Fratricide, Werewolf Wars, and the Many Lies of Andrea Paddington

  * * *

  Truman wasn’t happy. As an American, he didn’t seem to understand the driving British need to apologise, to make sure a slight didn’t offend. He was more concerned with plans and strategies than with manners. But Paddington thought it important that Clarkson apologise and Truman relented in the end.

  So Paddington and Joel and Clarkson were soon on their way to the Crypt nightclub. Paddington to keep the peace, Clarkson to apologise, and Joel because… actually, he was only there because Paddington had insisted. His official reason was that having a policeman might help them if they got into trouble, but Joel didn’t believe that.

  The Crypt was abandoned from the outside. It was just after six a.m. Usually the Crypt was open until sunrise; it was one of their selling points. Why close more than an hour early? Had everyone left? Surely the action meant more people would be around and drinking?

  They headed inside – no bouncer, odd – and down the stairs. The stony air greeted them, but loud music did not. Had they closed? Why was the door open, then?

  Not closed. The booths around the room were occupied, but no one was on the dance floor. People turned as they entered, but Joel didn’t feel a rise of anger in the group. It was barely a group, for starters: these were empty people in mostly-empty booths quietly nursing drinks strong in alcohol instead of fruity and colourful.

  If it weren’t for Suzi at the bar, Joel would have thought they were in the wrong place.

  “That’s her,” Clarkson said.

  Paddington led the way and placed his good hand on the top of the bar. His left hand remained in his coat pocket.

  “What can I getcha?” Suzi asked when she spotted a figure there.

  “A quiet word,” Paddington said.

  Suzi looked up. “Oh hey, Joel. And… Theodore!” She froze staring at him. Terrified. “I almost didn’t recognise you without your suit.”

  Clarkson had changed into his Team uniform before leaving. He’d muttered something about having to subdue some assailants last time, which Joel assumed meant he’d started a fight and didn’t want to be recognised. Combined with his now-bowed head rather than his previous strut, it was actually hard to recognise him as the same person from a distance.

  Paddington looked over his shoulder. “Theodore?”

  “What?” Clarkson asked. “I couldn’t tell her my name is Kevin.”

  Suzi took a moment away from her fear. “Your name is Kevin?”

  “See?” Clarkson said. “No mystery at all, Kevin.”

  “Is there somewhere we can talk more privately?” Paddington asked.

  “Uh,” Suzi said.

  “He won’t hurt you,” Paddington said, nodding at Clarkson. Kevin. Whoever.

  Suzi put down the dishcloth she’d been wiping against the bar’s surface and led the way to the back rooms. Joel went last so Paddington’s overcoat would block the view of how short her short shorts were.

  “What’s this about?” she asked, when they’d turned off the corridor for one of the storerooms.

  “Clarkson has something to tell you,” Paddington prompted before sitting on a crate.

  “Look,” Clarkson started, “when I talked to you earlier today, I wasn’t completely honest.”

  Suzi looked at him, one cute blonde eyebrow flicking up. “Uh huh. About what?”

  “Everything.”

  “You’re not a vampire?”

  “Okay, that was true. But the rest of it? A huge vat of boiling lies. For instance, I haven’t been slowly wandering the world over the last few hundred years and I didn’t stumble across this town by chance. I’m not a freelance consultant for Hollywood vampire film writers. I’m a policeman and I came to Estika to stop the count and his family.”

  “Why? Are they bad vampires or something?” Oddly, the idea seemed to excite, not repel, her. In fact, she was looking with less fear at Clarkson and more… wonder?

  As for bad vampires, Clarkson took his time weighing the options so Joel jumped in. “Yes they are. They’re trying to fulfil a prophecy which will kill me and end the world.”

  “And you came to save us?” she asked Clarkson. “All of you,” she added to Joel and Paddington, but it was evident she’d found the cloud’s silver lining and its name was Kevin “Theodore” Clarkson.

  “Yes we did,” Paddington said.

  “I didn’t,” Clarkson said, half-raising a hand. When Suzi looked at him in confusion he added, “Sure, they kind of treat me like a disgusting but endearing dog, but that’s not so different to how people treated me back when I was human. And I defy any man to catch as much tail as I have over the last three years.”

  “You’ve only been a vampire for three years?” Suzi asked. “You said you were hundreds of years old.”

  “Yeah… I was just playing at being a vampire.”

  Suzi frowned. “But you are a vampire.”

  “I didn’t say he made sense,” Paddington said, one hand over his face and barely awake.

  “So… wait… Is Theodore – Kevin – a bad vampire?”

  “He’s more of a… jerk… than anything,” Paddington said.

  “I prefer the term ‘neutral’,” Clarkson said.

  Suzi flicked a piece of hair away from her eyes and looked at Joel. “You have weird friends.”

  “I know,” he said. “Want to be one of them?”

  “What?”

  What? Good question, that one. He wasn’t even sure why he’d asked it. It had popped into his head and he’d just… said it. He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to give her a few weeks before even suggesting anything. Before making “his move”. By then, he’d either be dead or in the clear. And he certainly didn’t intend on asking while anyone else was present. He preferred his humiliations in private.

  Instead of waiting or thinking, though, he’d spoken.

  “It’s just that, you seem pretty on top of all this,” Joel said. “You’re not scared; we could use someone like that. I mean, if you’re interested. I don’t want to pressure you, obviously, but…” But what? Why was he still saying things? Why weren’t the others stopping him?

  A canny light came on in her eyes. “Joel Beck, are you… It sounds like you’re asking me out.”

  Ah. He was actually kind of hoping it wouldn’t sound like that, since that was basically what he was doing.

  “Would that be the worst thing in the world?” he asked. Oh dear, he’d done it again. His mouth had opened and his voice had spilled forth, like bilge or bile. “The timing is… I know. It’s a bad time. I didn’t mean to rush… We need your help.”

  She conveyed dismay through the medium of the eyebrow. “With what? Clearly everything I know is lies.” The last was directed at Clarkson, who’d stepped back. Probably less to give him privacy than to disappear into the background.

  “You’re part of the vampire scene,” Joel said. “You know the girls who were bitten better than we do.”

  “Yeah, well, that vampire worship stuff? That’s behind me now. Ever since I saw him tear through everyone.” She gave a little shudder. “I can’t believe I was actually happy to see them earlier this evening. I thought they were coming for me.”

  “On the dance floor, you mean?”

  “Back here,” Suzi said. “I was getting another keg and they walked straight past.”

  Didn’t they come in the front door, past Mitchell? Joel had been focussed on the fight the wolves were starting; he hadn’t seen where the vampires had come from. They’d all assumed it was the stairs because there was only one entrance to the Crypt.

  Except, apparently, there was another.

  “Where did they come from?” Joel asked.

  “Down there.” Suzi pointed out the door and down the corridor to the manager’s office. Joel entered without knocking. If anyone was in, he’d claim it was official business. No one was in, though, so he couldn’t look all tough and demanding in front of Suzi. He had to settle for rummaging around for clues with Cla
rkson and Paddington while Suzi lingered near the door.

  The office was small and decorated in drab black lace and leather, which hung from the walls as art and from coat hangers as clothing. They rustled and swayed as the three searched the room for a secret passage or hiding place. They found a safe fairly quickly, and a collection of explicit magazines, and a very poor filing system, but there were no bookcases with trick books and every wall sounded like reinforced concrete.

  After a few minutes, Paddington sat on the manager’s chair to catch his breath. He was flagging fast. How much more could his brother endure? When had he last slept? Should he be under medical supervision?

  “Wait,” Paddington said. The fingers of his right hand dangling by the chair, wiggled. “The air here is cooler.”

  Joel rushed past him to the back wall. He came in close. No hidden doors there, unless the whole wall was a door.

  Oh.

  At the edge, where the draped cloth was thickest, if Joel looked very closely he noticed the tiniest hairline fracture running from the ceiling to the floor. This had to be the door. Shoving it had no effect, nor did sliding. Even with Clarkson’s muscle it took several tries to budge the wall a foot.

  That explained why Phaedra hadn’t opened the door herself and escaped earlier in the night. She physically couldn’t; she’d had to wait for her family to turn up.

  Sweating heavily, back and legs sore, Joel looked over at Paddington on the computer swivel chair. A knowing look played across his face. Joel could almost see the dots connecting in his mind.

  “You have a plan, don’t you?” Joel asked.

  Paddington looked offended. “Not a whole one…”