Death Beckons (Mortis Vampire Series, #1) Read online

  Death Beckons

  J.C. Diem

  Copyright 2013 J.C. Diem

  All rights reserved

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be copied, resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient.

  Dedication

  To Carolyn, thank you for editing so many of my books but especially for the effort you put into this one.

  Amber Averay, fellow author and good friend, without your ongoing support I might have given up on the whole publishing gig. Thanks for all your help.

  Last but not least, to the girls from work: Anna, Jackie, Vesna, Mel, Pam and Chelsey. Your humour helped keep me sane...but only just.

  Notes:

  Unfortunately, there are no mausoleums in the Toowong Cemetery. There are, however, ghost tours on offer for the brave.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  ·~·

  Chapter One

  Finally closing up shop after a painfully long thirteen hour shift, I was struck by the absence of human activity when I stepped out into the chilly autumn night. The shoe shop to the left and handbag shop to the right were already closed. In fact, all of the stores seemed to be closed. Up and down the street, security shutters were in place and shop lights were off. It was fairly normal for at least a few shops to be late to close on Fridays, thanks to last minute shoppers. Not only were there no customers, there weren’t even any pedestrians at all on the footpaths. Where were all the people heading to the pubs and nightclubs? It was just past nine pm and I’d never seen the street so quiet before. “Weird,” I said softly.

  An unholy screeching noise accompanied the security shutter as I pulled it down. It sounded a bit like the screams of a small animal being cut open during a ritual slaughter. And wasn’t that a cheery thought to have when I was all by myself in a dimly lit street? I snapped the sturdy padlock into place then transferred my keys to my pocket. My handbag, black faux leather that badly needed replacing, sat snugly against my ribs. I habitually clutched it in a death grip in case of a mugging attempt. I’d fight like a madwoman to maintain possession of the few dollars I had in my purse if I had to.

  Passing a rival clothing store, I threw a sneer at the clumsy clothing display in the window. The store manager wouldn’t know what style was if it danced up and poked her in the eye.

  Just past the store was the opening to the alley I both feared and dreaded. Unluckily for me, it was the only access point to the bathroom. Being the store manager and only staff member of my shop, I had one toilet break per day. That had been nine hours ago and I was busting. It was doubtful I’d last the fifteen minute walk home without having an accident. Cautiously poking my head around the corner, I wished that there was enough light to see all the way to the end. I could faintly make out the white door fifty or so feet away but the rest of the alley might as well have been the throat of a gigantic monster.

  All of the shop owners or managers in the area had a key to the single, rarely cleaned bathroom. Sometimes I had to wait in line for my turn on a Friday night. But not tonight. Tonight the area was eerily deserted.

  I’d been working in this store for over a year now and I’d never liked this alley with its single light at the entrance. It was a popular place for drug addicts to shoot up in, for muggers to drag their victims into and, my personal favourite, for drunks to vomit in. I’d stepped in slimy, slippery alcohol tainted pools of upchuck more than once and never relished the experience.

  Verifying that the alley was empty, I hurried into the shadows. Halfway to my goal, something scuttled toward me in the semi-dark. Please be a cat. The animal paused long enough to stand on its hind legs and squeak up at me angrily. I knew immediately that it wasn’t a cat. RAT! My lips drew back from my teeth and I shrank away, huddling against the brick wall.

  Having cowed me with a single squeak, the disease ridden river rat, continued on with its nocturnal journey. Shaking with fright and casting frequent glances over my shoulder to make sure the disgusting rodent wasn’t following me, I also continued on down the alley. A few months ago, I’d witnessed a short but vicious war between one of the feral cats and a pack of river rats on my way home. I wasn’t sure if I was amazed or horrified when the rats won. Since then I’d suffered nightmares about being overwhelmed by a flood of the furry monsters. I’d somehow stay alive while they ate my flesh right down to the bone. Finally, I’d be nothing but a bloodstained skeleton, held together with stringy bits of sinew, screaming noiselessly because they’d eaten my tongue right out of my head.

  My key-ring rattled from shudders of remembered horror when I fished it out of my pocket. Unlocking the door, I flicked on the harsh fluorescent light and immediately locked the door again once inside. Once white, the walls were now an unhealthy shade of grey. Garish decorations of drawings and wording, made by permanent markers of all colours, covered the walls. The spelling could use some work but some of the messages were almost profound: Life sux so suck life, was one of my personal favourites. Taking a lengthy crap must put some people in an introspective mood. I had no contributions to add to the collection. Deep thought wasn’t something I indulged in very frequently.

  Hanging my handbag on the hook on the back of the door, I searched for any freshly made rat holes in the brick walls. There were none and I relaxed minutely. I’d been checking for rat holes compulsively at home, at work and in this very toilet for weeks. If I ever saw one, I’d be out of there in a flash.

  A cramp hit me, telling me that I was out of time. I shuffled over to the porcelain throne and shoved my jeans down as fast as possible. Bent in the awkward crouch every woman used when dealing with a toilet they didn’t want their flesh to touch, I peed for what felt like half an hour. Relief washed through me as I flushed. I’d heard it was bad for your health to hold in your pee for so long but what choice did I have? I worked alone and it was frowned upon by those higher above me to close the shop even for a few minutes to take a break.

  Washing up at the slightly rust-stained sink, I examined myself in the mirror. My hair, currently dark brown with blonde highlights, fell to a few inches below my shoulders. The puff of wind and my fright at the encounter with the rat had mussed it but a swift finger-combing put it to rights.

  My summer tan was beginning to fade now that it was halfway through autumn and my face was turning pale again. My eyes were grey and unremarkable in a face that could best be described as mildly pretty. As always, I’d dressed in clothes from my shop. The almost sheer red
blouse was billowy on my slight frame. Thankfully, it came with a matching camisole so it added at least some warmth for my walk home. I’d chosen jeans that were classic cut rather than the current skin tight fashion. I just didn’t like how boyish my legs looked in them and liked to at least pretend I had some shape.

  Promoting our own products was a requirement. None of the chain store’s employees were allowed to wear their own clothing. Luckily, I was an Australian size eight and average height at five feet, four inches. I could pick and choose from most of the items I sold. Being slender wasn’t a conscious decision I’d made. Food was more of a luxury than a necessity on what I earned. Given a choice of paying my bills or eating, food always came in second place.

  Running my fingers through my hair a final time, I deemed it to be suitable. It was doubtful I’d run into a tall, dark, handsome stranger who would sweep me off my feet during the short walk ahead. That only happened in fairy stories and let’s face it, I was no princess.

  Relocking the door before I left, I was a few steps away from the toilet when the feeble light suddenly dimmed. Jerking to a stop, I squinted against the darkness. A man loomed near the mouth of the alley. I say ‘loomed’ because he was freakishly tall with shoulders wide enough to almost touch the walls. There was no possibility that I would be able to slip past him. For a couple of seconds I entertained the wild hope that I was invisible back here in the shadows. Then I felt his eyes on me and shuddered in an instinctive reaction to a sudden sense of imminent danger.

  “I wonder if you might help me,” the man said a nanosecond before I voiced the scream that had built up in the back of my throat. His accent was heavy, foreign and I was almost positive that it had an aged tremor. I choked out a strangled gasp instead of screaming at the top of my lungs as I’d been intending. I cleared my throat, pretending I hadn’t almost embarrassed myself horribly with a high pitched, girly shriek.

  As I cautiously drew closer, light reflected from his shiny scalp. The poor guy was totally bald. His face was half hidden in shadow but I could dimly make out a network of wrinkles. My fright must have played tricks with my mind because he wasn’t the giant I’d imagined after all. He was just an elderly, shrunken old man. For reasons I couldn’t possibly guess at, he was wearing a cloak. I eyed the long, black material that fluttered around him from neck to feet and decided my eyes weren’t playing tricks on me this time. Apparently, no one had thought to hand him a copy of the far more casual dress code we Australians went by. Jeans and t-shirts were more our style in autumn. We tended to go for shorts and t-shirts when it was warmer. Few of us wore anything as formal as a long black cloak. Not if we had any self-respect.

  “Are you lost?” I asked, hoping he didn’t have dementia. I could kiss my plans of putting my feet up and turning into a couch potato goodbye if he had lost his marbles. I’d have to call the police and then they’d want to question me about where I’d found the old guy. It could take half the night to sort out where he’d come from and get him back to where he belonged.

  “Lost?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing me in a weirdly sly manner. He drew his cloak around him and grinned. It was the grin that made me begin to suspect that all was not right with the old guy; it wasn’t friendly at all. Ignoring his age for the moment, I took in his general appearance. Beneath the cloak, he wore an ink black suit and stark white shirt. Pristine white cuffs poked out the bottom of his sleeves. On closer examination, I noticed they had lace edges. His skin was almost as white at his shirt. I’d been born with more of a tan than this man possessed. “No, I am not lost.” After a thoughtful pause, he continued. “Yet I am hoping you can be of assistance.”

  Why me? Why did I have to stumble across the confused old man? If my urge to pee hadn’t been so bad, I would have been long gone before he’d hobbled into the alley. “Look, I don’t know what kind of help you’re after, but I’m pretty sure I can’t give it to you.”

  He cocked his head to the other side, reminding me of a cockatoo I’d had as a kid. It would eye me like that, as if I was a strange and tasty bug it wouldn’t mind taking a bite out of. “Ah, but I believe you are exactly the person to help me with my dilemma.” He moved closer, crowding me back toward the far end of the alley. Now he seemed taller again, wider and much, much more menacing than any man his age had the right to be.

  It was the cloak that made him seem sinister despite his age. It was like something out of an old black and white movie, one with monsters in it. In those movies, women who wandered the streets alone always ended up in trouble. Serious trouble. The kind of trouble that usually ended in their painful deaths. That thought persuaded me to call for help after all, for me rather than for him. There was something not right about the old guy and I was getting a serious case of the heebie-jeebies.

  “I’m actually not available to help you right now,” I said to buy some time. “But I know someone who will be happy to sort you out.” Yeah, the cops. They’ll drag your skinny butt back to the old people’s home in no time. I took my attention off him for a second to search for my mobile phone in my handbag. When I looked up, he was standing right in front of me. Somehow, he’d closed the distance between us without making a sound. Suddenly my encounter with the rat didn’t seem quite so scary anymore. My heart gave a lurch then started beating far too fast as fear flooded through me.

  “That will not be necessary, my dear.” He raised his arms and his cloak fell around me with suffocating darkness. I drew in a breath to vent a scream but blacked out instead.

  ·~·

  Chapter Two

  When I woke, it was to utter darkness. Snuggling into my cold concrete mattress, I was comforted by the thought that my chance meeting with the crazy old man had just been a nightmare. Wait a minute, cold concrete mattress? Something was very wrong here.

  Snapping all the way awake, I felt around in the pitch dark. Instead of a mattress, sheets and light blanket, I encountered only hard concrete and dirt. Hysteria instantly reared its ugly head. Just before I could start actually gibbering in terror, light bloomed and chased the dark away. Squinting against the brightness, my heart sank when I saw a familiar black cloak and shiny bald head. Oh, God, the nightmare continues.

  “Ah, good,” the strongly accented voice said quietly, “you are awake.” Faint echoes rebounded around the room: awake, awake, awake. I couldn’t see the walls yet, the light wasn’t strong enough to reach that far, but it felt like we were in a smallish space. One part of my mind was focussed on this, the rest was still caught somewhere between nightmare and reality.

  With the light growing gradually brighter, I could see the old guy far better than I wanted to. I had to correct my assessment of him, he wasn’t just old, he was ancient. His wrinkles had wrinkles. His eyes were black pools that bored through me, deep into my very soul. He was holding a lantern, kerosene by the smell of it. Putting the lantern down, he clasped his cloak around him as if he was cold then squatted on his haunches a few feet away.

  “Where are we?” It might not have been the brightest question in the world but figuring out my location took priority. Getting away from the weirdo was second on my list. At least my clothes were still intact. If he was the world’s oldest pervert, he hadn’t disrobed me yet. Or tied me up. Or dressed me in his dead mother’s nightgown. Stop it before you freak yourself out completely. It was a bit late for that, I’d passed the freaked out stage a while back.

  “We are in a charming mausoleum in a nearby cemetery.” He smiled at the revelation, exposing his teeth. They were a nasty shade of yellow-brown. Either he’d never owned a toothbrush or he’d spent a few decades smoking several packs of strong cigarettes a day. His teeth were longer and sharper than average, especially the incisors. He should shop for his dentures somewhere else. Whoever made those has serious mental problems.

  His words sank in then and my mind went blank for a moment. Then the hysteria made a reappearance. “We’re where?” My voice was almost high enough to become a squea
k. I bet the rats could understand me, flitted crazily through my mind. I could become their rodent queen and I’d never have to worry about them eating me again. “What do you mean we’re in the cemetery?” Come to think of it, how had he gotten me there? The man was decrepit. I’d have a hard time believing he had carried me anywhere without help. Did that mean he had an accomplice lurking somewhere nearby? I sincerely hoped not. One weirdo was enough to deal with in one night.

  “It is ironic, no?” He gestured with one hand, holding the cloak closed with the other. “For you to experience your new birth in a place of death?” He appeared to be amused by his skewed sense of irony. I was not. It’s time to leave this asylum before they book me a permanent room. Something weird was going on here and I didn’t want any part of it. Any further part, that was.

  Scrambling to my feet, I took a quick look around the place where my supposed new birth would take place. The light had brightened enough for me to see to the far edges of the room now. Cramped, damp and chilly, it housed four stone sarcophagi. Two were on each side of me and two more were at the back. Heavy iron crosses were stationed at the tip of each sarcophagus. Names and dates were engraved on the ends of the stone coffins but I was too panicked to try to read them. One of the caskets at the back was cracked down the middle and a two inch fissure gaped darkly. Great, I’m breathing in mummy dust.

  “Who are you?” I’d need a name so I could report him to the cops once I made my escape.

  “My name is Silvius, little one.” He bowed gracefully without taking his eyes off me.

  “And what are you called?”

  “I’m Natalie Pierce.” I winced as soon as I said it, wishing I hadn’t given him my real name. Now he might be able to track me down once I escaped from his clutches.

  “Charmed,” Silvius simpered and flourished his cloak. Whoever he was, he had old fashioned manners.

  “Look, no offence,” I said to him, attempting to control my alarm because if I gave into it I’d stop being able to think at all, “but I’d really like to just go home and take a shower. You’ll have to find someone else to re-birth.” I took a step toward the heavy looking wooden door and Silvius was suddenly standing right in front of me. Obviously I must have hit my head when he jumped me in the alley because people just didn’t move that fast.