Fourteen
Matt’s eyes blinked open and he came slowly awake, disoriented for a moment when he found himself in a strange bedroom. He was lying on his side with his right arm crossed over Sam, his right hand cupping her breast. Not a bad way to wake up, he thought, closing his eyes with the intention of grabbing a few more Zs.
A sound from the other room brought him fully awake, his heart pounding. Had Morpheus somehow found their hiding place?
He scrambled out of bed, looking for something he could use as a weapon, but there was nothing even remotely suitable in the hotel room, unless the Gideon Bible in the nightstand could ward off the vampyre.
Matt leaned over the bed and shook Sam awake, holding a finger to his lips to keep her quiet. He slipped his pants on, clenched his fists, and slowly opened the door to the adjoining room, holding his breath.
He relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief to find Shooter and TJ sitting on the couch, a rolling table in front of them with several room service breakfasts on it.
Shooter glanced over his shoulder, grinning as he spread butter on a piece of toast. “’Bout time you guys got up,” he said. “You’d better hurry, though, or TJ is gonna eat up all your food.”
TJ smiled at Matt as she shoveled a heaping forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. She is in a much better mood this morning, Matt thought.
“Okay, hold your horses,” he said. “We’ll be out in a minute, as soon as Sam gets dressed.”
“Oh, tell her she doesn’t have to do that,” Shooter said with a leer. “I won’t look.”
TJ punched him in the arm. “That’ll be the day, you lech,” she said, continuing to eat voraciously.
* * *
A little later, as they all sat around the table eating breakfast, Matt said, “I guess we’d better make some plans about what we’re going to do about this Morpheus character. As much as I enjoy it, we can’t just sit around this hotel forever waiting for him to either find us or to be caught by the cops.”
“I thought I’d call Damon this morning and check in,” Shooter said. “See if he’s had any leads to the man who attacked the girl in the park.”
“Yeah, and I need to call Shelly and make some arrangements for coverage in the lab and to let him know what’s going on,” Sam added.
Shooter took a final swig of coffee and moved to the couch and picked up the hotel phone. While the others finished their meal, he called Chief Damon Clark.
“Clark here,” Damon said when the operator rang his office phone.
“Hey, Chief, it’s Shooter.”
“Where the hell are you?” Damon asked, his voice edged with tension.
“We’re holed up in a hotel downtown,” Shooter said. “I’ve got us listed under fake names. Any leads on the assault the other night?”
He heard Damon sigh into the phone. “No, and that’s not the worst of it. We had a murder last night. A local prostitute named Marie Marshal was killed and her body was dumped near some apartments.”
Shooter couldn’t understand why Damon was so upset about a prostitute’s murder. After all, it wasn’t all that unusual an occurrence in Houston. “I guess you’re telling me this ’cause you think it might be related to the assault in the park?” Shooter asked.
“Well, Marshal’s throat was ripped out, all of the blood was drained from her body, and her body was found in front of the apartments that Sam and TJ live in. What do you think?” Damon said.
“Jesus,” Shooter exclaimed, his face paling. “Morpheus is sending us a message,” he whispered under his breath.
“Shooter,” Damon said, his voice growing hard. “You still haven’t told me what the hell is going on here, or how you and your friends are connected to the case. Have we got another. . .” he hesitated, and then finished under his breath as if he were afraid someone in the office would hear him, “another vampyre killer?”
“Chief, remember when we went down to New Orleans last year to check out those Ripper killings they were having there?” Shooter asked.
“Yeah, but you told me when you got back The Ripper had been killed and the case was closed,” Damon said.
“He was,” Shooter said. “But we think the man who assaulted the girl in the park and who probably killed this prostitute, was a friend of The Ripper’s. We think maybe he’s come down here to exact vengeance on us because of our part in killing The Ripper.”
Shooter looked over his shoulder at the others and shrugged as he gave this slightly edited explanation of why Morpheus would be after them.
“Jesus, Shooter!” Damon exclaimed. “I don’t want another one of those crazy blood-sucking psychos killing people in my city again.”
“I know, Chief,” Shooter said, trying to placate his boss. “Let me talk this over with my friends and we’ll see if there’s not some way we can put a stop to this guy before he kills again.”
“Well, you’d better come up with something, and sooner rather than later, Shooter, or there’s gonna be hell to pay,” Damon yelled and hung up the phone.
Shooter turned to the others. “I guess you heard,” he said. “Morpheus has killed again, and he dumped the victim’s body in front of Sam and TJ’s apartment to send us a message.”
“Shit!” Matt said, his face ashen.
Sam glanced at TJ. “I’d better call Shelly and tell him what’s been happening.”
“Yeah,” Shooter agreed. “I don’t think it’s gonna be safe for you or for TJ to go back to work, not with Morpheus on the warpath and looking for you.”
“And, we need to talk to Elijah,” TJ said. “Maybe he’ll have some advice on how to handle this, if he’ll return my call.”
Sam picked up the phone and dialed the number of Shelly’s office.
When he answered, Sam explained that one of the vampyres who’d been involved in the killings in New Orleans had come to Houston and was looking for them and that he’d already assaulted one girl and killed another.
Shelly, who’d been involved with them in the first series of vampyre killings in Houston the previous year, was silent for a moment after Sam finished.
Finally, he spoke. “I think it would be best if you and your friends left town for a while, Sam. It’s just too dangerous for you to stay around here with one of those monsters after you. I’ll get on the phone and make some arrangements with the chief of TJ’s department. I’ll make up some story about her having a relapse of her illness and get him to let her have some time off to undergo treatment.”
“Thanks, Shelly,” Sam said, relief evident in her voice.
“Uh, Sam,” Shelly said, hesitantly. “This Morpheus fellow wouldn’t happen be a black man, would he?”
“No, Shelly,” Sam answered. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, there was this man here looking for you. He said it was urgent that he get in touch with you, but he wouldn’t tell me why.”
“What did you tell him?”
“I just said you were out of touch and that I’d give you his number and have you call him when you checked in.”
“Did he give you a name?”
“Yeah. He said his name was Ramson Holroyd and that he was a friend of someone you knew in New Orleans.”
“Who?”
“A woman named Carmilla de la Fontaine,” Shelly answered.
Sam took a deep breath, her heart pounding at the mention of the name. “Give me his number.”
“What’s going on?” Matt asked, concerned at Sam’s shaken expression as she thanked Shelly and hung up.
“A man came to see Shelly asking for me. He said he was a friend of Carmilla de la Fontaine’s.”
“The leader of the vampire council?” TJ asked. “But, she’s dead. Morpheus killed her last year.”
“I know,” Sam replied. “He said his name was Ramson Holroyd and he left a number where he could be reached.”
“I don’t think we should have any contact with him,” Matt said. “He’s undoubtedly a vampyre and he’s probably in cahoots with Morpheus.”
“I don’t think so,” TJ said, slowly. “If he were working with Morpheus, why would he openly go to Shelly and leave Carmilla’s name?”
“Who knows why those crazy bastards do anything?” Shooter asked, looking around at the group.
“What can it hurt to call him?” Sam asked. “Maybe we can find out something useful by talking to him, and if we’re careful not to give our location away it shouldn’t do any harm.”
Before anyone else could answer, TJ’s cell phone began to ring.
They all jumped and stared at the ringing phone on the table as if it were a snake about to bite.