Interesting Places (Interesting Times #2)

Interesting

Places

Matthew Storm

Copyright © 2015
Cranberry Lane Press

Follow Matthew on
Twitter: @mjstorm

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This is a work of
fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual
persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is
entirely coincidental. The publisher does not have any control over and does
not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

All rights reserved.

No part of this book
may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form
without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of
copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only
authorized editions.

For Clark Fair
and Terri Zopf-Schoessler

Who are largely
responsible for this

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Many thanks to
Michele, for reading yet another of my painfully bad drafts.

Also thanks to
Helen Jane Long, Keren Ann, Yoko Kanno, Origa, Joe Hisaishi, and Nobuo Uematsu,
for the music.

Chapter 1

Dracula was
pissed
.

In hindsight, Oliver Jones would have
had to admit that his plan to walk into the vampire lord’s castle and politely
ask him to stop terrorizing the neighboring Romanian villages probably hadn’t
been the best idea he’d ever had. Sally Rain had suggested dropping a fuel-air
bomb on him from their airplane as they passed by safely overhead. Tyler
Jacobsen, Oliver’s closest friend on the team, thought a high-powered sniper
rifle fired from a safe distance would be a better plan. That way they could
verify the kill later and make sure the vampire didn’t somehow put himself back
together after they’d shredded him. Oliver wasn’t sure that vampires could
actually reassemble their bodies at will, but to be fair he didn’t really know
all that much about vampires in the first place. His boss, Artemis, had told them
that Dracula was a special case, anyway. She’d claimed that many years ago an
earlier lineup of their team had reported that he’d turned into a bat and
escaped from them in that form, but Oliver thought she might have been joking.
It was very difficult to tell with Artemis.

If the bat story was true, though, it
made Dracula unique among vampires, and Oliver wanted to get a look at him up
close. It wasn’t every day you got to meet Dracula, after all. He had wondered
if it would be bad form if he asked for an autograph.

“We’re really going to just march
right in there?” Sally Rain had asked as they approached the castle’s front
doors. She unsnapped the thigh holsters that held her silver pistols in place.
“Maybe you want me to shoot him a few times first and soften him up a little?”

“I’m sure that won’t be necessary,”
Oliver had said. “Why wouldn’t he be reasonable when he sees there are three of
us and one of him?”

“Because he’s freaking
Dracula
?”

But Oliver had insisted on trying diplomacy
first, figuring if the vampire gave them any trouble, Tyler could wolf out and
put an end to him quickly enough. “Wolf out” was the term Oliver used when
Tyler transformed into a hulking seven-foot-tall werewolf. He hadn’t come up
with a better way to say it, and it wasn’t like he could look it up in the
dictionary. The transformation into wolf form made Tyler virtually invincible,
as far as Oliver was concerned. It made for a good backup strategy.

But their brief meeting with Dracula
had gone poorly, and Tyler had barely begun “wolfing out” when the vampire
picked him up by the throat and threw him fifty feet into one of the castle’s
walls. Tyler had been knocked out cold.

Dracula’s throne room was a simple
affair. There was the ornate throne itself, of course, which appeared to have
been carved out of a particularly dense wood, stained until it was nearly
black, and then crusted with diamonds and rubies. It sat at one end of the
room, perched on a stone dais at the top of half a dozen stairs. A long red
carpet led down the stairs and all the way to the main doors on the other end
of the room where they’d entered.

Other than the wooden throne and the
carpet, the throne room was devoid of any furnishings other than a dozen
chandeliers suspended from the stone ceiling, each holding dozens of lit
candles. The candles provided more than enough light to see by, but Oliver
couldn’t help but wonder whose job it was to climb a ladder every day to
replace the old candles and light new ones. It wasn’t a position he’d have
wanted to be in.

He had plenty of time to ponder this,
given that Dracula had punched him square in the chest just a moment before,
knocking him onto his back several yards away. Oliver wasn’t entirely sure he
was ever going to be able to get up again.

Still lying on his back, he heard the
sound of Sally Rain’s twin pistols firing rapidly, and then clicking as the
magazines emptied. Oliver managed to look up from his spot on the floor.
Dracula appeared entirely unimpressed by the gunfire. Sally’s bullets had torn
the vampire’s white tuxedo shirt and dark vest to shreds, of course; Sally
hadn’t missed a single shot in all the time Oliver had known her. But the
vampire wasn’t bleeding, and if he was in any pain at all, he had a fantastic
poker face.

Frowning, Sally looked at one of her
pistols. “Well, shit.”

Oliver got to his knees, trying to
think of what to do next. Dracula was just over six feet tall and had
superhuman strength, as he’d already demonstrated. His skin was impossibly pale
and Oliver might have described him as entirely colorless, save for his bright red
lips. He had black hair down to his shoulders that had not been even slightly
mussed by their battle, if what had just happened could really be called a
battle. Oliver had a pistol tucked away in an ankle holster, but given that
guns had so far proven entirely ineffective against the vampire, he wasn’t sure
how much good that was going to do. Oliver wasn’t a particularly good shot,
either. He’d been practicing at a firing range since he’d joined the team six
months ago, but he still missed his targets as often as he hit them.

“Good god,” Tyler’s voice came from
behind him. Oliver turned his head. Tyler had regained consciousness and crawled
to a spot next to him. “I can’t believe how much that hurt.”

“You okay?”

“No!” Tyler was bleeding from the
nose and still had impressions in the skin of his neck left behind by Dracula’s
fingers.

“Any ideas?”

“I should be able to change form in a
minute or two,” Tyler said. “I have to catch my breath so I can concentrate.
Can’t you do
your
thing?”

Oliver knew exactly which
thing
Tyler was referring to. Months ago, Oliver had shown an ability, if that was
the right word for it, to manipulate reality. He’d ultimately used the power,
under extraordinary circumstances, to annihilate the Kalatari, a race of
humanoid lizard people who had been bent on murdering him. But the power hadn’t
manifested itself since then. Oliver had tried practicing, concentrating on
changing small things around him, but had never achieved any results. He might
have been tempted to dismiss the whole episode with the lizards as a crazy
dream, except for…

“Hello?” Tyler snapped him out of it.
“You wiped out the Kalatari easy, right? How about one vampire? Blast him!”

“I can’t!” Oliver protested. “I think
the only reason it worked last time is I’d been hit in the head so many times I
probably had a concussion.” That had been a very long, and often painful, day.

Tyler thought that over for a moment,
then hauled back and punched Oliver hard in the face. Oliver went tumbling
backwards.

“Ow!” Oliver protested, his head spinning.
“What was that for?”

Tyler pulled Oliver up into a sitting
position. “Do you have a concussion yet? I can hit you again if you want.”

“No!”

Oliver looked back toward Dracula’s
throne. The vampire had picked up Sally Rain by the throat and was holding her
above his head, leering at her. “You do look delicious,” Dracula said, “but
you’re so
strong
. You’d be wasted as a meal. I have much more…
interesting
plans for you.”

Sally kicked him. Oliver had been on
the wrong end of Sally’s physicality before. She was the toughest person he’d
ever met, but Dracula didn’t even seem to have noticed the impact. He laughed
and threw her backwards, where she landed in a heap. She was back on her feet
an instant later, holstering one of her pistols at her thigh and then reaching
for a spare clip.

Dracula raised one arm and pointed at
her. “Come to me,” he called, his voice suddenly unnaturally resonant. Oliver
felt a shudder, and then a warmth filled him as if he’d just swallowed a large
shot of tequila. He found himself suddenly wanting to go sit at the vampire’s
feet, to touch his cape, just to
be
in that wonderful presence. He shook
his head and the feeling dissipated as quickly as it had come over him. What
the hell had
that
been?

“Did you feel that?” Tyler asked. “I
swear to god, I wanted to go make out with him just now.”

“It’s some kind of mind control,”
Oliver said, pointing at Sally. “Look!”

Sally’s gun and the spare clip had
dropped from her hands. Her whole body was stiff, as if she’d been hit with a
bolt of electricity. Eyes wide, she took an odd, halting step toward Dracula,
her limbs moving like she was a marionette being manipulated by strings.

“Aw, hell,” Tyler said. “He’s got
some kind of sexy power!”

Sally took another step forward. “Go
for her gun,” Oliver said, drawing his own from the holster strapped to his
ankle. “We’ll take him together. If we hit him enough times, maybe we can slow
him down long enough to grab her and get the hell out of here.” It wasn’t the
best plan Oliver had ever had, but it beat every idea he’d come up with up
until now.

At that moment a small, furry blur
shot past him, heading straight at the vampire. “Banzai!” Jeffrey yowled.

“Oh, no,” Oliver breathed. His cat
had arrived.

Jeffrey had been a stray cat that
Oliver had taken to feeding back home in San Francisco. At that time Jeffrey
had been entirely ordinary, as far as cats went. He’d been on the receiving end
of the first manifestation of Oliver’s reality-altering power. Jeffrey had been
gifted, if that were the right word for it, with the power of speech. He was
the reason Oliver could never quite forget the things he was capable of. The
cat never stopped reminding him about it.

Jeffrey bounded up the stairs to
Dracula’s throne, yowling all the way. He launched himself at the vampire’s
chest and latched on with all four feet, hissing ferociously. That was enough
to break whatever mental hold Dracula had over Sally, who slowly shook her head
as if waking out of sleep.

Jeffrey slashed at Dracula’s face
with his claws, leaving a red streak on the vampire’s pale white skin. “Take
that!” he yelled. “And this!” He slashed the vampire again. Dracula roared,
either from pain or annoyance. It was the first time Oliver had seen him react
to anything they’d done to him.

“Hey, Oliver!” the cat called, turning
his head so he could see better. “I got him!”

“Great,” Oliver said.

Jeffrey clawed his way over to
Dracula’s back as the vampire tried to shake him off. “What do I
do
with
him?” he asked, before biting into the back of Dracula’s neck.

Oliver got to his feet. “Hang on?” he
suggested.

But Dracula had had enough of the
cat. He finally got his hands on Jeffrey and hurled him at Oliver. Tyler
stepped forward and managed to catch the cat just before he crashed into
Oliver’s head. “Ow,” said Jeffrey.

Dracula turned back to Sally and
extended his hand once more. She’d managed to reload her pistols and cover most
of the distance to him in the time he’d been distracted, but immediately froze
up again, her guns clattering to the ground. Oliver felt the vampire’s powerful
mind touch his own again. Maybe he should go over and apologize to him? Barging
into the great vampire’s castle had been so rude, after all. Maybe Dracula
would even show him favor and let him live in the castle? Was that too much to
hope for?

“Ugh,” Tyler said. “I wish he’d stop
doing that.”

Sally was only a step away from the
vampire now. He smiled at her. “My dear, you are so beautiful.” He extended his
other hand to stroke her red hair, then cupped the back of her neck and pulled
her closer.

Sally smiled back at him. “Aw,” she
said. “You really think so?”

Dracula blinked in surprise.
“What…what did you say?”

Sally cocked her head at him. All
traces of her being under any kind of control had melted away in an instant.
“Moron,” she said. “Did you
really
think that was going to work on me?”
Then in a blur of motion, one of her hands disappeared into her black leather
jacket and emerged an instant later holding a long wooden stake. Before Dracula
had a chance to react, she slammed it straight into his heart.

“Ssh,” Sally whispered.

The vampire staggered backward, both
hands clutching the stake in his chest. He made a noise like a choking donkey
and collapsed onto his throne. Oliver saw dark red lines appearing on the skin
of the vampire’s face and hands. Tendrils of smoke began to rise from them a
moment later.

“Sally!” Oliver yelled. “Get away
from him!”

“Holy crap!” Jeffrey said. “I didn’t
see
that
coming.” He struggled his way out of Tyler’s arms. “Take that,
fangy! Yeah! That’s what you get!”

Dracula’s body heaved once and then
began to crumble, bits of him turning to ash and falling to the floor. Sally
stood over him, her eyes gleaming. “You should have listened to Oliver,” she
said. She prodded what had once been one of the vampire’s legs with her boot
and the ash gave way, scattering harmlessly on the stone floor. Dracula was no
longer a threat to anything but vacuum cleaners. A minute later all that was
left of him were his ruined tuxedo and black cape.