Vampire$ - Page 28/33

 

Felix's disgust started kicking in when he had to shut down the Antwar Saloon.

He had to do it. It would delay his return to the hospital, but he couldn't have his customers and employees sitting innocently around the place while vampires wandered through looking for the owner.

No. He had to do it. And it only took half an hour.

But then, sitting there at his desk, with his closing note to his employees and their checks all written, it started getting to him. The waste. The whole, useless, worthless messy waste of it got to him. Dammit! It wasn't like he had much of a life, anyway, and he was going to have to lose even that? Shit.

Jack Crow and the Crusaders. Noble and brave and tough and all the rest of it.

But losers. Losers because they were losing.

No way they were going to make it through tonight. No way they were going to stop the vampires at that hospital. Witnesses? Hell, the vampires wouldn't care and, anyway, who would believe it? And who would believe it after seeing it? A couple of days later - with everyone treating them like they were nuts - and even the eyewitnesses would think they had imagined it.

The ones that lived, anyway.

Shit.

Crow loses - what is it? Six, seven men? And he goes to Rome and comes back with what? One priest. Father Adam was a good man. Well, better than good. In fact...

But he was still just one guy. Crow shoulda brought back twenty men, all priests, and a bishop of his own.

But he didn't. He didn't do a lot of things and because of that they were all gonna die.

He turned in his desk chair and looked out the picture window that overlooked the bar. Only it was dark in the bar now. The only thing he could see in the glass was his own face, in the reflection from his desk lamp.

All going to die.

I'm going to die.

"You're going to die," he said out loud. "Tonight."

Shit. It didn't even sound dramatic enough.

If it was anybody else but Annabelle... Well, if it was her, of course, Davette, he'd have to do it. And maybe...

But that wasn't the goddamned point.

The goddamned point was that they were going to lose.

And the vampires were going to win, those slimy, greasy, bloodsucking fuckers were going to keep at it. That really riled him. And that notion that they had been sitting here, in his bar, while his waitresses and bartenders served them because they didn't know. That was the deal. These miserable bastards would be treated as real live people by those who didn't know. Like they really weren't scum. Like they really belonged to the company of mankind, instead of... of what? What did they really deserve?

Sewage.

"I'm going to die," he said again.

And then he turned back to his desk and wrote what he hoped was a legal document and be hoped he spelled her name right. Then he put it in an envelope, labeled it "Last Will and Testament," and shoved it in the back of his checkbook. They'd find it.

Lousy Crow with his samurai bullshit. We're already dead so nothing matters but Style! Crap! Is that his excuse for losing? Because the only thing worse than letting the vampires run free was losing to them first.

Shit!

He stepped away from his desk and looked around his rooms one last time, at some photographs on the wall, some souvenirs, some knickknacks. Not enough to leave behind after thirty-odd years.

Well... then... fuck it.

Fuck it!

At least he'd make damn sure he hurt them first.

And he stopped and looked again into the glass laughed.

Talk about your samurai bullshit.

Felix got lost in the vast complex of Parkland Hospital trying to find a new route from where he'd parked the motorhome. It took him ten minutes to finally come around a corner and see the sign for ICU/EMERGENCY. Below the sign, on a couch against the wall, were Cat and Davette. Adam stood against the wall beside them.

Davette was crying.

"What?" he called out, tripping toward them.

Davette lifted her face from her hands and it was all red and bright and tears streaked her cheeks.

"Oh, Felix!" she cried. "Annabelle died!"

And she leapt up and threw her arms around him and sobbed like a child, her fragile ribs heaving under his rough hands. He held her and patted her dumbly. Past her, Adam still leaned against the wall, his face grave and pale. And on the couch, Cat looked a whole lot worse, staring straight ahead, boring his eyes at nothing.

"I don't get it," Felix managed. "The doctor said - "

"She killed herself, Gunman," rasped Cat in a voice from the grave.

"Sleeping pills," added Adam in a quiet voice.

"But... why?"

Cat turned his head at last and looked at Felix and his eyes were scary.

"Because she knew we'd stay to protect her. And she... couldn't... stand..."

And then Cat lost it, broke down completely. He collapsed, folding into his own miserable dry sobs, and Felix didn't think he could stand it, Cherry Cat bawling, and even Davette, hearing that awful wrenching sound, pulled herself loose from Felix and returned to the couch and embraced him and the two of them shook and rocked together.

Felix sat down hard on the magazine-littered coffee table in front of the couch and fumbled around and found a cigarette and put it in his mouth and managed to light it and...

And he was too stunned, too shocked to do much else. Too blown to think. Numb and stupid and... Annabelle dead? Dead? Killed herself? He couldn't bear their tears but there was no place to go and Adam didn't look much better so he just sat there and stared at the hospital tiles under his feet.

I should feel relief, shouldn't I? I mean, I'm not going to die tonight, after all. I should feel relief.

Why don't I?

He started to take another puff and realized the cigarette had burned, unsmoked, down to the filter while he sat there numb and stupid and -

Waitaminute!

He caught Adam's eye and mouthed: Where's Jack?

But Adam only shook his head grimly.

What the hell...

Felix got up and went over to him and moved him down the wall away from the others.

"Give," he said tersely.

Adam shrugged, looked miserable.

"Jack's gone."

"Where?"

"We don't know. He... He just walked out when they told us."

Felix glared at him. "Did he say anything?"

Now the young priest looked about to cry.

"He said, 'I even managed to get her killed.' Then be just walked out."

Felix looked around. "Is he outside, then?"

Adam shook his head. "He took a cab. Felix?"

"Yeah?"

"He didn't look good."

"Like how?"

"Like... like crazy."

Great. Felix looked at the other two. They were still crying.

Great.

Davette had finally gotten Cat to go to sleep in the main bedroom of the hotel suite. His sullen silence on the way from the hospital had been almost as unnerving as his weeping. She had fallen asleep watching him, curled up on the edge of the bed. Adam lay dozing on the lounge beside the bed. Felix sat in a chair by the great picture window that overlooked the Galleria Shopping Mall. The ashtray beside him was full.

And the sunset was lovely.

Shit.

He looked at his watch. Five hours now. No sign of Jack. No call. No word. No clue.

He looked over at the sleeping trio. He didn't blame them. If anything, be envied them. He was tired, too. But he was more worried than anything else. He bad brought them to this hotel because it had been the place they were planning to go and because...

Because he didn't know what else to do.

No one had heard from Crow. He had called the hospital half a dozen times. He had called the bishop's - the late bishop's - office and home and church. He had called the Team's new house three' times without answer. Each time he had imagined the phone ringing in Carl's destroyed workshop.

He stood up slowly, thought about sneaking into the other room to try calling everyone again. But he knew better. Crow wasn't at any of those places. Not now and not later.

I even managed to get her killed.

And the sleeping three looked mighty small without him there.

They look like I feel, he thought, and sat back down and added to the ashtray and stared at the blasted sunset.

"Where's Jack?" came from behind him a moment later.

Felix turned and looked. It was Cat. He looked better. Still pale and drawn and.., hurting. But better. The sleep had done its deed.

"Where's Jack?" he repeated, sitting in the chair beside Felix's.

"I don't know," Felix replied.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he's gone. He left from the hospital. No one's seen him since."

"But it's almost nighttime!"

"Yeah."

"I don't understand!"

Felix looked at him. I don't understand either, he felt like saying.

At least I hope I don't.

But he didn't say that. Instead, he gave Cat what little he knew from the beginning. When he told him what Adam had said Jack had said, he checked the other man's face closely for a reaction.

But there was none. Just the same confusion. And concern.

Davette and the priest, he noticed, were up and about once more. Listening.

"I was hoping," Felix said next, "that you might know something."

Cat frowned. "No. I've been sorta..."

Felix nodded. "Yeah. But you know Jack better than anyone. In fact, you're the only one here," he added without thinking, "who's known Jack for any..."

And then he stopped, shut up, as the realization hit him. As it hit Cat. As it hit the rest of them.

Two months ago, a full Team Crow. With soldiers and money and Carl and Annabelle and Cat and the monsters on the run.

And now... just Cat left. In this room anyway.

Felix held his breath watching Cat, but the smaller man came through the moment. It took a few deep breaths, a little concentration, but he stayed on top.

Good for you, Cherry, Felix thought.

But they had things to do.

"Where do you think he might go?" Felix continued. "After Annabelle. Would he go get drunk or..."

Cat was silent a moment. But when he spoke his voice was clear enough.

"He might. He... we all... loved her. He might just get drunk."

"Where?"

"Huh?"

"You know his favorite joints. Where would he go?"

Cat nodded, thought a bit. Then he stood up and went over to the bed and sat down next to the phone and rummaged under the end table until he found a phone book. He opened it and started thumbing through it, his other hand resting on the phone. Then he stopped.

"The thing is, the only places I know where he'd go... Well, they might know about them, too. And he wouldn't go there in case they came looking for him. The only places he'd go would be the places no one knows he goes. And that could be anywhere."

He put down the phone book.

"I guess we'll just have to wait for him to find us. He knew we were supposed to wait here until the plane leaves."

The plane? Oh, yeah, Felix remembered. The plane for Rome.

But Jack Crow wasn't thinking about that plane.

"Where," Felix asked casually, "is his favorite spot?"

"Huh? Well, the Adolphus. He loves the place, the rooms, the service. He loves the bar. But he couldn't go there. That's the one place they'd be sure to look for him."

"Give 'em a call," suggested Felix, his voice still casual.

Cat frowned. "C'mon, Felix. He wouldn't go there! They know about the Adolphus."

Felix shrugged. "It's worth a try."

Cat shook his head. "That would be asking for it and Jack - "

"You want me to call?" This time his voice was as strong as his mood.

Cat eyed him a moment. Then he picked up the phone and started dialing. Cat seemed to know this number. And he seemed to know the voice that answered.

"Terry? This is Cat. Mr. Catlin. Hi. I'm looking for Mr. Crow. I just thought... What? You're kidding. Ring him for me, would you? But Terry. You know me. This is an emergency. I... Okay. Okay. Never mind."

Cat hung up and stared at the others in amazement.

"He's there. In the Governor's Suite. He's turned off his phone."

Felix just sighed and turned away and puffed on his cigarette.

"I don't get it!" Cat cried next. "Does he want to die?"

"I think," said the Gunman quietly, "that's the idea."