,” said Mallory.

“Ready,” said the man. “Gypsy Rose Lee, an hour and thirteen minutes, and Butte, Montana, in September of 1926.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Mallory, confused.

“My first three answers, of course,” said the man. “Now let's see if the quality of your questions is up to the quality of my answers.”

“Why don't you let me ask my questions first, and then try to answer them?” suggested Mallory.

“But that's so commonplace,” protested the man. “By the way, we haven't been introduced.” He extended his hand. “My name is Hermes.”

“Mallory.”

“No, Hermes.”

“I meant that
I'm
Mallory.”

“Pleased to meet you,” said Hermes. “You sure I can't interest you in some cheese blintzes, covered with sour cream and topped off with cinnamon sugar? Or maybe a funeral in any of the seventy-four most popular religions, with two hundred guaranteed mourners, at least three of which will have hysterics and have to be sedated?”

“Blintzes!” said Felina.

“You don't even know what a blintz is,” said Mallory.

“If it's smaller than me, who cares?” said Felina. She smiled. “It doesn't even have to be dead. Yet.”

“Later,” said Mallory, as the cat-girl turned her back on him and began assiduously licking a forearm.

“So, Mr. Mallory,” said Hermes, “can I get you something from the deli, or are we going to play more guessing games?”

“Let's try a question,” said Mallory. “How many vampires leave their coffins here?”

“None,” replied Hermes. “Sooner or later they all take them away.”

“Let me rephrase that: How many vampires currently have their coffins here?”

The old man scratched his head. “Maybe thirty, maybe thirty-five. Can't be more than forty, and that's a fact.”

“Why not?”

“Only got forty private mausoleums. Wouldn't do for a vampire to bury his coffin in the ground. He'd have to dig it up every time he wanted to catch forty winks.”

“What's a wink?” asked Felina, turning to face him. “Are they good to eat?”

“Next question,” said Mallory.

“You didn't answer your ladyfriend's question,” noted Hermes.

“She's not my ladyfriend, and I'm asking the questions, not answering them,” said Mallory. “Next question: Do any of the mausoleums have a coffin from Transylvania?”

“Is that anywhere near Pennsylvania?” asked the old man.

“Let's try another,” said Mallory. “The particular vampire I'm after has
been in Manhattan for less than a week. How many coffins have you taken in during the past six or seven days?”

“Maybe fifteen or so,” said Hermes. “They travel a lot, vampires. Always seeking fresh blood, so to speak.”

“Have you got a list of those fifteen most recent arrivals?” asked Mallory.

“Sure have.”

“Can I see it?”

“No reason why not,” said Hermes. “I'm always open to negotiation.”

“How much?”

“I can't take a bribe to reveal confidential information,” said the old man. “That's against the law.”

Mallory frowned. “What do you want, then?”

“Your cat-girl sounded pretty hungry. How'd you like to buy her two pounds of gefilte fish?”

“Deal,” said Mallory. “We'll pick it up on our way out of here.”

“Give me a minute to make up the list,” said Hermes, pulling out a thick ledger, a sheet of paper, and a quill pen.

“I want my gifted fish now,” said Felina.

“They're your payment for helping me,” said Mallory. “First you work, then you eat.”

“How soon?” she demanded.

“Very soon.”

“Good. I've never had a gifted fish before. Maybe we can have a nice educational chat before I kill it.”

“Here you are,” said Hermes, handing a sheet of paper to Mallory.

“I don't understand,” said Mallory, reading the paper. “These aren't numbers.”

“The mausoleums aren't numbered. Each one has a classical or mythical name. These are the names of the ones that have the recent arrivals.”

“And where are they?”

“Out back,” said Hermes, pointing. “You can't miss them. Or maybe you can.” He handed Mallory a flashlight. “Here. You'd better take this.”

“Thanks.”

Mallory led his companions out to the rows of stone mausoleums. As he
came to one that's name matched a name on the paper, he opened the door and called Felina over.

“We're looking for the same person who was at the dialysis center in the Village,” he told her. “Take a whiff and tell me if this is where he lives.”

“He doesn't
live
at all,” said Felina.

“Where he stays,” amended the detective.

They went through the first dozen mausoleums with no luck. Then they came to the one marked
Styx.
As soon as Mallory cracked the door open Felina's entire posture changed.

“This is it, isn't it?” asked Mallory.

She nodded.

“Is he here now?”

“No.”

“Let's hope you're right,” said Mallory, entering the small structure, followed by Felina, Nathan, and McGuire.

There was a hardwood coffin lying on the floor. It had numerous words carved on it, in a language Mallory couldn't read.

“Let's open it up,” he said.

“What if Vlad's in it and we wake him up?” asked McGuire nervously.

“He's not,” answered Mallory. “Felina would know if he was here.”

“What if she's wrong?”

“I don't know about you,” said Mallory, unlatching the top of the coffin, “but I'll be very unhappy about it. Come on, Nathan—give me a hand.”

The detective and the dragon opened the coffin and looked in. The bottom was covered by perhaps an inch of dirt. Mallory reached down and picked up a handful.

“Pure Transylvanian soil,” he said, letting it slide out through his fingers.

“Okay, we found his coffin,” said Nathan. “He's due back sometime in the next hour and a half, so now what do we do?”

“Now we get to work,” said Mallory. “Nathan, there's got to be a caretaker's cabin around here, and there has to be some grave-digging equipment. See if you can scare up a shovel or two. If not, I suppose even a dustpan will do.”

“Right,” said the dragon.

“Bats,” continued Mallory, “stay here and if Vlad shows up, give a holler.”

“I'll give a scream you wouldn't believe,” answered McGuire. “Right before I take off like a Bats out of hell.”

“Felina,” said Mallory as he left the mausoleum and headed back to the main building, “you come with me.”

When Mallory arrived, Hermes was waiting for him.

“Got my flashlight?” asked the old man.

“I'll need it a little longer,” replied Mallory. He pulled some cash out of his pocket and handed it to Hermes. “For the gefilte fish. She earned it. And toss in some lox, too.”

“It's a pleasure doing…whatever it is we're doing, with you, young man,” said Hermes.

“I need two more favors,” said Mallory. “First, have you got a couple of buckets, or if not, some sturdy garbage bags?”

“Got both,” said the old man. “Take your choice.”

“Thanks. And can I borrow a phone for a couple of local calls?”

“Sure.”

He led the detective to a telephone. Mallory dialed his office. Winnifred wasn't there yet, but he left her a message telling her what he wanted her to do. He made one more call, and then, while Felina happily stuffed her face with gefilte fish, he found two empty buckets in the deli's kitchen and went back to the mausoleum.

“Is Nathan back yet?” he asked McGuire, who was guarding the door.

“Yes,” said the little vampire. “He's inside.”

“Good. Come in with me and make yourself useful.”

They entered the mausoleum.

“What did you find, Nathan?” asked Mallory.

“A shovel and a dustpan,” answered the dragon. “I hope you're not going to suggest that we dig a grave and bury the coffin.”