The Devil's Beat (The Devil's Mark) Read online

  A short time later, Josh died again. He started foaming at the mouth, went into convulsions, and died. It was hideous to watch. Mike wondered just how many lives Josh had and if this had been his last. When he stopped moving, Mike went over to Josh's body to tie him down. Unfortunately, they had used up the last of the duct tape in their enthusiasm to keep Old Bone from breaking free. Josh and Max searched for something they could use to bind up Josh, but they were also out of twine, and nothing else suggested itself.

  Josh woke up screaming again. This time Mike and Max, nursing a sore face and a pounding headache, just watched as he scrambled for his pills. Mike put an arm around Max and said matter-of-factly, “Max, you have some really disturbing house guests.”

  That struck Max as funny. He gave a few barks of laughter as he watched Josh collapse again.

  Another thought occurred to Max, this time he started laughing in earnest. Mike looked at him smiling, ready to join in on the joke. Max said, “This reminds me of the movie Space Balls. You know when those two guys found the little flashy memory eraser thingy?”

  Mike made the connection and he laughed too. “Yeah, when they picked it up, the one guy looked at it. ‘I wonder what this button does' and his friend said, 'I don't know, I don't think you should touch it.'“

  Max laughed harder. When the guy pressed the button anyway, it flashed and erased their memory of the last 30 seconds at which point the cycle started again: “I wonder what this button does...” They were there all night, caught in that loop till finally the battery on the flashy-thingy died.

  Mike had gotten to the same place in his thinking as Max. “Wonder what he's going to do when he runs out of pills? That kind of stash can't be easy to put together.”

  They laughed even harder. It was the kind of laugh that was made even worse knowing how inappropriate it was. Max went over to Josh's still form and then looked through the smaller supply of pills still around, he bent down, fished around and pulled out a dozen morphine, Percocet and Valium pills that he recognized from his rock star party days. Just to be sure, he took a few he didn't recognize as well.

  When Josh's body drew in a shuddering breath again, Max and Mike fled the room only to be confronted by their other problem. Old Bone was still securely bound, but his deep and labored breathing was an indication of how hard he had been struggling. He glared silent hatred at the two. Despite his discomfort, Max looked at him more closely for the first time. The one-time skeleton looked like a very thin, elderly Caucasian man with a knife blade of a nose and long black hair. He did not look like some demon from the pits of hell or a shambling undead zombie.

  Mike said, “What are we going to do with Chuckles of the Living Dead here?”

  Max shook his head. He really had no idea. He said, “Well, after watching what he did to Josh, I don't think we can afford to set him free.”

  “Maybe we should just cut off his head again?” asked Mike. “He can't do much damage without a body.”

  Max shuddered at the thought, but it was the obvious solution. It would certainly be less traumatic than dousing him with gasoline—maybe.

  At Mike’s comment, Old Bone’s eyes went wide with panic, and he renewed his struggles. Over the audible popping of muscles and tendons the two heard the ominous sound of ripping duct tape.

  “Right then, let me get my Sawzall. We'll just turn this guy into kindling,” said Mike.

  Bones suddenly stopped his straining against his bonds and said in a heavy southern accent, “Please no! I offer you my parole!”

  “Holy crap Mikey, he does talk! I thought I was just imagining it earlier.”

  Mike was less impressed than Max. He didn't even pause as he hopped off to get the Sawzall.

  Max was confused. He said to the bound man, “What do you mean? Do you want to offer some sort of bail bond or something?”

  “Sir, my word is my bond! When I offer you my parole, I shall not foreswear it.”

  Max got the distinct impression that the line of communication here wasn't as straight as it could be. He said as much.

  Before Old Bone worked up a reply, Mike came back in with the Sawzall, waving about its foot-long cord, saying, “Max, we've got a little problem. All our extension cords were used to wrap that bastard up. We are going to have to move him really close to an outlet.”

  While he was saying that, Old Bone was answering Max's question. “Sir, when I give my parole, I give my assurances that I will submit to your authority, and I will not try to escape from it without your leave.” Max was impressed that even though Old Bone was lying helplessly on the floor naked (except where covered in duct tape), he sounded more commanding than pleading.

  “Come on, Max, drag him over here. I don't want to have to use my hand saw.”

  Max raised his hand to Mike. “Hang on a minute. Maybe we can work something out here.”

  Apparently, Mike had been paying some attention to the conversation. He looked aggrieved. “Oh for crying out loud, Max, were you born yesterday? Look how strong that guy is. If we let him loose, he will tear us apart before we can say, oops!”

  Max looked significantly at Old Bone who responded, “I swear on the mutilated corpse of my lost wife that you will have my unconditional parole if you will free me.” He shuddered, paused, and said with great effort, “Please do not hand me over to the tender mercies of yon butcher.”

  Mike laughed. “Me, butcher? That's a good one. C'mon Mike, drag his undead ass over here.”

  Max shook his head. “I don't know, Mike. I think he is serious.”

  “Yeah, until he needs another snack!”

  Max said to Mike, “C'mon, Mike, picture what a horror it would be to be stuck forever as a bodiless head.”

  “Max, picture what it would be like to have your throat torn out by this guy and then tell me which you think would be worse.”

  Max scowled. He looked from the now silent and still man bound at his feet and then back to Mike. “Mike, I just can't do it. And for some reason, I believe him. I'm going to set him free.”

  Mike scowled back at Max. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Then I'm out of here, pal. I'm not going to be another chew toy for Dracula the Ripper there. If your ghost needs me, I'll be the living one in the motel room making love to a six pack of Jack Daniels.”

  Max watched as Mike stomped out of the house and out to the driveway. He looked down at Old Bone who was watching him with some intent interest. He said, “Is your name really Vlad?'

  “When I was first born, I was known as Vlad Sergeyevich Teplov.”

  Max studied him. “What are you?”

  Vlad had no trouble parsing Max's true meaning. “I am a man as you yourself.”

  “Sorry, but men like me don't just re-grow a body from scratch. When our heads are cut off, men die. Are you a Vampire?”

  “For a short time I answered to that title. I am a man, but I have made... pacts.”

  Max had a bad feeling, “Pacts with who?”

  “Enough foolish questions. Either accept my parole or cut off my head, but I will not put my life on display for your amusement.”

  Max looked into Old Bone's... Vlad's eyes, searching for deceit, but all he saw was deadly earnest intent. He dropped his gaze before Vlad did.

  “Fair enough,” said Max finally. He went back to the music room and noticed that Josh's body had moved since the last time Max saw him, but he was lying still. Quickly, Max searched through the toolbox and went back to Vlad with a box cutter. He set in on freeing Vlad from the tape. As the last of the tape was being cut away, Max's nerves were shrieking, and his hand was shaking. Saying you believe that a monster is not going to hurt you is different from actually setting one free. He thought to himself a little maniacally, In for a pinky, in for a pound of flesh. Taking a deep breath, he tried to steady his hand as he made the last cuts. The act was fairly anti-climatic. He cut off the tape and Vlad did not move. He unwound the extension cords enough th
at Vlad could finish the job and stepped back. Vlad sat up and freed himself. He got up slowly, his joints creaking and protesting. He stood there, covered in cut pieces of duct tape, and looked intently at Max.

  Uneasily Max said, “So, uh, now what?”

  “That is up to you,” said gaunt man. When Max seemed hesitant, he added, “I have given you my parole. My life is yours to command as you desire.”

  “Uh, okay, well...” Max thought furiously for a moment. He said, “For now, just don't hurt me or any of my guests. Other than that, you can do what you want.”

  “Since you are my captor, you must provide for my needs. I need to get this tape off me, I need clothes, and I need to feed.”

  Max really didn't want to hear that. He said, “And, um, what do you eat?”

  “Human blood.”

  Max winced, “I was afraid you would say that.” He paused in thought. “Can you drink bagged blood?”

  “I do not know. I have never tried to put blood in a bag. I have never had a shortage of prey.”

  Max gulped. “Oh. Well, it's time to try. Uh how much do you need?”

  “Not much. Normally, feeding on one or two people a week will keep me healthy, if a little hungry. Just a warning, if I am not kept properly fed, I can lose control of my actions. When this happens, I may not be able to abide by my oath.” He looked at Max with the first hints of amusement that Max had ever noticed. “I don't think you would enjoy that very much.”

  Max swallowed. “Uh no. I think you are right.”

  Josh's familiar scream echoed from the music room. Max said, “Maybe you could help me with Josh. His current condition is your fault, after all.”

  “Perhaps it is, but as I said earlier, I may lose control when I am extremely hungry.”

  “Uh right. Are you very hungry now?”

  “I could eat.”

  Max tried to swallow, but his mouth had become too dry. There was nothing for it, he just had to push on. Turning his back on Vlad was hard for Max and he tried not to hunch his shoulders as he headed into the music room. Noiselessly, with a grace any cat would envy, Vlad followed him clothed in pieces of duct tape and an unreadable expression.

  With Vlad's help, Josh was much easier to handle. His presence made Josh's smell the worst thing Max had to deal with. Max didn't know it was possible for someone to smell so foul, but Vlad didn't complain and he easily held Josh down. This allowed Max to feed him some morphine to take the edge off, but not enough to kill him.

  When Vlad released the now docile man, Josh got up, stumbled into the back corner of the room, and pressed himself against it with his arms around his knees. The sight unexpectedly brought back the memory of Vlad in the same pose—before Max had beheaded him and chopped up all his bones and buried them.

  Max tried to shake the vision from his head. He turned to Vlad. “Vlad, I have no extra clothes here, and I'm about to lose it. Can you stay here and take care of Josh? Feed him one or two pills at a time when he wakes up. I want to see if we can get him over the trauma of being chased and killed by a murderous head and shoulders. I've saved enough from his stash to last the night at least.”

  Vlad simply nodded affirmative. Apparently, he was a man of few words. Max found himself thinking that Vlad and his old body guard Paul would get along famously. Max said, “Okay then, I'm going to go outside, call Mike back, and head back to town.” He paused in thought. “Vlad, are you okay on the hunger front for now? Can you wait till I can bring you back some blood?

  Vlad nodded curtly again.

  “Alrighty then, I'll just be going.” Mike waited for Vlad to say something, but when he simply stared at Max, Max forced himself to turn and leave without saying anything more. He made it to the room's exit when he was hit by the gruesome pendulum in the hallway. The corpse of the paparazzi still swayed gently, hanging headless from the Chandelier. Max felt the bile rise in his throat along with a scream. He had been telling Vlad the truth. He was about to lose it if he didn't get out of the house.

  He turned his bloodless face to Vlad. “Can you get that corpse down and put it somewhere it won't be found?”

  Vlad said simply, “Yes.”

  “Ah, good, ah please do.”

  “May I leave the house?”

  “Yes, but don't hurt anyone and come right back when you've disposed of the body. Don't let anyone see you. If you, ah, can drink animal blood, you can hunt for rabbits or something.”

  “Very well. I shall do as you command.”

  Max tried to swallow again. “Ah, right. Thanks.” Max turned and hurried back to the door being extra careful not to get another eye-full of the body dangling in the hall. Once he got outside, the air was still hot, but the sky was deep purple and fading. Max didn't notice. He needed to move, so he just ran. Quite some time later, his body ran out of endurance before his mind ran out of need. He staggered to a stop reluctantly, but he decided he definitely felt better. As he caught his breath, he found himself standing there, all alone, on a dark country road, under a handful of stars twinkling through a hazy sky, in the middle of nowhere, with a million lonely bugs calling for company, and unseen things rustling in the dark all around him. All this in a world that suddenly had vampires in it. He found that he could run some more after all.

  There was a spear of pain in Max's side and his breath was coming in gasps by the time he reached the main highway. He was covered in sweat, dying for a drink, and struggling for a breath in the smothering warmth. He collapsed on the side of the road, and even the ubiquitous mosquitoes couldn't rouse him to action for several minutes.

  When he could finally move, he grabbed his phone to call Mike. There were a half dozen messages waiting for him. Irritated, Mike checked, and sure enough, the phone had somehow slipped into silent mode. He turned the ringer back on and then looked through the list on his screen. The first was from Max's new accounting firm. The automatic transcription from his voice mail provider told him in its mangled translation that his funds were now under their control. In Max's mind, that alone was cause for celebration. The next three messages were from Tony, undoubtedly wanting to know why he had been sacked. Max ignored those, not wanting to spoil his tenuous good mood. The final Message was from Alice. She called to apologize to Max for her treatment of him and asked him to call her. That message cheered him even further.

  The onslaught of the mosquitoes finally forced Max back into movement as he punched Mike's number. The phone rang several times before Mike’s slurred voice picked up on the other end.

  “Is tha' you Max? Are you still alive?”

  “Yes Mike, it's me, I'm alive and kicking, and I need you to come pick me up.”

  Mike's voice lowered in suspicion. “How do I know you're really Max? How do I know that you aren't being controlled by that vampire?”

  “I'm not being controlled by anyone, Mike.”

  “Oh yeah? Prove it!”

  Max's couldn’t help but let his irritation show in his voice. He said, “Mike, how can I possibly prove to you that I'm not being controlled?”

  “Uh...” There was a long silence, and just as Max was about to prompt him he said, “Oh, I know! Tell me something that only you would know!”

  “Mike, how is that going to prove that I'm not being controlled? Being under someone's control wouldn't make me lose my memory.”

  “Hah! If you were really Maxy, you would have just answered me instead of trying to confuse things.”

  Max sighed and pulled out the results of an embarrassing experiment from their youth. He said, “Okay Mike, my penis is precisely one-half inch longer than yours.”

  “Bullshit! I'm hung like a horse now! Just because you were bigger when we were fourteen doesn't mean dick now.”

  “Mike, that's not the point!”

  “I gotta pee.” Beep. Mike hung up.

  Max swore. Mike was blotto, and Max was pretty sure he didn't want Mike driving. He thought for a moment and called Alice.

  “Hi Max.” sai
d Alice as she answered.

  “Hi Alice. I was wondering if you could do me a really big favor? I mean you don't have to if you don't want to. But it would help me—”

  Alice laughed. She said, “Just spill it, Max. What do you need?”

  “Ah, I need a ride.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I'm walking from my house back to town. I'm on the county road right now.”

  “What? Why are you walking?”

  “It's really a long story. Any chance you can come and get me?”

  “Let me think, I'm off work tonight... I guess I can bundle the girls into the car. I can be there in about twenty minutes?”

  “I feel guilty about dragging you and the girls out of bed...”

  “No, it's okay, the girls won't mind. It will be an adventure.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure.”

  “Of course, silly. I'll be there quick as a wink. I'll have my phone.”

  “Thanks Alice! I owe you another one.”

  “No problem, Max, see you soon.”

  Max liked talking to Alice. She was just easy to talk to, when she wasn't mad at him, and her southern lilt was music to his ears. Their shared experience with Lucian had given them a connection that they had lacked before. He put the phone back in his pocket and walked on, trying not to think of the things that might be stalking him in the dark night.

  It was about an hour later when Alice finally dropped Mike off at the motel. He was a little frustrated that Alice had to bring the girls along. With them listening in the back, there was no chance for Max and Alice to talk about the things that he really wanted to discuss. He didn't get much of a chance to talk because Lily kept up a constant stream of chatter the whole way back. Max thanked the whole family and insisted he would make it up to them all by taking them out for ice cream. As Alice and family drove away, Max had an urge to run after them and... he didn't know what. It had just been nice, not being alone for a change.

  Max decided he had some serious catching up to do with Mike and headed to Mike's motel room to see if there were any JD still left.

  Where Did the Love Go?