The Book of Death (17 page)

‘I’d better pack this,’ he said
waving the liquid and syringe at Kacy.

‘Why?’

‘Because, well, it’s pretty rare
stuff. And who knows when we might need it again?’

Kacy pulled a face. ‘I can’t
imagine any reason we’d need to use it.’

‘Well neither can I right now,
but things do have reasons, you know.’

‘
Do
they?’ said Kacy
sarcastically.

‘Yes they do.’

‘So give me a reason why you
might need the serum. Go on, give me a good one.’

Dante scratched his chin and
looked deep in thought, not a look that he used often. Eventually he spoke,
albeit somewhat tentatively. ‘What if we get the Eye and get cured? If we were
human again we might need the serum to escape from the vampires in this city?’

Kacy gasped. ‘Oh my God. You
just said something sensible.’

He frowned. ‘I did, didn’t I?’

‘Yeah. That’s gotta be our cue
to get outta here. Who knows what other miracles might be about to happen!’

Dante tucked the syringe in a
pocket inside his jacket, then slipped the small bottle into a pocket on the
front of his jeans. ‘Come on, let’s get outta here. You got everything?’ he
asked, zipping up his suitcase.

Kacy took one last look around
the bedroom before zipping up her own suitcase. It was relatively tidy and
there didn’t seem to be any evidence of any wrongdoing on display. The only
possible problem was that some of Robert Swann’s clothes were left behind, but
that didn’t seem significant enough to worry about.

They headed back down the stairs
to reception. By the time they reached the bottom Kacy was complaining about
the weight of her suitcase.

‘Can you carry mine for me?’ she
whined as they strode into the reception area.

‘Are you kidding? We’ve got
about a fucking two-mile walk to the Swamp.’

‘Oh God. I can’t walk all that
way.’

‘Okay, so why don’t I go pick a
car from the parking lot? Save some time and energy.’

‘I’m all for that,’ Kacy agreed.
‘Don’t know about you but I’m feeling kinda weak. Could really use another
drink, if you know what I mean?’

Dante did know what she meant.
The thirst for human blood was hitting him again too. Was this what it was
going to be like as a vampire? Constantly craving the thrill of drinking blood?
‘I’m thirsty as hell,’ he said, leading the way out to the rear car park.

Once they were outside in the
car park, Dante surveyed the vehicles available. The car park was pretty full.
Cars were lined up in rows of twenty stretching back about ten rows.

‘See anything in particular you
like?’ he asked.

‘Are you kidding? They’re all
covered in snow. They all look the same.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll choose then.’

He picked out his car of choice
very quickly. ‘Wait here and keep an eye out for any cops’ he said to Kacy.
‘I’ll be back in a sec with a car.’ Dropping his own suitcase at her feet he
vanished in between the rows of cars.

Kacy knew that Dante was a good
at breaking into cars. He might well be pretty stupid and lacking in such
simple skills as discretion, but he could break into and hot-wire a car in less
than thirty seconds. Her confidence in him was proven correct when after less
than a minute she heard the sound of a car engine starting up. Moments later
she saw a car moving through the rows, heading towards her. She slapped her
forehead in frustration when she saw Dante’s smiling face behind the wheel on
the driver’s side.

He’d picked a police squad car.

The car crawled through the snow
and pulled up alongside her. Dante wound down the driver’s side window.

‘Chuck the luggage in the back
and hop in,’ he said, accidentally sounding the siren momentarily as he wound
the window back up.

Knowing that there was no time
to argue or point out the stupidity of stealing a police car, Kacy jumped in
and soon they were heading out of the hotel car park and out into the icy streets
of the city.

‘You couldn’t have found
anything less discreet?’ she asked.

‘Always wanted a cop car.’

The police radio crackled into
life as they headed down the main street towards the Swamp. A voice came
through loud and clear.

‘This is
Detective Sanchez Garcia. Request for backup. I’m on the fourth floor at
Remington Tower on 54
^th
 
Street.
I’ve got some unidentified dead bodies here. And there’s blood everywhere. I
think the killings have only just occurred and the killer could still be in the
vicinity. I’m on my own. Please send backup otherwise I’m getting the fuck
outta here.’ There was a pause before he added, ‘I’ve got donuts.’

Dante and Kacy exchanged a quick
look.

Kacy said what was on both their
minds. ‘He just said there was blood everywhere. Fresh blood. Are you thinking
what I’m thinking?’

‘Dante nodded. ‘Yeah. Fresh
blood and we wouldn’t have to kill anyone.’

‘Remington Tower is only a
couple of blocks from here,’ said Kacy.

Dante pushed his foot down hard
on the accelerator. ‘I’ll get us there in two minutes,’ he said.

Twenty

The pool of blood on the
hardwood floor was edging slowly towards Sanchez’s feet. He glanced back at the
dead guy with the pink hair in the hall. The poor bastard’s throat was hanging
out and blood was still seeping out down the front of his shirt. But it looked
like he’d gotten off easy in comparison to the dead woman just inside the door
of apartment 406. Sanchez reckoned she was probably in her early thirties, but
her face was such a mess it was hard to be sure. Her eyes had been gouged out
and her face was caked in blood. She had a bit of a big chin too, he thought
inconsequently. There was blood running all down it, due in no small part to
the fact that her tongue had been ripped out. A quick scan around the room
revealed that she wasn’t the only victim. There were two other corpses inside
the room, both of them in a similar state. But no sign of a killer. Or, for
that matter, Jessica.

The bloodied blouse on the dead
woman had been ripped open and she had vicious deep gashes across her chest. In
fact Sanchez was pretty sure one of her nipples was on the floor near his feet.
Closer inspection of her blouse showed that it had the local hospital logo on
it and the word “MEDIC” sewn in green lettering on the right breast pocket.
Using his new detective skills, Sanchez came to the conclusion that the dead
bodies were that of the ambulance crew.

The two other bodies in the
apartment were in pretty bad shape too. One of them, wearing a standard white
medic’s uniform, was on all fours with his head stuck through the television
screen. Another, a black guy from the ambulance crew, was lying on his back in
a crucifix pose staring up at the ceiling. Well, he would have been staring if
he had any eyes. Someone had gouged them out and all that was left were two
gaping holes. His white uniform was also stained as badly as that of the woman
Sanchez was in the process of stepping over.

Unsurprisingly the place
absolutely stank. At least one of these corpses had shit their pants, Sanchez
decided. The stench made him want to spray some Forest Fresh air freshener
around the room. It was also noticeable that the apartment was as cold as the
streets outside.

The reason for the cold became evident
when a huge gust of wind from outside blew the curtains open.

‘What kind of a moron keeps
their windows open in this weather?’
he pondered, gripping the end of
his nightstick tightly.

Then, behind the sofa, he
spotted two more dead bodies. Both were men dressed in standard blue police
uniforms.

What the fuck?

There was no sign of a bullet
wound on anyone. The murders reminded him of the slayings of his brother Thomas
and his wife Audrey. He had found them murdered in a similar state a year
earlier. The two cops were covered in blood, their eyes were missing and their
tongues not particularly visible. What the hell had gone on here? He leaned
over the nearest dead police officer to get a better look. It was a
forty-something overweight donut loving fellow with grey hair. In a holster by
his ribcage he had a small pistol. Sanchez replaced his nightstick on his belt
and reached down to the pistol. He slipped his fingers around the handle,
hoping to avoid getting any blood on his hands, then slid it out of the holster
and took a look at it. It was largely blood free, or at least, the handle was,
so he gripped it tightly in his right hand. If there was a killer nearby he
needed to be ready to point it and look like he might fire it. He had a pretty
dismal record with handguns, but it was better to have one for show and not
need to use it, than to not have one at all.

Looking for other items that
might be of use he noticed that the cop also had a CB radio on his belt.
Sanchez had wanted a CB radio ever since he was a kid. He hadn’t been issued
with one by the department, so seeing as the dead cop wouldn’t be needing his
any more it seemed logical to relieve him of it. He picked it up and secured it
on his belt next to his nightstick. Then he resumed his assessment of the crime
scene.

‘Jessica?’ he called out rather
tentatively. ‘Jessica? You in here? Hello? Anyone?’

He received no answer, apart
from another billowing from the cream coloured curtains. On his right there was
a kitchen area and in the corner was an open door that led to a narrow
corridor. At the end of the corridor was a closed door. Gun in hand, Sanchez
decided to investigate. There could be more dead bodies behind that door, or
worse still, the killer could be hiding in there. But, on the off chance that
Jessica was in there, it was worth talking a look. And where was Beth Lansbury?
Maybe
she
had killed everyone? After all, she was mental. And this was
her apartment.

As he stepped into the corridor,
he noticed another door in the wall on the left. A bathroom perhaps? He reached
for the doorknob and turned it slowly with his free hand, keeping his gun at
the ready just in case. The door creaked as it opened inwards. Directly in
front of him, he saw a white toilet. Using his newfound detective skills he
deduced that it was indeed a bathroom. And there were no signs of any violence
in it, not even so much as a skid mark down the back of the toilet. Peering
right around the door he was pleased to see that there was no one hiding
inside.

He backed out of the bathroom
and tiptoed towards the door at the end of the corridor. By now he could feel
his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing was louder than he would have
liked too. Dreading what he might find, he took a deep breath and turned the
doorknob. He threw the door open and jumped back, pointing his gun into the
room, just in case. No noise came out. All he could see was a blue coloured
wall opposite and the end of a bed on the left. He edged forward and peered
around the doorway. There was nothing of any interest inside, just a perfectly
made bed, a dresser and a walk in wardrobe. The room seemed completely
untouched by the carnage that had gone on in the living room area. Breathing a
sigh of relief he tucked the gun into the back of his pants and stepped back
out, closing the bedroom door behind him.

It looked as though the killer
had fled, possibly at the sight of Sanchez arriving to investigate, so he was
in the apartment on his own. This would be a good time to call for back up, he supposed.
He pulled the CB radio from his belt and radioed in to the police frequency.

‘This
is Detective Sanchez Garcia. Request for backup. I’m on the fourth floor at
Remington Tower on 54
^th
Street. I’ve got some unidentified dead
bodies here. And there’s blood everywhere. Reckon the killings have only just
occurred and the killer could still be in the vicinity. I’m on my own. Please
send backup otherwise I’m getting the fuck outta here.’ Sensing that no one
would come without a decent incentive, he added.
 
‘I’ve got donuts.’

But first things first, now that
the adrenaline rush brought on by checking the apartment for signs of the
Bourbon Kid was subsiding, he felt a desperate need for a piss.

He walked back into the bathroom
and lifted the seat on the toilet. He tucked his gun into the back of his pants
and unzipped his fly. There was nothing quite like unleashing his special
homebrew on the world to relieve a tense situation. As he listened to the sound
of piss hitting water in the toilet below, he pondered what might have become
of Jessica. Maybe she had escaped through the open window in the living room?
That was a possibility. She was a resourceful young lady. In fact maybe she was
out there hanging off the window ledge waiting for him to come to her rescue?
It was definitely worth checking.

He finished his piss and zipped
up his fly. As he reached forward to flush the toilet, the handgun that he had
tucked neatly into the back of his pants slid out. No, it was pulled out.

Uh-oh.

He heard a loud click. Someone
had released the safety clip on the gun.