Mrs. Dracula: Vampire Anthology Read online

  There was a delicious undercurrent of tension within the swarm. Titillating whispers of a feud between a boisterous brunette and a silent red head drifted back to me. Emotional upheaval makes good theater. In a fight, I’d bet money on the quiet one and I knew just how to stack the deck in my favor. Persuasion was my specialty. A few well-placed words would stir the pot well and provide me with an evening rife with high drama.

  The girls flitted into the Green Door Tavern and looked for a perch. A flowery garden of competing perfumes wafted around them, cutting a path through the pervasive odors of smoke and spilled drinks. Within thirty seconds, my prime candidate for inflaming the sparks of rivalry was snatched up by a waiting swain. Undeterred by the loss, I calculated who next to nudge. While I considered, two more girls were plucked from the herd, narrowing my odds further. I scowled at the interfering males.

  A buxom blonde fell against me, nearly toppling me over. “Whoopsie!”

  I reared back, her gin-laden breath making my eyes water. She pawed at me, teetering precariously, and I caught her arm, steadying her before she landed on a well-cushioned behind.

  “’Tanks.” Upright but only just, she squinted down at me. “Say, do I know you?”

  Smiling, I shook my head. I peered around her, checking on my butterflies. My head whipped back to the blonde when she dared to run her fingers through my sleek bob. How dare she?

  “Yesh, I do,” she slurred. “You’re that raven-haired pixie.”

  I sighed. Because of my diminutive stature, pixie, fairy or sprite were all too common nicknames. Though others, mainly men, had commented on my ethereal looks—large, chocolate brown eyes, delicate nose and cupid bow mouth—as being the source of the epithets. Either way, people underestimated me, which worked to my benefit. What harm could a fairy do?

  “Sorry, no.” I pulled her hands away from my hair, trying not to crush her fingers, and took a step back.

  “Yesh, I saw you at Sully’s. The pixie went poof!” She raised curled fists and flicked her fingers open wide, her lips rounded into a comical O.

  Ah, Sully’s, the raided speakeasy. I’d used a dash of persuasion on that nice officer with the lovely Irish accent to have him release me, or I’d have experienced my first ride in a paddy wagon. With all the mayhem that night, it was a wonder the woman remembered me.

  “Don’t mind Ruby.”

  Both of us pivoted towards the deep, rich-timbred voice. I forgot about my butterflies. A mountainous man stood behind me. An inch or two under six feet, he was built for intimidation, with bull-like shoulders and a heavily muscled frame. His face bore the ravages of violence, with a broken nose healed off kilter, a flattened cheekbone, and a pale jagged scar that stood out against his olive complexion—I imagined tracing my fingertips over that imperfection. Laugh lines creased the corners of his deep-set eyes, filaments of gold and green threaded through the brown irises. A wide, generous mouth transformed his face from menacing to charming when he smiled. As he did now.

  “Ruby, Charlie’s got your giggle water.” He pointed a meaty finger over my head towards a bean pole of a man half way across the room, frantically waving.

  Ruby’s foggy expression cleared, a toothy grin blossoming across her face. “’Tanks, Nicky.” She stretched up on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, leaving a smudge of red lipstick, before tottering away.

  I scowled at that imprint. Unsure why it bothered me that she’d marked him.

  “Sorry, she’s zozzle. Ruby can go on and on a bit until you want to scream.”

  “Thanks for saving me. You’ve got—” I pursed my lips and tapped my cheek.

  Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped at the lipstick, smearing it more. I rolled my eyes, held out my hand and wiggled my fingers in a ‘give me’ gesture. He raised one thick brow questioningly.

  “May I?”

  He placed the cloth into my outstretched palm. I crooked my finger and he obligingly bent down. Brown hair, straight and fine, fell into his eyes. He pushed the wayward hair back and watched me as I removed Ruby’s lip print. I was used to being the predator. His intense focus made me feel like a field mouse under a hawk’s perusal.

  “You look like an angel to me,” he said.

  Charmer. Excitement rippled through me. I wasn’t in the market for a pet but I wondered if he’d be an obedient dog or a recalcitrant wolf?

  “I’m Camille.” I offered my hand once he’d squashed the stained linen into his hip pocket.

  His hazel eyes sparked, widening slightly, and the corner of his mouth quirked up into a lopsided grin. His large hand eclipsed mine, his handshake firm but gentle. “Nick, Nick Moretti.”

  Nick released his hold and opened his mouth to speak. An older man, bearing a resemblance to my giant, snaked an arm around Nick’s shoulders. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth. His red rimmed eyes, cold and flat, slithered over me. “Nick, who’s the dish?”

  The beguiling smile crashed down into a grim line. Nick’s face transformed into a harsh, threatening mask. “Uncle Frank, this is Camille.”

  “Doll, you made my night.” He leered as if looking through my garments. “Nick, we gotta little problem with a delivery.”

  “Sorry,” Nick said to me. He surprised me by lifting my hand to his lips and pressing a kiss to my knuckles. The hint of a smile hovered over his lips. “Nice meeting you, Camille.”

  Disappointment flickered through me as I watched the two men leave. I would have to settle for a catfight between my butterflies.

  “Hey, pixie, come sit with us.” Ruby popped up like a jack-in-the-box alongside me. She gripped my arm, clinging like a barnacle. “I want you to meet my guy. Come on.” She tugged at me until I followed. If she messed with my hair again, I might have to bite her.

  “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she gushed, pointing to a man I presumed was Charlie.

  He was pretty, I supposed, with blond hair, slate blue eyes, sculpted cheekbones and a winsome dimpled chin. I nodded politely. There was another face I found more intriguing and worthy of further study. A face that reflected the darker side of life.

  The flapper girls long forgotten, rail thin Charlie and voluptuous Ruby provided me and the surrounding tables with hours of entertainment. They alternated between telling side-splitting yarns about themselves—neither had a discreet bone in their body—and adventurous tales about beloved cronies. The ones involving Nick were my favorite.

  Charlie tucked Ruby into his Buick and offered to drive me back to the Palmer House, but I declined, not ready to call it a night.

  “If you’re bored tomorrow…”

  Ruby interrupted Charlie’s invitation. “Come whack some balls with us, pixie!”

  “I just might.” I waved as they departed. My ribs ached from laughing. The duo charmed me, perhaps I would seek them out again. For now, I would indulge my urge to roam the night streets and explore more of the city. One of the evening’s stories had involved the freight tunnels, finding a way into them would be advantageous. Dark, narrow tunnels made excellent cache sites for corpses.

  A persistent wind tousled my bobbed hair and tangled the wide legs of my pajama pants, wrapping them about my ankles. Ribbons of swirling humid air bore the scent of sweet tobacco, male sweat, and hops. I swiped at the blue-black strands whipping into my eyes. A long block ahead, a lean man with rolled up shirt sleeves and an ivy cap, which was perilously close to falling off, wrestled a wooden cask into the back of a delivery truck. The grunts of his partner, obscured by the vehicle, carried through the sultry air. A corpulent man in a too snug suit lounged against the brick wall, puffing on a cigar, and watched their efforts. Curious, I paused to watch as well.

  Once their burden was loaded, the second laborer came around the truck, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket. He lifted his cap to swab at his sweat streaked face and bald pate. The younger made a soft comment that made both men laugh. None noticed my surveillance.

  All heads swiveled at the sound of an approaching vehi
cle. A Model T rolled by, and my gaze skirted over the occupants in the front seat and hooked onto the rear passenger. A giant, focused on his prey like a sighthound on point, steadily aimed a revolver. Nick, the hunter, square jaw clenched, black fedora tipped back. The Ford shot ahead. I looked back up the street, excitement rising like a cresting tidal wave within me.

  Cigar man reached inside his suit. Guns barked out bullets, piercing flesh and bone, fragmenting brick and mortar. The fat man’s body jerked, spun, and collapsed. I ran my tongue over my fangs and breathed deep. Cordite and blood perfumed the air. My fingers fluttered against my throat, my body vibrating. Hunger hazed my mind.

  The Model T rounded the next corner and disappeared. I sprinted to the fallen, skidding to a stop by the lone survivor, the bald man sprawled at my feet. He whimpered, pleading for help. The blood beckoned. Predatory instincts smashed away all rationalization. Gripping the sturdy fabric of his shirt, I easily hauled him over the concrete into the alley. Kneeling on uneven pavement, small stones and grit pressed through the thin fabric of my pants, digging into my ivory skin. I cradled the sobbing man’s head in my lap. How soon before others would arrive?

  The sound of his frantically pounding heart and the aromatic tang of blood ravaged the last of my control. Popping the clasp on my reticule, I withdrew a slender blade and sliced his throat, opening both the carotid and jugular. I latched onto his sweat-grimed flesh and swallowed down adrenaline-laced blood. Glorying in the luscious flavor. His heart pumped rich, thick geysers of intoxication into my eager mouth. The man thrashed within my iron grasp. Rapid blood loss from bullets and my hunger weakened his attempts until finally he stilled. His heart quivered, then beat no more.

  Sated, I retrieved a mirrored lipstick case and lace edged handkerchief from my handbag. I carefully dabbed blood from my face and reapplied my lipstick. The corpse slid from my lap as I stood to brush debris from my clothing. Once the blood dried it shouldn’t show too badly against the navy silk. I’d have to be careful entering the Palmer House though.

  It had been a spectacular night. Chicago was full of delightful surprises.

  The men’s deaths didn’t warrant front page news. The Chicago Daily Journal and Tribune ran back page stories laying the murders at the mob’s doorstep. Apparently, the citizens of Chicago were blasé about bullet riddled bodies. I wavered between disappointment over the paltry details and exhilaration that the bald man’s death wouldn’t catch the eye of Vlad or one of his bedamned pets.

  I replayed the shooting over and over. My mind lingering on Nick and that look of honed intensity as he passed by me. I needed to know more about him. Perhaps my humorous new friends had a story to tell. I set out to find them.

  The bar sat wedged between closed businesses. The two large front windows were grimy and its front door needed a good oiling. A youthful bartender looked up from a comic book when I entered. His eyebrows crawled up his shiny forehead as I passed. I nodded and he haltingly nodded back. Dust and spiders decorated the dingy space. A chipped and dented walnut bar ran the length of the narrow room. Two men hunched over their drinks sat at opposite ends of it, ignoring each other. There were four pool tables and only one occupied. I didn’t understand the appeal.

  Charlie leaned over the tournament green felt table and lined up a shot. The cue ball smacked into a red and white striped ball and a solid yellow. The yellow fell into the side pocket and Charlie cursed. A bespectacled man, elbow propped on a pool cue, snickered.

  “I take it you aren’t solids?”

  Charlie looked up, recognition sparking in his slate blue eyes. He stood and waved me over. “Hey, Camille. Ruby’s not here. Sister’s sick so she’s helping with the kiddos.”

  “Oh.” I pouted prettily while pulling off my cream-colored gloves. “My day has been so dull and I was looking forward to one of Ruby’s stories. She promised to tell me one about the tunnels.”

  The owl eyed man laughed.

  Charlie pulled out a chair for me. I studied it carefully before taking a seat.

  “Can I get you a beer?”

  Unsure whether he was brave or foolish to drink anything from this establishment, I declined.

  “Mike, have at it.” Charlie swept his hand theatrically over the pool table and sat down across from me. “The lady wants a story and she shall have it. Though Ruby’s pa is an engineer for Chicago Tunnel Company and her stories are more interesting than mine.”

  “Oh, I’m sure your tale will be amusing. My sides still ache from last night.”

  We bantered back and forth while I assessed Charlie. I could bludgeon a person with my will but I despised the blubbering. Charlie loved to talk and he offered no resistance to my deft pushes. My curiosity was satisfied between his volley of jokes and whimsical stories. Every pointed question I asked evaporated from his mind between one breath and the next.

  “We go way back. Grew up together and now we work together. I’m a bean counter. Nick’s an enforcer. He doesn’t talk much, but Jimmy—my brother-in-law—now he can tell you some stories. There’s a little dust up right now between Frank’s boys and O’Shea’s. Thought they’d undercut us on price but Frank’s been taking out some of their delivery guys to keep them out of our territory.” He paused to finish off his beer. “Sure you don’t want one?”

  “No, I’m good, thank you. Nick’s an intriguing man. Will he be by tonight?”

  “Nah, he and Jimmy got another job. But he’s meeting us at the Brass Bucket tomorrow night. You should join us. Ruby will be sorry she missed you tonight.”

  Another job, another chance to witness a spectacular performance. Death waited for someone tonight. I wouldn’t pass up an opportunity to see my hunter again and indulge myself.

  “I’ll do that.” I patted his hand. “Thank you for the stories, Charlie.” I leaned forward, encircling his wrist with my fingers and peered into his wide blue eyes, one last little push. “Tell me what Jimmy said about the job tonight.”

  Opaque gray clouds clustered overhead, masking the stars. Sheets of lightning bloomed across the horizon. A street that during the day bustled with traffic lay desolate now save for one milk truck parked in front of a darkened restaurant. I followed the sounds of low murmuring to my quarry, eager to orchestrate my own theater.

  Smoking cigarettes and joking, the men startled at my approach.

  “Hey lady, you lost?” A short, wiry, red headed man stepped forward to block my progress while a younger, dark haired man kicked shut a side door.

  “No.”

  Pointing at me with the glowing stub of a cigarette held fast between his fingers, he stalked forward like a banty rooster. “You can’t be back here.”

  I struck, yanking down his head, piercing his scrawny neck with my fangs. Lapping at the decadent fluid gushing from dainty punctures.

  “Hey!” The second man ran at us.

  “Kneel,” I whispered and the man in my grasp collapsed obediently. “Stay.”

  I thrust the heel of my hand into the oncoming youth’s solar plexus, his eyes bulged. Gagging for air, he doubled over. My fangs sank into giving flesh and I reveled in the slide of hot liquid down my throat. I drew down overflowing mouthfuls of the salt and spice elixir as fast as I could swallow. A warbling keen vibrated from my dinner’s lips. My own curled up in delight at the man’s terror. It wouldn’t do to drain him completely. I shuddered, forcing my jaw to relax its hold. My muscles twitched in protest, threatening to spring shut like a primed trap. I pushed him away.

  A distant peal of rumbling thunder cascaded through the stifling air. The stench of urine and acrid sweat marred the sweet tang of blood. Unbidden, a vicious laugh erupted from my throat. Both men cringed.

  “Stay,” I commanded, and though he swayed precariously, the young man obeyed.

  Turning to the red head, I saw tears trailing down his cheeks. “Shh, none of that now.” I petted his face, his leaf green eyes leaking more tears. Tipping his chin, I bit down savagely, and recommenced feeding
. It was easier to restrain myself now with the glut of blood swelling my belly.

  Replete, I thumbed away his tears. “Rise.” Trembling, he stood, his fists opening and closing reflexively. I tsked at the blood staining their collars and shirts. At least I hadn’t messed up my outfit this time.

  “You’ve finished your task, wait by the truck.”

  The red head convulsed, falling to his knees. I clamped his face between my hands, wrenching his neck back. His eyes were riveted to mine. “Mind me now,” I growled.

  They shambled and staggered their way to the dairy truck, taking far longer than I’d calculated. Perhaps I’d drunk too much. Limply, my puppets waited. Minutes ticked past. I began to curse Charlie, then myself. How much longer could they remain upright? Nervously, I chewed my thumbnail. Where was Nick?

  Over their piteous mewls I heard the approaching motor. If I’d been mortal, my heart would have been kicking against my ribs in anticipation. I longed to move closer but held fast to my front row seat in the shadowed alcove.

  A brief symphony of shots shattered the predawn calm as bullets sliced through my prey’s bodies. A bullet hit the younger man in the shoulder and he pirouetted. A second bullet cracked against his spine, arching him forward. Rapturously, I watched their kinetic death dance. The performance would have been enhanced by seeing Nick’s face. But I was too engrossed in the macabre scene and missed the opportunity to observe my giant. That was a shame.

  The morning and afternoon newspapers lay unread on my side table. I peered into the mirror, adjusting the peacock feathered headband so my bangs lay smooth. Satisfied, I moved back so that I could see my entire ensemble. I twirled, watching the black fringe spin out from the blue and green jewel-toned dress. After donning my favorite pair of black kid skin gloves, I double checked the contents of the jewel-toned clutch, and deemed myself ready for an adventurous evening.