The Caretaker of Showman's Hill (Vampire Romance) (3 page)

Chapter 3

Cassie left work and headed straight for the cemetery. She wanted to get there before dark so she'd have a chance to snoop around a little before the vampire or whatever it was showed up. She had her tape recorder with her this time, so even if her camera didn't work she'd have proof of her story.

She knew the man wasn't really a vampire, because vampires were myths. Still, it puzzled her as to why the men’s images didn’t show up in the photographs. Something about the whole thing was just too weird.

She turned down the gravel road that led to the cemetery. It was deserted as usual, nothing but overgrown cornfields all around her. She swerved to avoid a pothole, but reacted a little too late. Air whooshed from her tire as she pulled over to the side of the road.

"I can’t even believe this." She shut off the motor and jumped out. Sure enough the tire was blown. It was nothing her fix-a-flat could handle. "How much bad luck could one person have?" She banged her fist on the roof of the car. She didn't even have a spare. Actually, she was already driving on the spare, as her other flat tire was in the trunk, blown on her trip out here. She'd been trying to get enough money ahead to have it fixed. What were the odds she'd blow a tire twice in one month?

She looked around, but the main road was too far back to try to flag down a car. Off in the distance, what looked like an old barn or big house caught her attention. It was not far from the cemetery.

"Maybe there's someone there who can help me." She hooked her tape recorder onto the belt of her jeans, threw her camera around her neck and headed off through the cornfields to find help.

Basil made his way from the cemetery up to The Bat House - the tavern he'd run for damn well near the last two centuries. He'd planned on sticking around the gravesites and waiting for that reporter named Cassie to come back but his hunger won out. Still, he knew he'd have time to get his meal and make it back before Antonio and the rest of the gang woke up. It was only dusk and they weren't able to show their faces anywhere until the blanket of darkness covered the sky.

He swore he was getting more human every day. Fifty years ago he didn't dare venture out before the sun had set. Now he was able to come outdoors when the sun's rays were very weak, just as the sun set on the horizon. Three coats of sunscreen 30, long sleeves, long pants and dark glasses did the trick. His skin only tingled slightly, and the weak rays no longer bothered his hair. He prided himself on the fact he no longer needed to wear a hat.

His stomach growled as he threw open the back door of the Bat House and strolled into the kitchen. The smell of fresh borscht tickled his nostrils as he made his way to the stove.

Helga, his cook, stood over the pot slowly stirring the brew. Basil loved teasing the old, plump woman and came up behind her, slapping her on the rear end.

Helga shrieked, jumped, and held her hands over her heart. "Oh, Caretaker, 'tis only ye."

"Who'd you think it was, Helga? The milkman come to seduce you?" He threw his sunglasses down on the counter.

"Master Basil, must I remind ye, there's been no milkmen now for decades?"

"Sorry, Helga, I keep forgetting. Pour me a cup of borscht, will you, sweetie?"

Helga turned back toward the pot and ladled a spoonful into a glass bowl. "'Tis proper of a laddie tae eat from a bowl and with a spoon. If ye plan on goin' out in public someday ye'd better work on yer manners."

"I've no intention of keeping up with the times, nor going anywhere in public. Ever."

He pushed open the swinging door that led to the bar area and scanned the surroundings. The usual men were sitting at the bar, awaiting the entertainment of the three girls that worked the place.

"Where are the girls, Helga? Already upstairs so early?"

"I don't know, Caretaker. I couldn't get a word out of La Roux. She's the only one out there working the floor. Her and Andre who's tendin' bar that is."

Basil wasn’t happy. Things were not in order. Plus, La Roux was looking very pale lately. "Has La Roux eaten anything today?"

"Not that I know of," answered Helga.

Basil swore under his breath. "Get her in here Helga before I have to go out there and drag her off the floor myself."

"Aye, Caretaker." Helga handed him the borscht, wiped her hands on her apron, and waddled out onto the floor. The door swung shut behind her.

Basil fumbled with the spoon, trying aimlessly to balance the hot liquid atop it and bring it to his mouth in one motion. Too many years away from the ways of man could make one rusty. It also made him realize, he didn’t really care. He threw the spoon on the counter and brought the bowl to his lips. He'd just taken a sip when he heard cat calls from the other room. The men were raising a ruckus and it most certainly wasn't over Helga.

His nose picked up the new scent right through the kitchen door. It wasn't the scent of roses or perfume. It was the scent of new virgin blood. It was something he hadn't smelled in a very long time.

He balanced the bowl in one hand and leaned his shoulder against the swinging door to open it a crack. It was her. That snoopy reporter. She had the camera around her neck and tape recorder swinging from the waist of her tight blue jeans. Basil watched her breasts bob up and down as she made her way to the bar area. Her nipples showed right through her white tank top. He felt a strange excitement at the fact she wasn't wearing a bra.

He closed the door and brought the bowl to his mouth for another sip but stopped in the process. Suddenly beet soup didn't seem to fulfill his needs. Cassie's body was tempting him in a way no one had done in a long time. He felt the bulge in his pants and realized he was more human than he'd thought. Vampires weren't supposed to feel this way about women. Vampires' urges were a bit different indeed. Her body wasn't supposed to excite him, her blood was.

Just the thought of her sweet, fresh blood brought him back to his other needs as well. He licked his lips and ran his tongue over his teeth. Sure enough, his fangs were starting to emerge.

"Damn that woman!"

Suddenly the door swung open, knocking into him and spilling the soup down the front of his white chambray shirt.

"What the hell," he swore. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Cassie, wide eyed and open mouthed. Her eyes were focused on his chest and the blood red stains. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and realized there was soup all over his face.

He turned away quickly and grabbed a towel from the sink, wiping off his mouth and shirt, keeping his back to her all the time.

"Master, this is Cassie Briggs," came Helga's voice from the door.

"You call him Master?" asked Cassie with a grin.

Basil noticed the humor in her tone of voice. He felt his fangs retract and he turned around to face them.

"You'll have to forgive Helga. She's from the old world and a bit old fashioned."

"Me, old fashioned? Hrumph!" Helga’s brows raised and she crossed her arms over her ample bosom.

Cassie's eyes widened when she saw his face. "It's you!" She grabbed her camera and raised it up.

"I warned you before not to do that.” He pushed his command into her head by the use of his mind alone. Cassie obediently lowered the camera.

"What are ye talkin' about?" asked Helga. "Do ye already know the girl?"

"I asked you to get La Roux for me, Helga. Now do it before I lose my temper."

"Aye, Caretaker." Helga swung her wide hips back out the door.

Basil unbuttoned his shirt, slipping it from his body and throwing it across the room. He toyed with the Egyptian ankh that hung from a chain around his neck. Myth had it that crosses repelled vampires, but Basil could verify that wasn't true. Or at least the version of an Egyptian ankh didn't bother him. Still, he always wore it under his shirt as the sight of it did seem to upset Antonio and the boys.

"I told you to stay away from here."

She flashed a sarcastic smile. "You said to stay away from the cemetery."

He noticed Cassie's eyes roam to his bare chest. Just the feel of her gaze sent a tingle flitting across his skin. "Same thing."

"I don’t think so."

"What are you doing here?" he asked, irritated, but rather pleased she’d come back.

"I blew out a tire and that woman Helga said there was a nice man in the kitchen who might be able to help me."

"Well she was wrong." Basil stepped over the puddle of soup and walked to the other side of the kitchen.

"Wrong about what part? That there was a nice man in the kitchen or that you could help me?"

He turned around to see her putting her camera and tape recorder down on the counter and picking up the towel. He then watched her cute bottom wave back and forth as she wiped up the spilled soup.

"Like I said," he answered, "she was wrong."

Cassie stood up with the blood red towel in her hand and stared him in the eye. A daring action to look a vampire in the eye, giving him the power to control her. Gullible, but yet courageous. If only she knew.

The door burst open from the other room and La Roux ran in, long red hair swinging back and forth. She had quite a developed body for only being eighteen years old, and Basil knew he'd have to watch out for her even more now that she was blossoming.

"Basil, hurry up. It's Helga." Her voice held an urgent tone he’d never heard before.

"What's the matter?" He ran to the door and pushed it open. That’s when he spotted Helga sprawled on the floor with a crowd of men around her.

"I think she's having a heart attack,” La Roux shouted out. “We need to get her help, now."

La Roux rushed through the swinging door, but Basil grabbed her hand and turned her around. Tears streamed down from her powder blue eyes, her heavy makeup streaking in the process. He didn’t like to see her this upset.

"There's nothing I can do,” he explained, knowing full well she wouldn’t understand.

"You mean nothing you want to do," she answered.

Basil sniffed the air, then closed his eyes and shook his head. "She'll be dead within the hour," he announced. “With or without my help. It’s too late.”

"How can you be so sure?" Cassie elbowed her way between them and pushed the door open wider.

Basil ignored her and continued talking to La Roux. "The sheriff's out there. Tell him to take her to the hospital. She doesn't have any family to notify."

"We should call an ambulance," urged Cassie.

"No!" Basil looked directly at her this time. "Now keep out of this. It's none of your business."

"I'll go with the sheriff," La Roux suggested.

"No,” Basil answered firmly. “You'll stay here and get the girls back to work. I don't know what kind of games they're playing, but I don't like it. They need to get back to work immediately." Basil would do whatever it took to maintain order. Their existence depended upon it. He wouldn’t lose control – he couldn’t. He never took his job as caretaker lightly.

"Maybe we could close down for the night?" La Roux sheepishly looked up out of the corner of her eye.

"You know my answer to that. Get back to work and hurry up and get Helga the hell out of here." He noticed the darkening sky out the kitchen window. If Antonio and the boys awoke before Helga's body was far away from here, he’d have chaos on his hands. With the amount of blood her body held, it’d be too tempting of a feast for the boys to pass up.

He gently pushed La Roux out the door and turned back toward Cassie. The look on her face was aghast.

"What's the matter with you?" he asked, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a bottle of whiskey. He twisted off the top and took a swig, not bothering with a glass.

"What's the matter with
me
?" she repeated, nearly shouting. "A woman's out there dying and you see fit to open a bottle of booze and celebrate."

"Is that what you think I'm doing?" People like her would never understand his kind.

"Well, you don't seem to be mourning any. What kind of man are you that you have no feelings at a time like this?"

"I thought we already covered that question." He raised the bottle and took another swig.

"Oh, that's right. I forgot. You're not a nice man."

Or not a man, anyway.
He took another swig. Mourning was not a trait of vampires. They were normally void of any emotion, but hell if he'd try to explain that to her.

She walked over to him and stuck her face just inches from his. His acute senses felt the warmth of her breasts against his chest though she wasn't touching him. His blood began to stir with dormant sensations brought to life once more. It was more than he could handle. Why the hell didn’t he feel emotion toward losing Helga, but with Cassie he felt more emotion than he’d had in the last two centuries? Damn it all! He was a vampire. He wasn’t supposed to feel anything. What kind of powers did this woman hold over him to make him feel almost human?

“Arghh,” he growled in aggravation, sending the bottle of whiskey smashing against the wall with a mere flick of his wrist. Cassie jumped back and her fear thickened the air.