Bentley Little - The Summoning

Nevertheless, he was surprised that Wadey did not nail him on several points, and he wondered if perhaps another department or team within the Bureau was working on a connected project. Or if a think tank somewhere had already postulated the existence of vampires.

Or if the director was simply writing him off as a loon. Whatever the reason, Watley's low key and reasonable reaction to his unreasonable hypothesis caused him to change his plans. He had intended to ask for backup, but had decided against it then and there. It was a dangerous decision, and an obvious violation of regulations, but he trusted the old Chinese woman. She'd come in on target so far, and there was no reason to believe she would steer them wrong as they approached the stretch.

He didn't want to share the glory with some Johnnycome-lately. This was his baby and his alone.

Fuck Wadey. Fuck Engles. Fuck everyone. When this was over, he would report directly to the Bureau chief. He would be able to write his own ticket. He sat down on the bed, watched a few moments of a comedy showcase on HBO, then switched to NBC, ABC, CBS, and, finally, an independent station. There was an old movie on. A monster movie.

What did they used to call that in the sixties? Serendipity. sue awoke and, for a moment, did not remember where she was. The contours of the the furniture the room were wrong, tings unfamiliar, and the bed was facing in the wrong direction. Then she saw her grandmother next to her, getting up, leaning against the backboard of the bed, and events of the previous evening returned in a rush.

Her grandmother glanced calmly over at her. " dreamed last night of the black church."

Sue nodded, feeling cold, remembering the dark and returning images of her own sleep-bound travels. "I did,

DID "

"It is there that we will find the cup hugirngsi. That is there it lives." the words were spoken with certainty, and Sue sat up, Taking off the blanket wrapped around her. She had ex pacted to feel different, to feel .. . something. She had knoned that when the time came, her Di Lo Ling Gum told kick in, that she would sense things, know things, though this morning felt the same as every other. Even the termittent impressions she had received the night before seemed to have deserted her. If she really did have

Lo Ling Gum, what good was it?

Was her grandmother feeling anything?

"So what do we do now?" Sue asked. "Just walk into church and confront the cup hugrngsi?""

"Yes."

Sue blinked, unprepared for that answer. "We don't have to go through some sort of ritual? We don't have to go there at a certain time?"

"No." Her grandmother smiled. "You have seen too many movies."

Sue got out of bed, picked up her robe from where she had placed it on a chair, and put it on. "if it is living in the church," she said,

"how come it has not killed the pastor? It does not need him anymore.

Why is it keeping him alive?"

"I do not know," her grandmother said, and her voice was troubled. "I do not understand why. That worries me."

Sue sat back down on the bed next to her grandmother. She looked into the old woman's eyes and saw not fear there, not determination, not any of the things she had expected to see. She saw sadness. She saw regret.

"Are we going to die?" she asked.

"I do not know," her grandmother admitted.

This time, Sue knew, she was not lying.

The town was crawling with reporters, state policemen, and gawkers of all shapes and sizes. The massacre had not gone unnoticed, and the miracle of satellite technology had made sure that the news had been transmitted to everyone in Arizona who could conceivably fuck up to day's plans.

The police station was the hub of all this madness, with cameramen lying in wait outside the front door, and a slow but steady trickle of townspeople led in to be inter viewed by Steve, Ted, Ben, and Stu.

Robert stood next to the front counter, scanning the room, a major tension headache thumping just below the skin of his right temple. He had been making the rounds of the room, eavesdropping on the interviews, trying to keep track of everything that was going on, but he had given that up and had now decided to let his men perform their jobs without him looking over their shoulders. He had too many other things to think about right now. He had to think about the cup hugirngsi.

He had to find a way for the seven of them to go over to Wheeler's church, armed with spears and amirror and wearing jade, and kill the vampire in the midst of this media circus. r Jesus, he thought, this was like a damn Saturday Night Live sketch.

He and Rich had been wrong. They weren't in a horror movie. They were in a comedy. A farce.

He massaged his throbbing head. Rossiter was in his office and had been on the phone for the past haft hour, talking to the FBI in Phoenix and Washington, trying to get authorization to shut down the state police investigation. Joe Cash was in the conference room on another phone, talking to his own people, trying to counteract the damage. Rich was leaning against one of the desks talking to Woods, who looked as though he hadn't slept all night. The coroner's face was wan, pale, tired. Rich didn't look much better.

Robert ran a hand through his hair, trying to quell the feelings of doubt that were rising within him. How effective were they going to be if they were all exhausted, exasperated, and not thinking clearly?

Right now, he wouldn't trust any of them to go after a high school wee hie bop per who'd bought beer with a fake ID, let alone confront a vampire who had just killed upward of thirty people. Maybe the vampire would be slow and fat and sated after his feast

Yeah, he thought. Right. An maybe he would just walk in and give himself up, too. ?... Robert looked over at Sue. She was standing beside her grandmother, who was seated in Stu's chair. Out of every ii one in the station, they were the only two who appeared calm and unruffled, and he hoped it was because they had inside information and had concrete assurances the rest of them didn't.i

He checked his watch, his headache flaring at the downward movement of his eyes It was after ten already, nearly ten-thirty. Where was Buford? He'd called the burger stand owner over an hour ago, told him to get his asS. over here immediately. Had Buford chickened out?

As if on cue, Buford walked through the door. He did indeed look scared. His face was pale, his clothes disheveled, and he carried a double-barreled shotgun with him into the station. Several people, obviously still shaken by the events of the night before, took a step back at the sight of him, thinking, no doubt, that he was about to open fire, but he strode quickly past them on his way to the front desk.

Robert motioned him over, then gave the high sign to Rich and Woods.

The four of them walked through the crowded room to Stu's desk, where Sue and her grandmother waited. He looked at the grandmother, and though he knew she couldn't understand English, he spoke to her.

"Okay," he said. "We're all here. Let's go into my office and talk."

"It sounds like there's a whole gang of them," Buford said after he had been briefed on last night's events. "An army."

"That's what some of the survivors are saying."

Sue looked at her grandmother, shook her head. "There is only one."

Steve and Ben were in the room with them, had come in because Robert had asked them to. Maybe only seven of them could go into the church, but he wanted some backup just in case something happened to them.

"I didn't know there really were vampires," Ben said. His voice was shaky. "I thought it was all made up for the movies."

"Now you know," Robert said.

"But why is the vampire afraid of jade?"

"You don't have to know how a television works to turn it on," Sue said. "You don't have to know what a microchip is to use a computer, You don't have to know why the cup hugirngs/is afraid of jade. All you need to know is that it is."