Victor Gischler - Vampire A Go-Go

It had taken Allen just over three hours to find it.

“This is getting us nowhere,” Penny said. “We can’t just keep wandering aimlessly through Prague.”

They walked along one of the city’s small parks, their footfalls echoing along the cobblestones. The street was deserted.

“I thought he might go back to the Globe,” Amy said. “He can send email there. He hasn’t been in the city long enough to know any other places. And he didn’t go back to his dorm room.”

“He’s not that stupid,” Penny said. “Anyone looking for him will check the dorm. He knows that.”

“I’m out of ideas. If you’d just let me contact my people, they could help search for him. We have resources.”

“Not any more than you’ll let me contact Father Paul. We had a deal. Can’t you cast a spell to find him?”

Amy shook her head. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, you know? Casting a spell isn’t like wiggling my nose on Bewitched . I need materials, a safe and quiet place to cast. Witchcraft is a subtle and complex art.”

“I think Allen was right,” Penny said. “I don’t think you really have any powers at all.”

“Don’t start!”

Penny sighed. “Listen, I think I can do something that will help, but you’ve got to promise not to freak out.”

“Why would I freak out?”

Penny took Amy’s hand, led her behind a row of thick hedges, out of sight of the street or any houses. “Sometimes people freak out.”

“I’m in the Society,” Amy said. “Freaky stuff is my business.”

“Just don’t freak out.”

“Stop saying that!”

Penny began to unbutton her shirt. Amy raised an eyebrow. Penny took off the shirt, gooseflesh rising on her white skin. She reached back to unclasp her bra.

“Okay,” Amy said. “Now you’re freaking me out.”

“Just watch for anyone coming.” Penny took off the bra, her small, pert breasts bouncing into view. She bent, pushed her skirt down, kicked off her shoes.

“Is this a sex thing?” Amy asked. “Because I don’t go that way.”

“Last warning,” Penny said. “Don’t freak out.”

Jackson Fay emerged from the terminal with his carry-on bag slung over his shoulder. He immediately spotted the two girls waiting for him on the other side of customs.

He approached them, smiled. “Hello, Clover. Sam.”

“We got your message,” Clover said. “There’s a taxi waiting outside.”

“Well done,” he said. “I’ll have questions.”

“We’ll fill you in.”

Fay looked around. “Where’s Amy?”

“We had to scatter,” Clover told him. “We think she’s with Cabbot. She checked in to say she was safe but refused to give her whereabouts. She said the situation was awkward. It’s… suspicious.”

“Yes.” Fay scratched his chin, wondered what the girl could be up to, where she might be. He wasn’t in the mood for complications.

“We attempted a tracking spell,” Sam said, “but they must be blocking us somehow.”

Yeah, right .

“I’ll need a hotel,” Fay said. “Let’s go.”

Father Paul stood next to Finnegan. They looked down at Evergreen’s pale, lifeless body, the fleshy pink gash in his throat garish and horrible.

Father Paul sighed, stuck a cigarette in his mouth. “You got a light?”

“I don’t smoke,” Finnegan said.

“Really? Since when?”

“About a week. Ten days maybe. It’ll kill ya.”

“I’ll quit after this job.”

“You said that before.”

“Well, I’m saying it now.”

Finnegan nudged the body with his foot. “What about him?”

“If she doesn’t need Evergreen anymore, then she’s got her hooks into somebody else,” Father Paul said.

“The Cabbot boy?”

“What do you think?”

“Yeah.” Finnegan rubbed the stubble on his jaw. They both needed sleep. “And Penny wouldn’t say?”

“Poor girl’s in love.”

“Damn,” Finnegan said. “Maybe we can still get through this without love fucking it up.”

“From your lips to God’s ears, Father Finnegan.”

Back at the service window, Allen rifled the small desk, looking for what he needed. He wrapped the fragile manuscript in a triple layer of old newspapers and tied up the whole thing with brown twine. When he got someplace safe, he’d open it and take a closer look.

He climbed back through the window, went through the reading room, and let himself into the hallway beyond. He wove his way through back offices and storage rooms until he found the doorway out, an exit labeled in Czech, German, and English.

No alarms sounded. Nobody came after him.

Which way?

He headed up Petrin Hill. He remembered from the map in The Rogue’s Guide that numerous paths crisscrossed the hill. He could lose himself up there in case someone followed, emerge on the other side. Some paths were well lit, others not. The Rogue’s Guide had also mentioned the fact that hookers used the shrubbery as convenient hideaways for quickies. Interesting information but not particularly useful at the moment.

At first Allen stuck to the main path, which was well lit and smoothly paved. He kept heading up. He passed a young couple strolling arm in arm. Harmless, but they could still talk to the police. Have you seen a young man with a stolen alchemist diary? Which way did he go?

He turned onto a gravel path, narrow and dark, but still heading for the top of the hill. From there he could survey his surroundings and decide where to go next.

Next. Yes, that would be tricky. It was not safe to go back to his dorm; it had been foolish to go there the first time, in fact. Too easy for people to find him. And he didn’t relish returning to Penny’s apartment and having to explain why he’d gone off without her. There would be some hurt feelings there, but time to apologize later. Right now he needed a quiet place to examine Kelley’s journal. A well-lit desk and nobody trying to kidnap, seduce, or kill him.

And while seduction was admittedly the least appalling of the options, the sudden thought of Cassandra both terrified and excited Allen, sending conflicting sensations coursing through his body.

No. Don’t think about it .

He trudged up the path, gravel crunching. He panted with the exertion. Allen wasn’t in bad shape, but the hill went up and up. He’d left the well-lit path far behind now, and the darkness closed in on him. He stepped off the path a few times, had to reorient himself by moonlight.

Allen heard something and froze. Had he heard footsteps, or was it just himself he’d heard? His own panting was loud in his ears. Something rustled in the bushes far back down the path. Bird? Rabbit?

Vampire?

He began walking again, took another dozen steps and stopped. Okay, he definitely did hear something. Something too large to be a bird or rabbit rustled the bushes. Allen strained his ears, heard a sniffing sound, or maybe it was heavy breathing. There! A dark shape slunk from the bushes, pausing in the middle of the path. Allen’s heart picked up speed. He didn’t move, held his breath. Maybe it would go away.

It moved, turning toward him. Glowing eyes stabbed him from the darkness.

It came toward him.

“Fuck!”

Allen clutched the manuscript to his chest and ran.

He ran straight up the path at first, but when he heard the rapid footfalls behind him, he realized his pursuer would overtake him quickly. He took a sharp right turn into the woods, where he dodged among the trees and low branches, stumbling over roots. How did he think getting lost in the woods would help? A sort of strange clarity told him he was panicking. Branches slapped at his face, tugged at his clothing.