John Steakley - Vampire$

Felix thought without the electric lights it could have been built two or three hundred years ago.

“Cat doesn’t like this guy,” offered Kirk as they pulled into the wide circular driveway. “Says he’s too good for sinners.”

Father Adam frowned. “I think you’ll find he has a different attitude now.”

Kirk smiled thinly. “Cat told us about that, too. After you pulled rank on him.”

The priest shook his bead. “After he’s had a chance to think about it.” He looked at Kirk. “There is a reason why people become priests, Kirk.”

The deputy shrugged good-naturedly, his hair seeming even more red in the half-light from the bishop’s front door.

“I’ll go in ahead,” said Father Adam as Felix pulled to a stop.

Felix nodded, lit a cigarette, and watched the priest skip through the puddles to the front door.

“Felix?” Kirk whispered from beside him.

Felix looked at him. “Yeah?”

“Do we really have to chop his head off?”

“Looks like.”

Kirk shook his head and stared out the window. He shivered.

“Who’s going to do it?”

Felix frowned. “Crow, I guess. If he’s up to it.”

“What if he isn’t? He didn’t look so good to me.”

Felix shrugged. “Then somebody else, I suppose.”

“You?”

Felix stared at him. “Why me?”

Now Kirk shrugged. “You’re second in command.”

Felix stared at him a second longer, then turned away. Jesus Christ! Is that what they think? Hell! I’m the guy that’s leaving!

Or was, he reminded himself, dimly, before they found me, too.

Shit! All the more reason to go.

So why do you feel so guilty?

I don’t. I don’t. I do not. I… I don’t know what I feel…

And he stubbed his cigarette out too forcibly into the dashboard ashtray.

Lights hit them from behind as the Blazer pulled into the driveway alongside the motorhome. Felix exchanged a look with Kirk, then climbed outside to greet them.

Cat still looked terrible, ashen and pale. But Jack Crow looked… pretty damned good. His broad shoulders were straight and his bearing seemed to have… But no. Those eyes. Too deep. Sunken and dark and unseeing.

“Oh, Felix!” cried Annabelle as she came around the side of the Blazer, eyes pouring tears.

And then she did an odd thing. She threw her arms around him and pressed her head into his chest and sobbed.

Felix stared blankly at her. Then he did what she wanted: he put his arms around her and comforted her.

Not just what she wanted, he thought suddenly.

What she expected.

As he stood there holding the sobbing Annabelle, he saw Davette, tears also in her eyes. They exchanged wan smiles.

Who do these people think I am?

“Mr. Crow!” called out from the front door.

It was the bishop, with Adam and what looked like his entire staff trailing behind him from the house. The cleric came to a breathless stop before Jack.

“Mr. Crow!” the bishop repeated. “We are so grieved at your loss. We…” And then he stumbled, fishing for words. At last, he held his arms out, palms up. “I’m so very sorry, Mr. Crow. I didn’t understand.”

Felix watched Jack eye the cleric suspiciously for a moment. But what can you say, Jack? This guy clearly means it. Look at him.

Jack nodded abruptly, said, “Thank you, bishop. I appreciate it. We…” and he turned and made a gesture to include the others.

The bishop was way ahead of him.

“Father Adam has told me everything. Come inside. Please. Let us help you.”

They did. And the bishop was, Felix decided later, quite wonderful. He was everywhere at once, it seemed, tending to them. And where he wasn’t, his staff was, several young priests or priests-to-be — Felix was never sure which. They got them inside and dry and sitting down and got them something to drink and something to munch on while dinner was being prepared and were not offended when no one had an appetite and it was more the bishop’s manner than anything else. That haughty, aristocratic, God’s-house-is-too-good-for-the-likes-of-you attitude had been replaced by a focus of warmth and keen piercing insight.

Felix had never met the man before. But this guy was a priest.

But it was his help with Carl’s body that meant the most to the Team. He listened quietly and patiently as the macabre necessities of a vampire killer’s funeral were explained to him. He did this without evincing shock or repulsion or anything else they didn’t need right then. After he listened he left briefly to change to his full bishop’s robes and ordered his people to do the same and something that had always before been just one more dreadful chore would become, in the light of the many golden candles and the soothing symbols of the bishop’s office, something else.

As soon as they found Jack.

Felix was in one of the many rest rooms trying to tidy himself up for the ritual to come. He’d managed to dry his hair and smooth out his work shirt some. Well, maybe the windbreaker would cover some of the wrinkles the way it covered the Browning. He had thought about taking it off, this being a funeral and all. But it really was a warrior’s funeral, wasn’t it?

There was a light tap on the door, followed by Davette’s voice.

“Felix?”

He opened the door. She had made herself up, too. Her honey-blond hair was soft and clean and neatly combed and beautiful.

“Hello,” was all he could think to say.

“Hello,” she smiled back, her eyes downcast shyly. “Have you seen Jack?”

“Huh? No.”

“We can’t find him and… Well, they’re ready to start.”

Felix nodded at her and then stepped out of the rest room into the hall. Annabelle and Kirk and some of the bishop’s people were there, looking concerned.

“Where’s Cat?”

“He’s in the chapel already,” whispered Annabelle worriedly.

“What about Adam?”

“They’re all in there, Felix,” Davette said. “It’s just Jack.”

“Okay,” he said, thinking. He started walking down the hallway but paused when he realized they were all following him. He turned and looked back, at their eager hopeful faces and…

And he wanted to scream at them: What do you want from me?

But instead he said, “We’ll meet you in the chapel.”

And then he just stood there waiting until they reluctantly dispersed.

When they were gone he thought a second, decided he knew where Crow would be. He continued down the hallway, walking on some thick paisley-looking rug that felt rich and expensive, with paintings on either side of him hung on the richly paneled walls that were probably more so. The hallway took him to the center of the house, a massive twenty-foot-ceiling, sixty-foot-long place called, for some reason, the Common Room.

Felix hadn’t expected to find Jack there, but it was on his way. He paused for a moment, admiring this room that looked like the lobby of the world’s most exclusive hotel. Nice work, if you can get it.

But he knew where Jack was and it wasn’t in these magnificent rooms. Wasn’t in the house.

Felix went through the formal dining room, through the grand oak-paneled entry hall, and opened the front door.

The night was still cool for summer, but the storm was over and the stars were coming out. Felix stepped through the door and closed it behind him and stood there a moment letting his eyes adjust to the dark. Ten feet away, a figure sat on the edge of the wide front porch, his great back a dim softness in the shadows.

“Jack?” he called softly, almost whispering.

“Here,” was the tired reply.

Felix hesitated, then walked down the broad steps and sat down. The rain-drenched steps began immediately to soak through his pants and he stood right back up again.