Guilty Pleasures

Bruce was in the doorway, ice pale. “He…he tried to kill you.” His voice cracked with fear.

“Do you recognize him?” I asked.

He shook his head over and over again, rapid jerky movements.

“Are you sure?”

“We…we do not…condone violence.” He swallowed hard, his voice a cracking whisper. “I don’t know him.”

The fear seemed genuine. Maybe he didn’t know him, but that didn’t mean the dead man wasn’t a member of the church. “Call the police, Bruce.”

He just stood there, staring at the corpse.

“Call the cops, okay?”

He stared at me, eyes glazed. I wasn’t sure if he heard me or not, but he went back inside.

Ro

“Jesus,” she whispered.

“Yeah.” I still held my gun loose-gripped in my hand. The danger seemed to be over. Guess I could put away the gun. “Thanks for pushing me out of the way,” I said.

“You’re welcome.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Thanks for shooting him before he shot me.”

“Don’t mention it. Besides, you got a piece of him, too.”

“Don’t remind me.”

I stared at her. “You all right?”

“No, I’m well and truly scared.”

“Yeah.” Of course, all Ro

I heard the distant whoop-whoop of police sirens. They must have been damn close, or maybe it was another killing. Possible. Would the police believe he was just a fanatic trying to kill The Executioner? Maybe. Dolph wouldn’t buy it.

The sunshine pressed down around us like bright yellow plastic. Neither of us said a word. Maybe there was nothing left to say. Thank you for saving my life. You’re welcome. What else was there?

I felt light and empty, almost peaceful. Numb. I must be getting close to the truth, whatever that was. People were trying to kill me. It was a good sign. Sort of. It meant I knew something important. Important enough to kill for. The trouble was, I didn’t know what it was I was supposed to know.

Chapter 35

I was back at the church at 8:45 that night. The sky was a rich purple. Pink clouds were stretched across it like cotton candy pulled apart by eager kids and left to melt. True dark was only minutes away. Ghouls would already be out and about. But the vampires had a few heartbeats of waiting left.

I stood on the steps of the church, admiring the sunset. There was no blood left. The white steps were as shiny and new as if this afternoon had never happened. But I remembered. I had decided to sweat in the July heat so I could carry an arsenal. The windbreaker hid not only the shoulder rig and 9mm, plus extra ammo, but a knife on each forearm. The Firestar was snug in the i

Of course, nothing I was carrying would stop Malcolm. He was one of the most powerful master vampires in the city. After seeing Nikolaos and Jean-Claude, I’d say he ranked third. In the company I was judging him against, third wasn’t bad. So why confront him? Because I couldn’t think of what else to do.

I had left a letter detailing my suspicions about the church and everybody else in a safe deposit box. Doesn’t everybody have one? Ro

One attempt on my life and I was getting all paranoid. Fancy that.

The parking lot was full. People were drifting inside the church in small groups. A few had simply walked up, no cars. I stared hard at them, Vampires, before full dark? But no, just humans.

I zipped the windbreaker partway up. Didn’t want to disturb services by flashing a gun.

A young woman, brown hair style-gelled into an artificial wave over one eye, was handing out pamphlets just inside the door. A guide to the service, I supposed. She smiled and said, “Welcome. Is this your first time?”

I smiled back at her, pleasant, as if I wasn’t carrying enough weaponry to take out half the congregation. “I have an appointment to see Malcolm.”

Her smile didn’t change. If anything it deepened, flashing a dimple to one side of her lipsticked mouth. Somehow, I didn’t think she knew I’d killed someone today. People don’t generally smile at me when they know things like that.

“Just a minute; let me get someone to handle the door.” She walked away to tap a young man on the shoulder. She whispered against his cheek and shoved the pamphlets into his hands.

She came back to me, hands smoothing along the burgundy dress she wore. “If you’ll follow me?”

She made it a question. What would she do if I said no? Probably look puzzled. The young man was greeting a couple that had just entered the church. The man wore a suit; the woman the proverbial dress, hose, and sandals. They could have been coming to my church, any church. As I followed the woman down the side aisle towards the door, I glanced at a couple dressed in postmodern punk. Or whatever phrase is common now. The girl’s hair looked like Frankenstein’s Bride done in pink and green. A second glance and I wasn’t sure; maybe the pink and green was a guy. If so, his girlfriend’s hair was a buzz so close to her head, it looked like stubble.

The Church of Eternal Life attracted a wide following. Diversity, that’s the ticket. They appealed to the agnostic, the atheist, the disillusioned mainstreamer, and some who had never decided what they were. The church was nearly full, and it wasn’t dark yet. The vampires had yet to show. It had been a long time since I’d seen a church this full, except at Easter, or Christmas. Holiday Christians. A chill tiptoed along my spine.

This was the fullest church I’d been to in years. The vampire church. Maybe the real danger wasn’t the murderer. Maybe the real danger was right here in this building.

I shook my head and followed my guide through the door, out of the church, and past the coffee klatch area. There really was coffee percolating on a white-draped table. There was also a bowl of reddish punch that looked a little too viscous to be punch at all.

The woman said, “Would you like some coffee?”

“No, thank you.”

She smiled pleasantly and opened the door marked “Office” for me. I went in. No one was there.

“Malcolm will be with you as soon as he wakens. If you like, I can wait with you.” She glanced at the door as she said it.

“I wouldn’t want you to miss the service. I’ll be fine alone.”

Her smile flashed into dimple again. “Thank you; I’m sure it will be a short wait.” With that she was gone, and I was alone. Alone with the secretary’s desk and the leatherbound day pla

I opened the pla

Ned was a short form of Edward, just like Teddy. Had Malcolm had a meeting with the hit man of the undead? Maybe. Maybe not. It could be a clandestine meeting with a different Ned. Or maybe Bruce had been away from the desk and someone else had just filled in? I went through the rest of the pla