[Orig] Ghost Café: Vampire's Tea (ch.2)
Have fun. Unedited, unbeta-ed.
Act 2: The means justify the end.
“Jeremy, you do realize you cannot take outside cases without consulting me first. I’m your agent!”
Sarah wasn't pleased. That much I could tell just by listening to her.
“He needs my help, Sarah,” I pleaded again. I had been doing that a lot lately. That Kristofer better pay me for what this really worth. “You want me to be nicer, and here I am, being a nice.”
“To a vampire?” she almost shrieked, and this time, I could definitely tell she has some serious issues.
“Any reason why you are against this?”
“You're helping a vampire.”
She said it as if it was the gravest sin in the world. I honestly have no idea why, and I don't think I even want to know. And you know what? I definitely do not have the time to argue about this. I gave my promise, and I intend to keep it, even to a vampire. They're as alive as we are and have as much right as we do.
“If you don't mind, I'd like to take a temporary leave for awhile,” I simply told Sarah.
She frowned at the sight of my packed duffel bag. “You can't be serious.”
Well, too bad I was.
“Jeremy, you can't do this!”
“I’m doing this for personal favours, woman. The vampire bloke asked for my help not as an exorcist, but as his protector. That makes everything personal as far as the Vicerra Corps is concerned.”
What the bloody hell was I saying?
“How much is he paying you?” Sarah snapped. I gaped at her, silently letting her know with my slack jaws she had completely lost me.
“Personal favour, Sarah. Didn’t you hear it the first time?”
“If Mikhail hears a word of this, he'll sack you.”
“Which makes it your job as my agent not to let him know.”
“Jeremy!” Sarah finally cried with so much pent up frustration she might start hyperventilate. “You don't understand! This is a big issue! At least tell me who this vampire is!”
I gazed at her, and I stared long and hard. With utmost seriousness, I calmly told her about Kristofer and his lineage, as well as the Romanov.
I took a deep breath after relating everything to her and readied my mental defences for the impact I was sure would come my way.
And it did hit me with a huge force in the form of a flying mug and the loud slamming for a door.
“Jeremy Reiner! You're a bloody prat!”
That was the last time I saw Sarah for the rest of the month.
--
The train ride to Scotland took two hours of nap and a cup of black coffee. At least my dear vampire friend thought of a private cabin.
When you're an exorcist with social issues, it's best to avoid big crowds, especially if there are children. You wouldn't want to provoke the guardian gnomes tailing them.
With my duffel bag slung over my back, silver bullet-loaded guns holstered against my ribs, I stepped off the train and went for a sickly looking man standing by the lamppost farthest from me.
“Mister Jeremy Reiner?” the old man asked with raspy, shaky voice. You think these vampires are all young and beautiful? Well, better think again. I did say they're pretty much like us.
“That's me.”
“The car is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
The old man-or vampire, that I still have to confirm-led me into the very warm and stifling inside of an old sedan, the air conditioner dead and chair cushion moth-eaten. So much for being a royalty's guest of honour.
The car ride was spent in great silence. The old vampire didn't say a word, and I didn't bother, not when breathing alone became such a chore in this blasted car.
We finally arrived at our destination an hour after. One thing certain was that whatever name the Balteisse coven made the past few millenia, they were all for real. As real as those skulls decorating the gloomy castle's gate. The whole land must have dated back to the Middle Age, with the moat and the drawbridge.
“Funny no one thought of using the carriage.”
“Oh, you don't want to make medieval jokes with the great lord, oh no,” the old man answered my musing, glancing at me from the rearview mirror. “The lord doesn't appreciate humour like the princes. Better not, ol' sire.”
Frowning, I turned and looked at the castle. Dracula would be such a happy kid if he sees this. All gloomy and dark, made completely out of stone, and not a single draft of warm wind. The rain was battering real hard, the wind blowing the trees off their roots. But what really stood out among these images of death was the large garden covering the expanse of the land, tall shrubberies of roses of all colours and sizes making up a maze.
Who lives here again?
“Umbrella, sir?” the old man offered.
We both entered the castle, and Jesus Christ bless my heart, it was crazily darker inside than outside, our only source of light coming from the candlelit chandelier. The warm, amber light from above only made the carpeted floor seem like a frozen sea of blood.
“Mister Reiner,” that familiar feminine voice sounded with an echo.
Kristofer Balteisse stood at the topmost landing of the grand staircase, another landing im the middle dividing the staircase into two that stretched along the wall. He chose the east side, his hand not leaving the wooden banister until finally, it wrapped around a cherubin head as he stepped off the bottommost landing.
“I'm more than grateful for your help,” he said. I just nodded curtly. Then with just one look from the vampire prince, the old man behind me disappeared in one silent poof. “Now, why don't we introduce you to my father?”
I blinked widely at Kristofer's smiling face.
What?
--
The exterior of Ghost Cafe suggested that the store was closed, but Zide knew the thin sliver of light coming from the left most window said otherwise.
It was also expected that the Legendary Exorcist's shop was literally bulletproof.
Throwing away the last of his stolen shotguns, Zide went around the shop, searching for the hidden trapdoor he knew would lead him down the basement.
Said trapdoor was found beneath a large crate of coffee beans from Africa.
Kicking the crate aside, Zide pulled the trapdoor off its hinges, only to frown darkly when it revealed nothing but concrete, a message from the owner engraved onto it.
Wish you the best of luck,
J.R.
Act 2: The means justify the end.
“Jeremy, you do realize you cannot take outside cases without consulting me first. I’m your agent!”
Sarah wasn't pleased. That much I could tell just by listening to her.
“He needs my help, Sarah,” I pleaded again. I had been doing that a lot lately. That Kristofer better pay me for what this really worth. “You want me to be nicer, and here I am, being a nice.”
“To a vampire?” she almost shrieked, and this time, I could definitely tell she has some serious issues.
“Any reason why you are against this?”
“You're helping a vampire.”
She said it as if it was the gravest sin in the world. I honestly have no idea why, and I don't think I even want to know. And you know what? I definitely do not have the time to argue about this. I gave my promise, and I intend to keep it, even to a vampire. They're as alive as we are and have as much right as we do.
“If you don't mind, I'd like to take a temporary leave for awhile,” I simply told Sarah.
She frowned at the sight of my packed duffel bag. “You can't be serious.”
Well, too bad I was.
“Jeremy, you can't do this!”
“I’m doing this for personal favours, woman. The vampire bloke asked for my help not as an exorcist, but as his protector. That makes everything personal as far as the Vicerra Corps is concerned.”
What the bloody hell was I saying?
“How much is he paying you?” Sarah snapped. I gaped at her, silently letting her know with my slack jaws she had completely lost me.
“Personal favour, Sarah. Didn’t you hear it the first time?”
“If Mikhail hears a word of this, he'll sack you.”
“Which makes it your job as my agent not to let him know.”
“Jeremy!” Sarah finally cried with so much pent up frustration she might start hyperventilate. “You don't understand! This is a big issue! At least tell me who this vampire is!”
I gazed at her, and I stared long and hard. With utmost seriousness, I calmly told her about Kristofer and his lineage, as well as the Romanov.
I took a deep breath after relating everything to her and readied my mental defences for the impact I was sure would come my way.
And it did hit me with a huge force in the form of a flying mug and the loud slamming for a door.
“Jeremy Reiner! You're a bloody prat!”
That was the last time I saw Sarah for the rest of the month.
--
The train ride to Scotland took two hours of nap and a cup of black coffee. At least my dear vampire friend thought of a private cabin.
When you're an exorcist with social issues, it's best to avoid big crowds, especially if there are children. You wouldn't want to provoke the guardian gnomes tailing them.
With my duffel bag slung over my back, silver bullet-loaded guns holstered against my ribs, I stepped off the train and went for a sickly looking man standing by the lamppost farthest from me.
“Mister Jeremy Reiner?” the old man asked with raspy, shaky voice. You think these vampires are all young and beautiful? Well, better think again. I did say they're pretty much like us.
“That's me.”
“The car is waiting for you. Please follow me.”
The old man-or vampire, that I still have to confirm-led me into the very warm and stifling inside of an old sedan, the air conditioner dead and chair cushion moth-eaten. So much for being a royalty's guest of honour.
The car ride was spent in great silence. The old vampire didn't say a word, and I didn't bother, not when breathing alone became such a chore in this blasted car.
We finally arrived at our destination an hour after. One thing certain was that whatever name the Balteisse coven made the past few millenia, they were all for real. As real as those skulls decorating the gloomy castle's gate. The whole land must have dated back to the Middle Age, with the moat and the drawbridge.
“Funny no one thought of using the carriage.”
“Oh, you don't want to make medieval jokes with the great lord, oh no,” the old man answered my musing, glancing at me from the rearview mirror. “The lord doesn't appreciate humour like the princes. Better not, ol' sire.”
Frowning, I turned and looked at the castle. Dracula would be such a happy kid if he sees this. All gloomy and dark, made completely out of stone, and not a single draft of warm wind. The rain was battering real hard, the wind blowing the trees off their roots. But what really stood out among these images of death was the large garden covering the expanse of the land, tall shrubberies of roses of all colours and sizes making up a maze.
Who lives here again?
“Umbrella, sir?” the old man offered.
We both entered the castle, and Jesus Christ bless my heart, it was crazily darker inside than outside, our only source of light coming from the candlelit chandelier. The warm, amber light from above only made the carpeted floor seem like a frozen sea of blood.
“Mister Reiner,” that familiar feminine voice sounded with an echo.
Kristofer Balteisse stood at the topmost landing of the grand staircase, another landing im the middle dividing the staircase into two that stretched along the wall. He chose the east side, his hand not leaving the wooden banister until finally, it wrapped around a cherubin head as he stepped off the bottommost landing.
“I'm more than grateful for your help,” he said. I just nodded curtly. Then with just one look from the vampire prince, the old man behind me disappeared in one silent poof. “Now, why don't we introduce you to my father?”
I blinked widely at Kristofer's smiling face.
What?
--
The exterior of Ghost Cafe suggested that the store was closed, but Zide knew the thin sliver of light coming from the left most window said otherwise.
It was also expected that the Legendary Exorcist's shop was literally bulletproof.
Throwing away the last of his stolen shotguns, Zide went around the shop, searching for the hidden trapdoor he knew would lead him down the basement.
Said trapdoor was found beneath a large crate of coffee beans from Africa.
Kicking the crate aside, Zide pulled the trapdoor off its hinges, only to frown darkly when it revealed nothing but concrete, a message from the owner engraved onto it.
Wish you the best of luck,
J.R.