Chapter 5

Pungent evergreen shrubs outside the apartment windows scratched Vorigan’s face. Why couldn’t they have planted a nice, soft yew bush? But he needed the cover since the subject of his fascination could see and smell as acutely as he did. So, he’d have to endure spruce needles up his nose.

Sly Flores sat in a rocking chair inside the apartment, reading in the dark. He had opened the window blinds fully, perhaps to take advantage of the streetlamps. Vampires needed very little light to see well, but complete darkness would make reading impossible for anyone.

Vorigan wondered how the vampire he’d turned twenty-six years ago had managed to elude him for so long. He’d caught whiffs of his scent from time to time and tracked him like a wolf would track a rabbit. But his efforts always led to dead ends.

Long ago, he’d spotted the handsome Latino walking with a pregnant woman along a quiet street in New Bedford, Massachusetts. He shadowed them until he was able to stop them in a secluded spot and ask for directions. As soon as he had their attention, he used his powers of mesmerism and led them to an even more secluded place in a warehouse.

His mesmerism held until he fed on the woman, and she lost consciousness. For some reason, the handsome, virile male snapped out of it and began begging for his wife and baby’s lives. The sheer strength of will that took made Vorigan realize this man was someone special. Perhaps someone who could become his equal lover sometime.

So, he promised to help by turning him. He explained that he’d have powers of speed and strength beyond his comprehension—enough to get his wife and unborn baby to the hospital in seconds to save them. No matter how the man begged him to take her there himself, he refused. Why should he care about them? The only human he was interested in at the moment was this fascinating, drop-dead gorgeous man.

At last, the male allowed Vorigan to turn him in exchange for safe passage to the nearest hospital. And Vorigan kept his word. He stayed out of his way as he went through the change from life—to death—to undead. He explained that the change would be swift if he didn’t fight it.

Despite the pain, the brave husband went through it faster than Vorigan had thought he would or could. He lifted his pregnant wife and ran so fast, Vorigan wasn’t sure he could keep up with him. But he did. Right up until the woman was taken from the emergency room up to the delivery/operating room.

He planned to wait in the hospital lobby until morning if he had to. Vorigan had told the fledgling vampire that he would fall asleep wherever he was when the sunrise began and warned him to get to the lobby before that. He’d protect him and teach him what he needed to know about his new life. And Vorigan’s loneliness would be at an end.

Only something went wrong. He waited until the very last minute, and no vampire appeared. He barely got himself to ground in time. Then as soon as the sun went down, he took up his post again. No matter how vigilantly he watched the hospital over the next week, the new vampire never appeared. He hadn’t even learned his name! Somehow his prodigy gave him the slip.

Now here he was—finally. He’d have to pay for leaving him like that. Oh yes. He’d punish him, but only until he understood how much better his life would be if he kept Vorigan happy.

Things would be better than ever before. He’d introduce him to the delights of the dark world. First, he’d help him discover his latent bisexual tendencies and hone them. It would be no use pretending he didn’t have them. All vampires did. At least, all the vampires he’d ever known.

Vorigan stepped out of the bushes carefully and returned to the sidewalk. Now he had to find a way in. He surveyed the building and found the right side of the building on the second floor was lit. So, someone was home there. Both sides of the building’s third floor were lit. Best bet would be an apartment on that floor, so he strolled up the steps to study the buzzers.

P was labeled only with initials—M.J.F. It must have referred to the penthouse and chances are the resident wanted privacy. An empty name slot on the second floor indicated a vacant apartment. 2B said J. Vernon, so Vorigan deduced the right side of the second floor was 2B, and J. Vernon was home. If like most buildings, there was some sort of order as far as the labeling of apartments, perhaps beneath 2B was 1B?

1A said N. Nourie, but the left side was dark. Perhaps he was out. And even though there was no name next to 1B, the vampire’s presence and furniture made it clear the B side of the building was occupied. Perhaps he hadn’t been able to put his name on the mailbox yet. Damn. He still didn’t know his name.

3A was labeled G. Wyneth and 3B said M. Morgaine. Odd names. However, I’m not interested in seeing them anyway.

He pushed the buzzer on the right, 3B. A female voice answered a millisecond later, as if waiting next to the intercom. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Er, uh, no. I was just wondering if—” A quick pop and silence let him know he’d been cut off.

“Damn.” He should have had a simple speech rehearsed. But the query about an appointment threw him. All right. Time to try again.

He buzzed 3A and waited. Eventually, a lovely female voice drawled, “Who is it?”

“My name is Mr. Vorigan Malvant. I’m here to see Mr. Vernon, but his bell doesn’t seem to be working. Could you buzz me in?”

“Not by the hair of my chinny, chin chin…”

“Excuse me?”

She giggled.

“His lights are on, and I know he’s expecting me. If you would be so kind as to buzz me in, I could knock on his door.”

“Well, we’re not supposed to do that, but if the Super’s doorbell isn’t working, he’ll never know you’re here. You probably came to see the apartment for rent, right?”

“Yes, exactly. I—uh, I have an appointment.”

“All right, sugar. Just mosey on up to the second floor, it’s the door on your right.”

That sounded enough like an invitation to satisfy the “rules.” Once again, he wondered why vampires had to be invited in when a human burglar did not. Clearly the powers-that-be were prejudiced against the dark ones.

The outer door buzzed, indicating it was unlocked, and Vorigan snatched it open before the young woman could change her mind.

Once inside the hallway, he paused long enough to listen for doors to open. Hopefully the young woman hadn’t decided to alert anyone to the presence of a stranger in their building. The halls remained quiet.

Fortunately, it was easy to locate the apartment he wanted. He knocked on the door marked 1B in brass letters, just to the right of the front door.

He waited—and waited.

No fuckin’ way. The guy’s a squatter?It was the only explanation. If he had no electricity and no name on the buzzer…

He knocked louder. “I know you’re in there.”

At last, the door flew open. The guy started to say something that sounded like “sorry,” but froze when he saw Vorigan. He was as handsome as he remembered. But then, he would be. Vampires didn’t age, so wrinkling skin and gray hair never entered the equation. He should be grateful, right?

As his protégé’s handsome, almond eyes rounded, Vorigan spoke quickly. “Hello, old friend, you may not remember me, but—”

“Oh, I know who you are all right.” The soft brown eyes turned black and cold.

“You remember me? I’m flattered.”

“Don’t be,” the guy said, and slammed the door.

“Oh, now come on. Don’t be like that. I’m here to help you.”

The door didn’t reopen. He knocked again, realizing his effort would probably be met with the same refusal, but he had to try.

Just then, he caught a lucky break. Someone was unlocking the outer door and wheeling in a bicycle. Vorigan grabbed the door and opened it wide to help the young man in.

“Thanks,” was all he said. He wheeled his bike to the apartment across the hall. It must be the N. Nourie whose name was on the buzzer.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if I have the right apartment. I’m looking for a friend of mine who lives across the hall.”

“Who, Sly?”

At last—a name. A weird name, but it was more than he had. “Yes. It looks like he’s home, but he’s not answering the door. Do you know him well?”

The stranger shrugged. “I know him well enough to know he can hear you. So, if he’s not answering, he probably doesn’t want to be disturbed. Now, if you’ll excuse me…”

Vorigan grabbed the young man’s arm. He tried to make eye contact, but the blasé Mr. Nourie simply looked at his arm and said, “Take your hand off me.”

Vorigan squeezed the arm, hoping he’d look up. He didn’t.

“I said, get your friggin’ hand off me or I’ll be forced to attack.”

Vorigan laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

The young man heaved a bored sigh. “You asked for it.”

Before Vorigan realized what was happening, the arm shrunk as did the man. A black bird easily slipped his grasp and flew out of the limp shirt he was left holding. His eye received a hard poke.

“Ow! A fuckin’ shapeshifter?” He swatted at the brazen bird but missed. When he opened the uninjured eye, he saw the damn thing flying up the stairwell.

He could easily follow. A giant leap and he’d make it to the first landing. But would it be worth it? He hadn’t wanted to alert the other residents to his presence. If he left now, he could return without being recognized by the majority of them. Perhaps he could even try to rent that vacant apartment. It was a sensible plan.

So, holding the offended eye, which was already healing, he threw open the heavy oak door and trotted down the steps into the night.

Sly waited for his maker to leave. As soon as he saw him disappear down the block, he tore upstairs to Morgaine’s apartment and knocked, frantically.

She opened the door with a concerned look on her face. “Sly, what’s wrong?”

“May I come in?”

“Of course,” Morgaine stepped aside and closed the door behind him. “I’ve never seen you like this? What happened?”

“My maker just showed up at my door. My apartment door, which means someone invited him inside.”

“I wasn’t me…Someone buzzed, but he didn’t have an appointment and I sensed he was up to no good, so I cut him off. Dear Lord and Lady! What did he want?”

“I didn’t listen long enough to find out. No matter what he wants, I want nothing to do with him. He’s a liar and a killer. He manipulated me and my wife all those years ago. He’s responsible for her death, and for Merry almost not making it into the world.” He began to pace.

“Oh, Sly. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?”

He halted and faced her. “Is there any way to uninvite a vampire once he’s been let in?”

Morgaine bit her lower lip and looked at the floor. Eventually, she shook her head. “I don’t know of anything that would work for sure, but I might know someone who can help. First we have to figure out who let him in.”

“I guess the logical place to begin looking is with the residents. Probably someone who’s here now. So, process of elimination…”

“I saw Merry and Jason go out earlier.”

“Nathan just came in as he was leaving. If I’m not mistaken, he drove him out. I overheard a brief conversation—about me, heard a scuffle and then the asshole yelped in pain. A moment later he shouted, ‘Damn shapeshifter,’ and ran down the front steps.”

“Good for Nathan. You’re right. It sounds like he’s in the clear. That leaves Jules and Gwyneth.”

Sly raked his fingers through his hair. “I doubt the Super let a random visitor in since he’s so concerned about excess foot traffic…”

“That leaves…”

At the same time they glanced out Morgaine’s door and said, “Gwyneth.”

Morgaine left her apartment, marched across the hall, and banged on Gwyneth’s door. A moment later, Gwyneth opened it and said, “What’s got you upset now? Did they cancel American Idol?”

Morgaine jammed her fists on her hips. “Did you buzz someone in tonight? Someone you didn’t know?”

Gwyneth paused before she answered. “You mean the guy who came to see Jules about the vacant apartment?”

“Oh no! Gwyneth, that was no potential renter. You let in Sly’s maker, and he’s still after him. Sly wants nothing to do with him.”

Gwyneth gasped and put both hands over her mouth. “Well, snap my Granny’s garters! I let in a vampire?”

“Yes, and now we have to find a way to reseal the building and keep him out. Or, more specifically, you do.”

“Look, I had no idea he was a vampire…anyone could have done—”

“I’m not blaming you, cousin. It’s just more apt to work if the one who invited him in reseals the door.”

“Oh, all right. I’ll do whatever I need to. Just tell me what that is.”

Morgaine let out a deep breath. “I was hoping you’d say that. I think you’re going to have to make a trip to Salem.”

“Salem? Nuts. That’s an hour bus ride, and…” She looked at Sly’s face and didn’t finish her sentence. “Of course I’ll go. What do we need that we don’t have here?”

“We need the Cabot witches.”

Gwyneth had called the shop Laurie Cabot, the powerful Salem witch, used to own and was granted a personal consultation with the new owner. Thank the Goddess Sly’s confrontation with his maker happened several days after Samhain and this new woman had time to see her. She’d head to the bus station early the next day, but meanwhile she and Morgaine had to do a locator spell to find Sly’s maker—and later they’d devise a way to get rid of the slippery bastard—for good.

“It will have to be during the day, so we’ll have the advantage,” Morgaine said.

“I can do the astral projection thing you taught me to get inside and figure out what his lair is like afore we go bustin’ in.”

“That’s a good idea. But first we have to find it. Hopefully he’s there now and I’ll astral project tomorrow when he won’t see me.”

“It’s a good thing you can travel by astral projection. Otherwise you’d never see nothin’ but the apartments and hallways of this here buildin’ due to that agra…angora…well, hell. That thing what makes you afraid of going outside.”

Morgaine didn’t want to respond to that. “I’ll grab my map and compass.”

“I have mine right here…”

“No, I’ll need to cleanse the tools after we expose them to evil energy. It’s better if we use mine.”

“How do y’all know he’s evil?”

“Well, he sounds like a psychopath at the very least—the way he didn’t care if Sly’s wife and baby died. That’s evil enough for me.”

“Yeah. Now that you mention it…”

Gwyneth waited for Morgaine to gather the items for the locator spell, then followed her down to Sly’s apartment.

“Sly said he knocked on his door,” Morgaine thought out loud. “So right outside his apartment we should find the largest concentration of the evil vampire’s energy.”

“Better warn him that we’re out here. Y’all don’t want to spook him. For all we know, he’s got a loaded shotgun full of silver buckshot on the other side of that door.”

Morgaine chuckled. “I doubt it.”

“I would.”

“Okay, okay. You’re probably right that we should tell him what we’re up to—just to be considerate.” She knocked on Sly’s door.

When he didn’t open it right away, Gwyneth called out, “It’s just little ol’ us, Sly. No big baddies out here.”

He opened the door and glanced around them up and down the hall. “Sorry girls. I knew you were out here. I just had to be sure he hadn’t compelled you.”

“We understand,” Morgaine said. “We’d like to do a locator spell to know where your maker’s lair is. We need to do it here in the hallway in front of your door—while his energy is fresh.”

Sly frowned. “I hate calling him my maker. I hate calling him my anything, but we don’t even know his name.”

“We could call him A-hole,” Morgaine said and winked.

That made Sly laugh.

“And pretty soon,” Gwyneth added, “A-hole won’t be able to get into the building, don’t you fret. Sorry, but I don’t like to swear—except when doin’ phone sex. Tomorrow I’m headed off to Witch City, Salem, Mass. I’ll find out what to do there.”

Sly sighed. “Thanks. I appreciate any help you can give me.”

Morgaine turned to Gwyneth and said, “We may be able to do more.”

Sounding hopeful, Sly asked, “Like what?”

“I’ll tell you what we discussed after this.”

“Okay. Mind if I watch my two favorite witches in action? Or is that against some kind of Wiccan rules?”

Gwyneth smiled. “It ain’t agin’ no rules I know of.”

“It’s fine if you watch, but…” Morgaine spread out the Boston street map. “Stay inside your apartment. I don’t want to confuse your energy with his. Especially since I may have to call him “the vampire” and the divine ones can be very literal.”

“Sure. Of course.” Sly took a step back, but left his door open and stood there, riveted to the scene.

The women sat cross-legged on the cold floor on either side of the map. Morgaine placed the compass on their present location. As expected, it pointed due North.”

They closed their eyes and held hands. Then took three deep breaths.

Together, they chanted, “God and Goddess, hear our plea. This intention bound shall be, to cause no harm nor turn on me. As by your will, so mote it be.”

Then Morgaine spoke alone. “Please use these tools to help us locate the source of evil energy that stood here tonight. We come here with pure hearts and a singular purpose. To protect ourselves, our neighbors, and especially our friend, Sylvestro Flores.”

They let their eyes drift open and watched as the arrow on the tiny compass twitched at first. Finally, it moved slowly, but with purpose, in a singular direction. When it stopped, it was pointing southeast.

Sly let out a whistle. “I wouldn’t have believed it, if I hadn’t seen it myself.”

Morgaine held up one hand to let him know they weren’t finished. She slowly moved the compass toward the southeast. She stopped street by street until the arrow began to move again. She slowed her forward progress until it spun.

“Gotcha!” Gwyneth clapped her hands.

Morgaine looked closer. “It’s between Clarendon and Dartmouth Streets. I’d say it’s close to the corner of Commonwealth and Clarendon. What’s over there?”

Sly cocked his head. “A residential neighborhood, like this one. It’s only a few blocks away. Haven’t you explored your own neighborhood in the city?”

“Uh, I—uh, don’t get out much,” Morgaine said, her cheeks heating. As she rose from the floor, she realized he didn’t know about her agoraphobia. “Thanks for your help, Gwyneth.” She reached down and helped her cousin up. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Gwyneth waved away the compliment. “T’weren’t nuthin’.”

“It’s nice to see you two getting along again,” Sly said. “I heard you arguing the other night. I know you turned up the radio so I couldn’t hear what it was about. It was none of my business, after all.”

Gwyneth folded her arms. “I wish everyone would mind their own beeswax.”

Morgaine squinted at her. “Don’t start.”

Sly cleared his throat. “Um, would you mind coming in? I think I need to tell you something.”