Red Tide: The Flavel House Horror / Vampires of the Morgue (The Ian McDermott, Ph.D., Paranormal Investigator Series Book 2) (24 page)

Simultaneously, Ian and Ned heard the sound of a helicopter as it came rushing in from downriver. In mere moments, the helicopter had landed on the roof of the warehouse nightclub. Ian and Ned could only surmise that it had been called in to pick up Salizzar and any of his more important cronies. Not two minutes passed before the helicopter left, heading towards the ocean.

Then came a giant explosion. Fire burst out, shattering all of the warehouse’s windows at once. People began pouring out of the nightclub, mainly by way of the external fire escape stairway located on the other side of the building.

Ian thought,
No loose ends. Tonight was always going to be the last night for this business. Time to open up shop elsewhere.

Then came the welcome sound of sirens.

Ned took Ian’s Glock 9mm and put it in his pocket. He then quickly pulled the body of Special Agent Alisha Simmons into the burning warehouse, and did the same with the body of the dwarf. He left the massive-sized body guard where he lay just outside the doorway to the warehouse. Ned then took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and with it, he snatched up the bloody remains of Agent Simmons’ heavily chewed-on heart and tossed it into the burning building as well. He fired Ian’s Glock once into the building then also tossed it into the now raging inferno. Lastly, he pulled out his cell phone and made a brief call to the Coast Guard.

Ian was too stunned to even speak as he watched Ned. Once Ned’s desperate tasks appeared to have been completed, he walked briskly up to Ian. “You didn’t really think I was the mole, did you?”

Ian looked at Ned suspiciously. But then smiled as he shook his head and replied, “No.”

Ned spoke as best he could though he was winded from all the heavy lifting and fast moving. “Ian. What we just … I mean what I saw, it’s not possible. I mean, maybe Salizzar slipped me some kind of hallucinogenic, ‘cause what I saw … It’s just not possible, is it?”

Ian looked Ned straight in the eyes. “Ned, in my business, I’ve learned that, believe it or not, monsters do exist. Most are of the human variety. Some aren’t.”

Ned just stared for a moment blankly at the ground while he shook his head slowly from side to side. He then took a deep breath and looked once again at Ian. “Fuck me! I just don’t … I mean I can’t! Well anyway, Salizzar’s not the only one who knows how to tie-off loose ends. Nothing makes sorting things out more difficult than fire, especially one like this. The FBI will look into Agent Simmons’ death. With her totally burnt remains, they’ll note her heart was somehow extracted, but it will be impossible to determine exactly how. They’ll conclude it was done by Salizzar or his people, harvesting organs. Nothing will make much sense, but nothing in cases like this ever does. It will settle itself out in time. By the way, I shot the bodyguard, but before he keeled over, he knocked the Glock from my hand, and it flew into the warehouse. You didn’t fire a weapon. Fact is, you weren’t here at all. Understand?”

By now, the entire lower part of the warehouse was a fiery inferno. Ned took a deep breath before continuing. “The truth is, and I wouldn’t have believed it in a million years if I hadn’t heard the Fed’s tapes myself, it was Chief Mooney! Yeah! He was the mole all along. Just today, he tried to recruit me into the ranks. After I pretended to agree, he said for me to contact Salizzar tonight, that I’d help in shutting down their business. Yeah, the Feds had all the chief’s phones tapped. Hell, come to find out they had all our phones tapped for some time. Ian, I’m really sorry about your dog. Scout was his name, right? An ex-cop dog. That dog was a bona fide hero in my book. As are you, Ian. Yeah, that dog of yours saved both our lives. I’ve been told if I put in for Chief, the job’s mine. Hell of a way to get a promotion. Oh, and about what we saw or think we saw here tonight, no way that part’s going into any report. Not the way it happened, anyway. Shit, they’d have my shield in a New York minute if I said anything about monsters; more than your run of the mill serial killer anyway. Ian, in the basement … in the walk-in freezer. Body parts galore! Bags of blood! A regular human meat market for real. But as far as much valuable evidence, it’s all gonna go up in flames, making identification pretty much impossible. They knew what they were doing. These guys are pros at their sick business. They had this entire place rigged with remote-detonating incendiary explosives. Like I said, no loose ends. No matter who Salizzar managed to get in his pockets at the courthouse, no judge will deny us a search warrant any longer. We’ll search his place and the Flavel House with a fine-tooth comb first thing in the morning as soon as I get a judge to sign the warrant. In the meantime, we’ll have officers surrounding his place all night. I’ve already issued the order. But I’m not figuring we’ll find a damn thing. I called the Coast Guard about the chopper. Maybe they’ll get lucky and find ‘em before …”

Ian interrupted, “No. They won’t find them. That was an extremely high-speed turbo-copter, and they’ll no doubt have landed on some ship out at sea by now, and the chopper’s probably either been stashed in the belly of some freighter, or intentionally sunk to the bottom of the ocean. Loss of money and assets means nothing to these … No. These people, or whatever you want to call them, are massively funded. Too connected and too smart. As far as the Flavel House, you won’t find a thing. Like you said, Ned, these guys leave no loose ends. And somehow, I seriously doubt if Salizzar’s body is ever discovered either.” Ian suddenly began worrying about that very thought.

Ned nodded his head in agreement and said, “Speaking of the Flavel House, looks like the Clatsop Historical Society’s gonna get it back. I heard by Salizzar’s own doing he put into some contract that if the place was ever left abandoned, it reverts back to them as owners. I figure the son-of-a-bitch was so arrogant he didn’t want it ever again to be anyone’s private home.”

Teary-eyed, Ian exclaimed, “Yeah, you’re probably right. Oh, and you’re also right about a hell of a way to get promoted. But if it’s any consolation, a good friend of mine, a lawman like you … He got promoted somewhat similarly. But in that case, a good man died leaving very big shoes to fill, but he will do just fine ‘cause he’s a good man. A credit to law enforcement like you, Ned. You’re a good man who’s gonna be replacing a real piece of shit, a man who covered up and even aided in the deaths of who knows how many people. Anyway, congratulations!” The two men shook hands.

Zoey came running up to Ian and threw her arms around him. She had been too stunned to even move from the car for a number of minutes. She hadn’t been able to make out many details, but she’d seen Scout’s sacrifice. Zoey was heartbroken for Ian as well as for herself. She’d loved Scout too.

Ned walked up to Zoey. “Get him the hell out of here right now. I’ve got it from here. The Fire Department will be working all night. It will be their valiant efforts to save as much of the docks as possible. That will more than effectively pressure-wash away any blood evidence from around the place. Fire and water. Between that combination, there won’t be much left of any viable evidence beyond the murders committed by Salizzar and his bunch for the surmised purpose of trafficking organs and body parts. You both have my word. Neither of you will be implicated in this mess in any way.”

Ned walked over to Ian and shook his hand once again as he spoke. “Hell of a Halloween.” Ian didn’t reply. He just bowed his head and nodded silently in agreement.

Zoey put her arm around Ian and they began walking from the burning warehouse across the pylon-suspended parking lot over to Ian’s rental car. When they were about ten feet away, they both noticed something dark, wet, and filthy but very much alive lying on the ground by the driver’s side of the car.

“Oh, thank you, thank you, God!” Ian exclaimed as loud as he could as he started running towards his best friend.

* * *

Regardless of the best efforts made by the Astoria Fire Department, it was just as Ned had predicted. The warehouse fire rapidly become totally out of control; a blazing, three-story inferno. There was nothing the firemen could do other than protect as best they could the neighboring buildings and try and maintain the structural integrity of the surrounding docks by continuously hosing them down. It was obvious to everyone present that by morning The Morgue would exist no more, and there would be nothing left of the surrounding docks by the time the fire eventually burned itself out.

CHAPTER 22

All Saints Day - Stranger Than Fiction

Ian was awakened by his cell phone’s alarm at 7:30 ... morning came early, too early. The subject of Ian’s impending departure, all the while they’d been together, had remained unspoken, but Ian and Zoey both knew that today was the day they’d been dreading.

Zoey rolled partially over on top of Ian and began kissing his neck. Within minutes, they retreated back into their own little world for the better part of the next half hour.

* * *

After their lovemaking concluded, Zoey was the first to sheepishly speak. “I guess you’ll be heading out of town now that that nasty bit of business in Astoria’s done with,”

Ian didn’t answer right away. But after a couple of uncomfortably silent moments, he replied, “Yeah, I’ve got to go where my business leads me. Maybe you could come with me?”

Zoey replied, now teary-eyed, “We both know I can’t do that. I have my shop and …”

Ian nodded his head as he spoke, “Yeah. I know, I was just wishful thinking.”

Ian then tried to sound a little more upbeat. “But maybe someday, right? I’m guessing that I’ll be coming back this way pretty often, especially since Clayton and I have become sort of business partners.”

Zoey kissed Ian on the cheek and smiled at him, “You better.”

Ian then got up and stretched his back. “Besides, I’m too old for you, Zoey. We both know that.”

Zoey frowned as she fired back, “No. We both don’t know that. I don’t know that. You’re perfect, and we’re great together, and that’s all I’ve got to say on the matter. Changing the subject. Are you going to tell me exactly what happened on the pier last night? I mean, besides the people getting shot and the fire. I couldn’t really see that much from ...”

Ian took a deep breath, exhaled, and replied, “One day, I will. One day soon. Suffice it to say, it’s going to sound just as crazy as what I told you happened at Harmony Falls.”

Zoey sighed as she wiped tears from her eyes, “Well, we’ve still got today. I’m definitely not working today. I’ll call my shop just before it opens and have them reschedule my appointments, or … Anyway, today we relax and have some fun.”

Ian smiled as he replied, “Sounds great. Hmm, check-out’s not till 11:00. We don’t have much to pack up. We could go hot tub till then. Hey, do you like museums and lighthouses? And does picnicking by the ocean and taking a long walk on the beach sound good?”

Scout had been cleaned up nicely, and his wounds had been well dressed as soon as they’d gotten back to the condo last night, but he was still a bit weak and worse for wear. He lay resting in front of the warm gas fireplace. But when he saw Zoey smiling and her mood lifting, Scout began wagging his tail.

Zoey bounded out of bed and into Ian’s arms. “I love museums and lighthouses. And the rest, well, it all sounds perfect!”

* * *

The sun had set. Ian was racing up the peninsula as fast as he dared to drive. He had retrieved his Jeep from storage just minutes before. The manager of the storage facility, Bill, said he’d been instructed to return the rental car for Ian.

The Jeep’s headlights seemed to dance a bounding jig of illumination on the roadway ahead due to its failing shocks and struts. When Ian arrived at Clayton’s house, he pulled into the driveway, threw his Jeep into park, and switched his engine and headlights off. Ian got out of his vehicle, hardly noticing that Scout was acting uncharacteristically agitated.

Ian walked briskly up to the front door and rang the doorbell. After the third chiming of the bell, Clayton appeared with a smile that was nothing short of beaming.

He greeted his guest, “Ah, Ian. So glad you dropped by. Won’t you please come in.”

Ian followed Clayton on inside his house. But there was something about the way Clayton had invited him in that made the hairs on the back of Ian’s neck stand on end. Also, he noticed that Clayton didn’t have his typical cane in hand and was no longer walking with a limp.

“Ah, Ian. A joyous All Saints Day to you, my friend. A day for restoring balance to the universe after a night of giving the Devil his due, so to speak. I was so glad to hear you were unharmed during your Knight’s Quest to slay the dragon and save my little princess.”

Ian looked Clayton up and down. He was also glad to see that his new friend looked and seemed to be … fine? “Yeah, luckily. It seems, anyway, that everything worked out. Scout went a few rounds with Salizzar. He’s gonna need some time to get back on his paws. Luckily, most of his wounds were not too deep. Mostly superficial. Zoey and I were able to patch him up. After a number of days of rest, I think he’s gonna be fine. Fact is, he’s healing at what I would consider to be an abnormally fast rate. Might have something to do with biting a vampire?”

Ian looked sheepishly at Clayton, hoping he would have something to say on the subject, but Clayton said nothing. He continued, “There was a terribly tragic loss of life, like that of FBI Agent Alisha Simmons. And there were people inside the club that didn’t make it out and some that got pretty banged-up. But the loss of life wasn’t nearly as bad as it could have been, I suppose. On the less-than-tragic but nonetheless unfortunate side is the property losses from the burning buildings, and … but you know doubt know all of that.”

Clayton interrupted, “Yes, well, all that will be rebuilt. I’ve heard from very reliable sources that the Astoria City Council is planning as we speak for an entire newly-developed waterfront, one that will attract lots of upscale bistros and shops that will dramatically expand the attraction of tourist dollars. And that idea has my fullest support. No more nightclubs from hell.”

Ian was starting to become more uncomfortable by the moment, though he wasn’t certain why.

“Clayton, how about you? I mean, you look great. Now that Salizzar is no longer a threat, you must …?”

Clayton began laughing. “Yes, that bit about Salizzar. It’s refreshing when a carefully-orchestrated plan reaches fruition. But as for him no longer posing any potential future threat … I wonder. It’s difficult to know these things with absolute certainty, having not recovered irrefutable proof of his demise. Any corporeal remains, so to speak.”

Ian was now both uncomfortable and totally confused. “Plan?” he asked, almost not wanting to know the answer.

Clayton motioned for Ian to follow him into the living room. “Please, Ian, come on in, and let’s go sit down. I’ll elaborate. After all that you’ve been through, I feel as friends, I owe you that much. And we are friends, are we not?”

Ian replied without hesitation, “Yes, Clayton. I believe … I certainly hope that we are. But I’ve got a question that I’m hoping you will answer. Just exactly who and perhaps better said ... what ... are you?

Clayton, with a very sly grin on his face, replied, “Well, I have been known by many names, some of which achieved varying levels of notoriety – and some fame continued long after they became, supposedly, dust to dust. But the roles I played, and we are all mere players, Ian, have long passed. I am a writer Ian. I’ve been a writer for centuries. Alas, poor Salizzar. I knew him well. A man, so to speak, of excellent fancy as you know. But also a creature of infinite jest, who I’ve bore on my shoulders a thousand times.”

Ian’s eyes widened. Even though the words had been colorfully twisted, he recognized them at once. “You were Shakespeare?” Ian nearly shouted.

Clayton began laughing though he did not answer. But after he stopped laughing, he walked over to his typical chair of choice and sat down. He then spoke. “Ian, the next thing you’re going to ask me is if I was Bram Stoker or Percy Shelley, a man who had the ear of his wife regarding a story she wrote that was generations ahead of its time. Or perhaps you might even believe that I was Edgar Allen Poe? That would be a tale to tell. Not for faint of heart indeed if it were true.”

Ian, speechless at the very possibilities, plopped down on the couch. Neither man said anything further as they stared intensely at each other for what was only a few uncomfortable seconds but to Ian seemed an eternity.

Just when Ian’s tension had built to a point that he was nearly becoming faint, Clayton finally broke the ice. “Ian … Dear Ian. Salizzar was an ancient and a malevolent menace, that much is true. The rest … Well, that will be a good topic for another time. As far as Salizzar or Prince Vlad III of Walachia, if you’re to believe much of anything I may tell you, colorfully referred to in history books as Vlad the Impaler, good riddance to him. When dealing with the supernatural, Ian, one must ask oneself, is seeing believing? Or rather, is believing seeing?” For a mere fraction of a second, Ian thought that he’d seen fangs emerge from behind the lips of his host, but he couldn’t be certain.

Ian’s chest began constricting, growing tighter and tighter. His pulse pounded as his stomach began to churn. He was becoming physically ill as well as frightened to near panic. But he attempted with all of his might to maintain the best poker face he could muster.

“Ian, you’ve probably figured out by now that I wasn’t infected by Salizzar. I’ve been who, or some might say what, I am for nearly a millennium. You see, most of what I’ve conveyed to you up until now is truth but on a need-to-know basis. If it is ultimate truths that you seek, I urge you to take great caution, for with such wisdom comes much danger.”

Clayton gave such a look of intensity after speaking his last words, Ian couldn’t help the cold shivers that ran between his shoulder blades.

“Ian, know this. Many of we elders of our community live like kings. But I’ve chosen another path this last century. A change of pace, if you will. So here I sit beside you a modest author of horror fiction living a somewhat humble life, though I’ll admit I do appreciate the adoration I occasionally receive from fans of my writing, and suffer bouts of damaged ego from critics that find my work, shall I say, unappealing. Not unlike any mortal, vampires have feelings, likes and dislikes. But such feelings, even that of deep affection, can at times be dwarfed by primordial urges.”

Ian mused silently as Clayton paused for a moment,
Dwarf. I hope I never hear that word again.

Clayton continued, “Anyway, in this life and many others before, I am an author of the macabre. Befitting, wouldn’t you agree? You see, I too in my own way, like Salizzar, have been hiding or existing, as it were, in plain sight. Just how would the youth of this decade put it? Ah, yes. On the down-low.”

Ian sat staring at Clayton. He was momentarily scared speechless.

Clayton continued, “Ian, as a ranking ancient, an elder, I am what you might call a councilman for our community, and as such was charged with orchestrating the demise of Salizzar, who was always a bit of a rebellious renegade. One whose flamboyance and insatiable appetites, but more to the point, choice of vocation, was drawing much too much attention. You see, we’ve existed since the dawn of creation primarily under the auspices of the assumption that we can’t possibly exist. But alas, one of our unspoken cardinal laws is no vampire can dispatch another. Hence, even we vampires, not just you humans as I’ve mentioned before, need the occasional Van Helsing.”

Ian, still in shock, finally managed to speak. “Um … I suppose you’re going to kill me now. No loose ends.”

Clayton smiled. “That is what the majority of the council wanted. But fortunately for you, Ian, there was one councilman who spoke up on your behalf. He assured the rest that you would pose no further direct threat regarding our exposure.”

Ian cleared his throat. “That councilman with your community that spoke on my behalf … Am I correct in assuming that was you?”

“Of course, Ian. What are friends for? Besides, it wasn’t that difficult for me to convince the council on your behalf. After all, though unknowingly, you did us a great service. I’m sure you can understand how difficult it is to find a good monster slayer these days. Yes, Ian, if you haven’t figured it out yet, the council has known all about your recent endeavor ever since your nasty soiree with that loathsome lycanthrope Gevaudan. It was mutually fortuitous that you decided to investigate the problems across the river here in my little coastal neck of the woods.”

Ian’s elevated pulse began to slacken just a little. He was coming to the realization that he wasn’t about to die. But with that realization came a sudden embarrassment regarding his naiveté to the bigger picture, and with his newly acquired knowledge also came the cold epiphany regarding how he’d been so dispassionately manipulated by his friend. He was disgruntled at the idea that he’d been so used as an expendable pawn in such a deadly game. And by such supernaturally masterful players, whose vast knowledge and power positioned them far beyond the reach of any one mere man such as himself or any law enforcement agency or even government. For all Ian knew,
Theirs may be the hands that pull all the strings
.

Clayton picked up and took a sip from his wine glass, which had been sitting on the end table next to his chair.

Before Ian had even thought through what he was about to ask, he blurted it out. “Clayton, you spoke to me the other day about the power of three. If I understood any of it correctly, that is the somewhat vampiric law of physics.”

Clayton smiled, “Yes, aptly put. That is essentially correct. Tell me, Ian, what’s on your mind regarding that particular aspect that rules our community?”