05 The Tour
The man knew how to kiss.
But she had been serious about the kiss goodbye. She had no idea how this would turn out but she had to let it play and see. Worst case? He died. Perhaps horribly. Mahin had been in a mood lately. Best case? She saved Serita, solved her tax problem and secured the property. But what would she have to give up? What would he want?
She hurried down the steps to the east courtyard and he followed closely.
What was she going to do about her job? Technically, with Adam’s help, the project was back on track. But should she keep working there? She wanted that bonus. She wanted that promotion. He talked like they had mutual interests but he could get what he wanted and turn her in. She had absolutely no reason to trust him.
But she wanted to.
Her life up to that point had consisted of kill some monsters, survive, save some monsters, survive, surf the weird, survive. Taking the job had been a mistake but it could have been good and she had to do something about the taxes or find another way to secure the property. If Adam could help and she could manage to not owe him everything then that could be good as well. But he wasn’t stupid and he wouldn’t work for free. He made deals and kept secrets and made secrets and had dealings with assholes like Frank.
Messing with Frank had been fun. And the fact that he let her mess with Frank wasn’t lost on her. They played that scene like a script and it felt good to have that for a moment. Someone with you, beside you.
Geez, her brain was all over the place.
She started to shake her head as she walked across the courtyard but caught herself. He was watching and the smallest gesture or turn of phrase would be analyzed and judged. Adam was smart, focused and connected.
But connected to whom? That was the real question in a sea of uncertainty. Who read his reports? The government? Someone else’s government? She had to know so she could make real decisions. Otherwise she had to go with it and find Serita.
“This is the staff’s wing?” he asked.
She stepped over an overgrown flower bed and onto a walk that led to a breezeway. “We stay out of the main building,” she replied. “Mostly. It’s creepy and run down. It’s easier to maintain this wing.”
“Electricity?”
“The building is hard wired to the grid.”
“Because it was a fallout shelter,” he said, thoughtfully. “An official one.”
“Yeah, we stay out of that as well,” she said.
The breezeway ended in a door, heavy and industrial. Her hand went to the handle, but she paused. A chill crept up her spine. A finger of fate. Past this door and they could never go back. For better or dead. Past this moment and this man was in her life and nothing would ever be the same. Not that anything up to this point was something she wanted to cling to. But change was happening.
She took a breath and pulled the door open. Yellow light spilled into the darkness as she led the way into the kitchen.
Pappi sat at the table, a coffee cup in front of him. His dark eyes, bracketed in dark, weathered skin slowly looked up. He kept his hair and beard in dreads and they flew wild tonight. But otherwise he seemed rather unassuming in his striped pajamas and an old robe and slippers.
“Well, well,” he said, his voice silky and southern. “I was expecting company.”
Adam arrived beside her. A moment of silence ensued as the two men appraised each other. A long moment. Too long.
Did these two know something she didn’t?
“What’s going-” she started.
“I get that thing,” Pappi interjected, as he stood up, his chair screeching on the old linoleum. “That thing with my elbow when folks are coming by.” He navigated around the heavy table, leaning on it for support as he moved. When he cleared the table he approached Adam, hand extended. “Pleased to meet you, young man.”
“Adam Trajan,” Adam said, taking the offered hand.
“Most wouldn’t remember my name so most just call me Pappi.”
Adam nodded as he released Pappi’s hand.
Ophelia looked from one to the other. Something was going on.
“So, do you two-”
Honi slid into the kitchen from the hallway to the left, gripping a simple gown in her hands.
“Pappi Pappi Pappi,” she said excitedly. “I can’t find Mahin. Just her clothes.”
Her eyes locked onto Adam and she squealed and began quickly running in place even as she tried to back out of the room.
“Honi, wait,” Ophelia said but then Adam barked a phrase in Japanese and Honi stopped and blinked. Adam bowed deeply and spoke more Japanese. Honi’s hands came to her side and she responded in Japanese as she returned the bow. Adam recovered and reached into his pocket as he crossed the room to Honi and produced a business card case. He pulled one card out, stopped in front of Honi at a respectable distance and presented the card to her with both hands and a small bow. She stepped forward and took the card and examined it closely. Then she closed her hands over the card almost reverently and bowed again while softly speaking more Japanese. Adam shook his head slightly and returned the bow.
The ritual done, Honi’s face lit up in a warm smile.
“Oh, he is slick,” Pappi whispered.
“Yup,” Ophelia replied.
“Forgive me,” Adam said, turning. “Ms. Patrova is an associate of my father’s and I was merely expressing my gratitude for her attention to his needs.”
“Your Japanese is very good,” Honi whispered to Adam and he turned a smile dripping with innocent charm to her. Ophelia bit down on a bit of jealousy that arose from nowhere.
Pappi returned to the table and eased himself down. “Would you like some coffee, Mr. Trajan? Water’s still warm.”
“No, thank you. And please call me Adam.”
“I will do that,” Pappi said. “What do you think of our asylum?”
“I’m impressed. I love this style of architecture. I would love to see the rest of it.”
Ophelia motioned Honi over who lightly stepped around Adam and Pappi’s conversation.
“He seems so nice,” she whispered as she approached.
“Yeah, he’s a peach. Now listen, I need my kit from my room. The red duffle bag, not the black one. Some new vampires are going to eat Serita and we are going to stop them.”
Honi’s eyes widened. “Got it,” she said and turned but then turned back. “I couldn’t find Mahin,” she said and handed her the gown. Then she slipped into the darkness of the hallway that led to the apartments only to reappear a second later, followed by Mahin.
“Found her,” Honi said, brightly but then dashed from the room like she had done something wrong.
Mahin stood naked at the edge of the darkness. She appeared to be as old as Pappi and her body showed the torment of time on a dancer’s frame. Her limbs ranged long beneath slightly sagging olive colored skin. Her jet black hair had faint traces of gray and her eyes sparkled green behind eye liner and eye shadow reminisent of ancient Egypt.
“Here he is,” she purred. “The suitor. The savior.”
“Dammit, woman, where are your clothes?” Pappi growled.
“Here,” Ophelia said. She gathered up the gown as she moved to Mahin and dropped it over her head. Mahin did not resist, lifting her arms to pass through the sleeves. When her head popped through the neckline, her eyes locked onto Ophelia.
“Did you fuck him?” she hissed. “I can’t tell.”
“None of your business,” Ophelia said flatly as she pulled at the shoulders of the gown to adjust the fit. “Please be nice.”
“Always,” she sighed and then turned to Adam, took a dancer's step towards him and extended her hand, palm down and limp wristed like a debutant. “And this is?”
Her and Frank would make a pair, Ophelia thought.
“Adam, this is Mahin,” she said formally. Mahin enjoyed formality. “Mahin, this is Adam Trajan.”
Adam read the clue and took the offered hand and kissed it gently. But Ophelia could see the tension rise in him. It almost radiated only because she had never seen him nervous or concerned before. Something about Mahin bothered him enough to crack that calm and cool exterior.
Mahin could do that to people.
“A true pleasure,” Adam said.
“Charmed, I’m sure,” Mahin replied. “He is quite lovely.”
“Be nice,” Ophelia warned.
“A lovely, lovely boy.” Mahin’s eyes sparkled with power as she leaned in towards Adam. She sniffed and smiled. “So lovely,” she whispered. “Like a dream. Like a beautiful dream.”
Adam visibly stiffened. Ophelia moved to interject herself between them when Pappi spoke.
“Mahin,” he said sharply. “These two have work to do.” Pappi moved back to his chair and coffee.
Mahin inhaled deeply. “Yes, they do. They must recover the watcher, the watcher of the dream, they must. And then we can dream.” Her eyes closed and she seemed to drop into a sensual trance. “You must dream, Adam.”
He took a step back. Mahin’s eyes snapped open and she glared at him, obviously offended. “You would run from me?”
Ophelia stepped in. “Anyone would, Mahin. You are crossing lines again. Remember we talked about boundaries?”
“Fah!” she spat and in an instant she was less the primal projection of something ancient and terrifying and more the dottering aunt. She stepped around them and to the chair across from Pappi where she sat down with some flourish. Her gaze fell on the coffee cup. “Where’s mine?”
“Make it your damn self,” Pappi said.
“Where is Honi,” Mahin said without missing a beat.
“Right here, Miss Mahin,” Honi sang as she entered with the red duffle bag that she passed to Ophelia.
“I need coffee.”
“Of course!”
“Honi, you do not have to wait on her,” Ophelia said.
“I don’t mind.”
Mahin beamed at her. “She doesn’t mind, dear.”
“Well, she should.”
Mahin dismissed Ophelia with a wave and then glared at Pappi. “Did you know they were coming?” she snapped.
Pappi lifted his elbow from the table and pointed at it. Mahin huffed and rolled her eyes.
“And has anyone seen Monsieur Portier?” she asked. “He should meet Adam.”
“He’s in the bath,” Honi answered as she spooned instant coffee into a mug. “I think he said he wanted to be alone and would not tolerate company tonight.” She leaned toward Adam and whispered, “My French is not that good.”
Ophelia decided then and there that if Adam smiled at her, she would officially lose it. Instead, Adam pulled his phone from his pocket. He thumbed open a screen and then lifted his eyes to Ophelia and gave a slight nod.
“Where?” she asked.
“Blue Bronco Bar and Grill.”
She nodded. “Northside. Past the bridge. Boarded up as far as I know.”
He thumbed to another screen. “No sign of a child yet. But lots of activity.”
“I’ll change and we can go.”
•
After she changed, he said his goodbyes, politely but quickly and she took him back to the courtyard and down another flight of steps to the main garage. Ophelia pushed up the rolling door and stepped into the darkness and flipped a switch. Lights flickered on revealing a massive truck, an old military two and a half ton monstrosity with a flatbed, painted matte black.
“I’ll need you to drive,” she said as she headed for the passenger door but he still stood outside the garage, staring at the truck. “I know you can drive a stick.”
“Well, yes,” he said. “But we could take the car.”
Ophelia shook her head. “This is going to get bloody. Do you want that in your friend’s car?”
“I suppose not,” Adam said after another moment of hesitation. He walked to the driver's side and climbed into the cab. Ophelia pushed her duffle into the floorboard and joined him.
“That switch to your left. And you have to warm up the glow plugs.”
He didn’t seem completely lost. The engine fired up with a satisfying growl. But then he stomped on the clutch and pushed on the gear shift and started grinding gears to find first. It hurt her heart.
“Stop, stop, stop,” she snapped. “Ease back on the clutch like an inch.”
Adam looked at her, did as he was told and then pushed the stick into first gear.
“Is this thing even street legal?” he asked as he eased the truck out of the garage.
“Legal enough,” she replied, pulling a tactical vest out of the duffle bag. “But don’t get pulled over. Most of my hardware isn’t.” She slipped on the vest over her black t-shirt and zipped it up. Then she pulled handfuls of shotgun shells from the bag and began sorting them into bands of elastic on the front of the vest. Slugs on the right, buckshot on the left. Ten on each side in two rows of five. Next came the sawed off pump shotgun that was way too short especially with the stock sawed down to a pistol grip. She loaded it with more shells. A slug in the chamber with five buckshot in the tube.
Ophelia tucked the shotgun back into the bag and put her left boot on the dash, unlaced it and tucked in her cargo pants. Adam cast glances at her but said nothing. Left boot done, she switched to the right.
“You’re not going to ask?” she said.
“Ask what?”
“About my crew.”
He shook his head. “I don’t even know where to start.”
She had to smile. “It’s a bit much, I’ll admit.”
“Start with Honi,” he said a bit too quickly and that jealous fire flared again.
“What about her?”
“How long have you known her?”
“I met her in a homeless shelter years ago. We’ve been there for each other ever since.”
Adam nodded. “If I asked her not to mention me to my father, would she agree?”
Ophelia glanced at him as she put her boot on the floorboard. “Probably,” she said as she rummaged in the duffle again, producing a .45 caliber pistol. She ejected the clip, checked the rounds and then slammed it home, jacked the slide and eased the hammer down. “Is your father going to be a problem?”
Adam frowned. “Possibly.”
She leaned forward and tucked the .45 into her waistband behind her back with her left hand. “You know,” she began. “How should I say this?” Ophelia settled into the seat and turned slightly toward him. “What is your potential ratio between problems you can solve for me and problems you’re going to create for me?”
“I could easily ask you the same thing,” he said with a snort that was almost dismissive. “Before tonight, I had suspicions about vampires and maybe a few theories about some oddness in the world. My current ratio of normal to oddness is severely skewed at the moment.”
Opheila shrugged. “I warned you.”
“Yes, you did,” he said, flatly. “Tell me about Pappi.”
“What’s your first impression?” Ophelia asked. She was genuinely curious.
“Power,” Adam responded. “A lot of it. He hides it well. Mahin does not.”
She nodded. “I’ll tell you what they told me but only because no one will believe you if you tell anyone else.” She wondered how much he would take before screaming “Bullshit!” and running off into the night.
“Understood,” he said and ground the gears into fourth.
“Geez, be gentle,” she said. “Should I drive?”
“I’ve got it,” he said.
She took a breath, almost sighing. “Okay, about two years ago I was looking into rumors of a haunted abandoned nursing home on the lower south side of town. I was messing with Frank at that point, indirectly, tracking his pets and trying to catch them in the act of feeding. Plus I have a passing interest in ghosts.”
He nodded.
“So I go investigate and discover our little terrible trio squatting in the ruins. They had been residents and something happened. That something was probably Mahin but I won’t get into the grisly details. At that point, Honi had an apartment but it was small. So I bundled everyone up and moved back to the asylum.
“Moved back?”
Ophelia looked out of the passenger window at the city slinking by.
“Yeah,” she said. “Five years ago, I woke up in the tunnels of the fallout shelter under the asylum.” She looked at him. “I could remember my name. That was it. No idea how I got there. No memories of who I was before.”
Adam nodded again.
“I didn’t want to go back,” she continued. “Bad memories. But I had few options.”
“Who are they?” Adam asked.
“Ancient gods. Dark powers. Eldritch beings from the outer darkness.”
“Seriously?”
Ophelia nodded. “Around 1946, some cultists put together all the right words and opened a gate and summoned Pappi, Mahin and Monsieur Portier. The cultist didn’t survive. Monsieur Portier closed the gate since gates are his thing and here they are. Pappi says that he looked around at the state of mankind and decided he was outgunned. Humans had these incredible new weapons and he wasn’t sure he could stand up to them. So they hid. And now they wait and they watch. Or at least Pappi does. Mahin is crazy and Monsieur Portier has projects.”
“Incredible,” Adam almost whispered.
“Yup.”
“And you help them? Protect them?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Are they controlling you?”
Ophelia shook her head. “Mahin has tried and she can’t. I think it has something to do with my implants.”
“Speaking of, you have no memories of what your implants are?”
“I know who they are. I don’t know what they are.”
The Blue Bronco Grill came into view about a block away. Adam switched off the lights and pulled the truck over to the curb, set the brakes and killed the engine. Ophilia counted herself impressed that she didn’t have to tell him to stay back from the Grill. However, now was the moment that she had to make her move.
She pumped her reflexes just a bit. Her left hand flashed to the pistol in her belt and she had it at his temple before his hand left the ignition switch.
“So let’s get back to that whole problems-solved-versus-problems-created thing again,” she said.
