Book One, Chapters 41 to 50

The Vampire's Daughter
Book One
Chapters 41 to 50

Copyright, 2003, 2004, 2005, Reuben Gregg Brewer, all rights reserved.

0041
Janet Long arrived at work with two names—Susan and Jane Angle. She had to decide what to do next.

She could not risk using Susan's name to search for answers. That might result in Susan being taken from her. She would not allow that, she would not let Susan get caught up in the system.

Jane Angle was the only way to look, but how? And what if the search turned up someone, anyone, looking for Susan?

Janet was uncertain if leaving a loose end was worse then the suspicion she might unearth searching for more information. She could simply disappear with Susan, move to a new town where no one would know that she was not Janet’s daughter.

But the idea of not knowing as much as possible was too difficult to accept. She would always wonder when Susan would be taken away from her. She would always be looking over her shoulder. She decided to make some calls.

Janet started from the bottom of Manhattan and worked her way back up for lack of any other plan. Since Jane Angle had died, she figured calling local police stations would be the quickest route. It didn't take long to get the numbers of every police station in New York City, it was just a matter of making time for the calls.

Good luck or bad luck, it only took three calls for her to get results, though time wise this required nearly two hours, as she could only call between patients.

"Hi, I'm trying to find a friend of mine who I haven't seen in a few days," she said. This was the lie she hoped would cover up her true aim. "Her name is Jane Angle."

The phone attendant, a pleasant older woman, who was the central gossip store for her station, instantly remembered the name. It was the last story that her friend Dave told her before he was shot in the line of duty.

It was the vampire case that John Wayne was on. Although she knew Jane Angle was dead, she said that she didn't have any information. She explained that Detective John Lewis often handled missing person cases and that she would transfer Janet to his line. As it turns out, the phone attendant hadn't yet heard the gossip about John being put on administrative leave because she had only just come on duty.

Janet thanked the attendant and decided she might as well leave a message for the Detective. She reasoned that even if he did not know anything, he might be able to help find something out.

"You have reached the desk of Detective John Lewis, I can't take your call right now but if you leave a message I'll get back to you as soon as possible. If this is an emergency, please hang up and call 911."

At the beep, Susan repeated her lie and left her cell phone number.


0042
Later that day, John arrived at the Chief’s condo. It was on the second floor of an apartment building on Clearwater Beach. It was actually not on the beach, but one street in from it. Still, it was a very nice location with a view of the Gulf of Mexico.

John wasn’t thinking about how nice the view was, though, because his mind was still on the case. He had barely spoken two words since he left the station. He wasn’t sure if he was angry or frustrated—or both.

"Why?" was the one word that kept repeating in his mind.

Why kill the girl? Why kill everyone involved? Why did that guy talk to me and not anyone else? Why did the Chief pull my case and send me to this hellhole?

While some would think a six-month paid vacation in Florida a blessing, John didn’t. There was something big going on, and he wasn’t in the loop. That upset him.

John decided to call it a “night” and crash on the couch. A tacky thing that looked like it was bought in the 1970s, but very comfortable. Although he fell asleep quickly, it was a fitful sleep. He kept seeing the face of the victim and the face of Sabastian.

When he finally woke up, it was mid-afternoon. "Wow," he said to the empty room, "I must have been really out of it. Guess I needed the sleep."

He roused himself and headed out the door to find some food. Luckily, there was a bar virtually next door.

He soothed his mind with some beer and, since he was so close to the water, some clam chowder. As he was eating he turned the case over in his mind.

"I’ve got no evidence. What do I know? I know there was a murder. The victim was a drug addict. She had a daughter. Some guy named Sabastian pops in and out warning me to get out of the city. My boss sends me out of the city on administrative leave. And it appears that the little girl is with the killer.

"Nothing fits together, yet it does. Sabastian and my boss both know something, but neither will tell me what. This thing is bigger than it seems. White slave trade? High profile drug dealers? Some guy’s concubine? The father of the girl is rich and wanted to get her back, or away, from Jane?

"That could be it. Maybe the victim was involved with some rich guy and Susan Angle is the daughter. I don’t know who the father is. Although Wayne Cashman said it could have been him, he doesn’t really know for sure. Maybe that is the connection. It would answer for the Chief shutting me out of the case. And it could explain Sabastian—he works for the rich guy and is trying to protect him.

"But that doesn’t seem to make sense. She was a drug-addicted prostitute, what rich kid would mess around with her? Of course, Susan was about six or so. Jane could have been a very different person six years ago. And some rich guys have ‘favorite’ prostitutes. But what about the way she was killed?

"There is more going on here. The Chief isn’t going to tell me, that’s obvious. I need to find this Sabastian guy. He’s the key here. He’s the only link that isn’t dead."

John paid and headed back to the condo. The phone rang as he walked through the door.

"John, how you doing?" the Chief asked.

"Fine, I guess."

"You’re thinking about the case aren’t you? Well forget it. You’re out and that’s that. Have fun."

"Yeah, I guess you’re right."

"Yeah, I guess I am. Besides, that wasn’t a request, it was an order."

The rest of the conversation was mundane information sharing about the area, what to do and where to go type of stuff. John paid very little attention. He knew the Chief was doing what he thought best, but John couldn’t help but feel betrayed. After all, this was really just a check up call to see if John actually followed orders.

"Thanks Chief. I guess we’ll talk soon," John said as he hung up the phone, starting to accept his fate.

As soon as he had put the receiver down, though, he instinctively picked it up again and dialed in to his work voice mail. A couple of nothing calls and then bingo—a new lead and a new fire.


0043
"A friend, calling around looking for someone who is dead?" John chuckled. There were too many coincidences going on for this woman’s story to be true. She knows something, but not enough to know what’s going on or she wouldn’t have called.

"What could she know? Why call the police? And how did she get my number?" he questioned out loud.

John sat down and made a few calls to some friends. He got Janet Long’s real name, phone, and address from the number she left on his voice mail. He called Janet’s cell number, though, so as not to scare her off.

"Hi, Detective John Lewis returning your call. You say you’re missing a friend?"

"Yeah," Janet answered. "I haven’t seen her in a few days. I’m kind of worried. I was wondering if something had happened to her."

"On the message you said her name was Jane Angle, right?"

"Yeah, that’s her name."

"How do you know her?"

Janet’s lie began to unravel quickly. She hadn’t thought through her whole story and John was asking question she couldn’t answer. Basic questions like what did Jane Angle look like were tripping her up. Finally John put an end to it. "You don’t know Jane Angle, do you?"

"No," Janet was a bad liar and prided herself on telling the truth. It actually felt good to tell the detective she didn’t know Jane Angle. But Janet was still reeling from the onslaught of questions. It was obvious to her that the detective knew something about Jane.

"How do you know about her?"

"I just do."

"Then I’m guessing you know she’s dead."

"Yes."

"Tell me what you have to do with this."

"Nothing. I didn’t. This was a bad idea," Janet said, though it was far too late to do anything about it.

"Maybe or maybe not," John answered. He sensed that this woman had something to do with the case, but it wasn’t malicious. She was motivated by a desire to help, not hurt. But help in what way? He decided to take a chance. "I’m going to be honest with you, we don’t have any leads on this one. You might be able to help us figure out who killed Jane Angle. You obviously know something or you wouldn’t have called."

After a long pause, Janet was called back to the emergency room. "I, I have to go."

"We’ll talk soon."

"I guess I don’t have a choice."

"No, not really," John answered. As soon as a he hung up, he called information to find a travel agent. He was going home.


0044
“Why couldn’t I leave well enough alone,” Janet said out loud as she went to deal with a patient, she had been kicking herself all night for calling the police. “Curiosity killed the cat, and me,” she berated herself.

She had just worked a double shift and was sticking around because her replacement hadn’t shown up yet. She had been in the hospital for something like 20 hours and she was exhausted.

Luckily, she had the next three days off. That was the only thing that was keeping her going. All night and all morning she was thinking about where to go with Susan. She finally decided on Washington D.C. All the museums were just too tempting to pass up. And they would be that much better with Susan there. She would rent a car and the two of them would be there in five hours. She’d worry about a place to stay when they got to D.C.

She was concerned about the detective, but that wasn’t going to stop her from getting away. Besides, he had her cell phone number. He could call her again on that. She was sure he would call her.

When her replacement strode in, Janet announced, “Mike, you’re a jerk. I’ve been her for 20 hours. Don’t do that to me again.”

“Hey, I’m sorry,” Mike said, cockily. “She just wouldn’t let me go.”

“Screw off,” Janet said as she went into the back and got her stuff. Within minutes she was out the door.

When she got home she apologized profusely to Claudia, Susan’s de facto baby sitter, explaining again what had happened. The first time she called to apologized after being at work for about 17 hours, the second time after 18 hours, the third time Claudia told her that it was OK and she must stop calling.

“It is no problem. Susan is lovely girl,” Claudia said looking into the kitchen to see that Susan was eating her food. “Come, let’s talk.”

Claudia took Janet into the living room of the apartment and showed her some of the drawings Susan had made. “This man. This man is death. This girl has seen the face of the dead.”

“What do you mean? I don’t understand,” Janet replied. She felt as if she were just too tired to handle everything that was going on, and Claudia was freaking her out with all of this death stuff.

Claudia looked directly into Janet’s eyes and said, “When you or I look death in face, we die. This girl, she is special. She look death in face and live. You feel it in her. I have not seen this since I left my country.

“Whole towns in my country disappear. Death would come and take them all. They say disease, but not disease. It was death. Death, he suck life out of victims. Leave rotting corpses.

“This, this is death. Little girl say she know him. That you know him! You must stay away from him. It not safe.”

Janet’s head was spinning. She couldn’t tell what was going on anymore. What did Claudia mean by death? It was a picture of the man who brought Susan to the hospital, Sabastian. Sabastian seemed odd, but he certainly wasn’t the Grim Reaper. And he was so gentle with Susan. Janet figured he was a drug dealer or something unsavory like that, but death was a little too far fetched.

“Aunt Claudia, Sabastian isn’t death,” Susan said standing in the doorway of the kitchen. “He’s my friend. He loves me. He takes care of me.”

“Oh, little one,” Claudia said as she walked over and touched Susan’s face. “You are right, this Sabastian he is good man to bring you to Ms. Janet and Aunt Claudia. Claudia is just frightened old woman, that all.”

Susan and Janet went back to their apartment shortly after that, but they didn’t discuss the issue.


0045
Janet asked Susan if she would let her sleep for a little while, which, as expected, was just fine with her. Janet told Susan about her plans for a trip to Washington, which was also OK. The lack of emotion was bothersome, but Janet could only think of sleep at that point.

While Janet was sleeping, Susan looked over the pictures she had drawn while she was staying with Claudia. She held them up and turned them this way and that. Each picture was carefully screened and put into piles. Eventually, Susan picked out two, one of her and Sabastian holding hands and another of her dressed up in Sabastian’s jewelry.

"I’ll give these to Sabastian," she said out loud.

Walking in to Janet’s room, Susan quietly came up to the bed and asked, "Janet, can I go play with Claudia?"

Sleepy, Janet simply consented with, "Sure, honey."

When Susan went next door, Claudia was happy to see her again, asking, "What? Back so soon?"

"I’d like to go for a walk, but Janet is sleeping. Will you take me?"

"Claudia will take you, but you will have to walk slowly. Claudia is old woman," she answered with a wink.

"I will."

The two set out shortly before nightfall. It was obvious to Claudia that Susan was going somewhere specific, this was not just a random walk. "Where are we going little one?"

"I wanted to drop these pictures off for Sabastian before Susan and I go away for a trip. Susan said we are going to Washington, wherever that is."

"We are going to see this Sabastian? I don’t think that is good idea."

"Oh, don’t worry. He isn’t awake. He sleeps all day. I’m just going to put these pictures under his door."

"This Sabastian, he sleeps all day?"

"Yes."

Claudia was more concerned then ever, but decided to continue asking questions rather than turn back.

"How did you meet this Sabastian?"

"He was there when my mother died."

Far more calmly than Janet, Claudia asked, "Did Sabastian kill your mother?"

"No, she killed herself. She wanted to die. She wanted her pain to be over."

"And how did you meet him?"

"After she died, I went to say goodbye. He took me home with him."

"And what did you do at his home?"

"I drew and played dress up. It was fun," she answered.

After a brief pause, Susan said, "Claudia, you don’t like Sabastian, but you should. He’s really nice. He isn’t death, he’s just Sabastian. I’m supposed to be with him. Now he can’t, but soon he will take care of me. He told me so. I didn’t realize it at first, but then I remembered."

Claudia said no more, letting Susan lead her to the house. On the surface it seemed that Susan was playing make believe, but Claudia sensed there was more. It was better, she thought, if they delivered the drawing as quickly as possible and talked later.

When they arrived, Susan slipped through the two outer courts and put the pictures in the mail slot. "He’ll like these," she said as she pushed them through.

Claudia, meanwhile, stood out by the street. She could feel Sabastian’s presence. This house was most certainly the house of death. On a normal day, she would have cursed the place and walked on as quickly as possible, but strangely she felt safe because Susan was with her. It was as if Susan was a protection, a talisman.

As Susan came back, Claudia leaned down and hugged her. "You are very special little girl. Now let’s go home."

The two walked back to Claudia’s apartment as quickly as Claudia could manage. She wanted to be home before it was dark.


0045 Part Two
After dropping off Susan's drawings, the two of them walked back to Claudia's apartment. There Susan watched television while Claudia tended to her home. When it was time for her to go to bed, Claudia gave the little girl a blanket so she could sleep on the couch, kissed her on the forehead, and said goodnight.

Sabastian found the two drawings just before Susan fell asleep. He normally ignored the things shoved into his door, but these two pieces of paper drew his attention. There was an emotion tied in with their creation, he sensed it.

When he arose earlier that night, Sabastian, as was his custom, reviewed the prior night in his mind. He replayed killing the two Enforcers and then going back to watch as the others who had set out that night returned to the Tribunal. First one pair and then, much later, the other. So late, in fact, that Sabastian had to rush home to make it before dawn.

To his dismay, Sabastian did not sense anything from the returning Enforcers. Neither group had brought anyone or anything back to the Tribunal. And, neither group seemed to return with a feeling of success. Looking back, he wondered where they had been.

Now, though, Sabastian was wrapped in his memories. He meant to get out early and follow the Enforcers again, but those plans had fallen aside.

"Susan, it seems, has not forgotten me," he said out loud. His feelings ran inside of him. Everything he had done was alright because this little girl loved him. Every stupid mistake was fine so long as she loved him.

Part of him wanted to deny the love he felt for her, but it was overpowered. He knew that he would see her again. He knew he had to see her again. He would do anything to keep her safe. He wanted to see her grow—something he never experienced with his own daughter.

The emotion of the moment, though, was pushed aside when he realized he was being watched by others of his kind. They were brazen, simply sitting in the front court. The drawings had waylaid him too long, the Enforcers had already left the Tribunal and Sabastian now knew where the second set had gone the night before.


0046
The first plane detective John Lewis could catch brought him into LaGuardia Airport at about the same time Susan was going to sleep. On the trip, John thought only about the case. His main interest now was Janet Long.

How was she connected? What did she know?

He assumed she didn't know much or she wouldn't have called around aimlessly looking for information. It was obvious she was involved, but not in the murder, as such. She was tied to this case in a different way.

He thought that, perhaps, Jane had left her daughter with this woman before she went to turn tricks. Yet that didn't seem to make sense because she already knew about the murder and the bum had seen the girl leave with the murderer. It was more likely that she had found the little girl after the man was done with her or interrupted him before he had a chance to do anything.

Perhaps Janet had taken Susan to help her. But why call around the way she did? Why not just bring the girl in to the police or a hospital? Maybe Janet Long didn't have anything to do with the girl. Maybe she was involved with the man in some way. But John couldn't get his mind around it.

He felt that, the way she spoke, it was as if she had something to hide, but he couldn't decide what that could be. And if she did have something to hide, why call around to the police at all? Wouldn't it be better to just let it die?

Janet Long didn’t seem to make any sense when added to the puzzle, but then none of the pieces fit very well right now. Unfortunately, John was so caught up in his theories, that he hadn’t thought about what he would do when he arrived in New York. This dawned on him when the plane hit the runway.

For starters, the Chief had thrown him out of the city. Second, it appeared that someone or organization was looking for him—perhaps to kill him. Third, and most obvious as he stood in line for a cab, he had nowhere to go and no way to get there.

He couldn't go for his car because it was at the police station and it would be foolish to go home since his house had already been ransacked. He wanted and needed to "lay low."

Once in the city he knew he could get around in cabs and via public transportation. That was no big deal, but where to stay was a problem.

A $100 cab fair later, he was standing in front of Wayne Cashman's apartment.


0047
"I already told you everything I know, man. Why are you harassing me?" Wayne Cashman asked as he opened the door to let John in. He didn’t even think twice about allowing the detective to enter, he knew that he couldn’t stop him.

"I'm not here to ask questions Wayne. I'm here to ask for a favor," the detective said as he walked in.

"Everyone knows I got picked up and let go. No one wants to deal with me. They all think I’m working with the cops to save myself from going to jail. What do you want now? You ruined my business, what else is there?"

"Wayne, you're a drug dealer so don't give me any sad stories. I'm actually glad to hear that I've put a crimp in your sales. But what I need now is a place to stay."

"No way. You can't stay here."

"Well, I could always take you down town and arrange for you to occupy a suite in the station." This was a complete bluff, since John couldn’t go to the station after being ordered by the Captain to chill out in Florida for six months. But John was a good poker player and Wayne wasn’t.

"Come on. Why me? Wouldn't it be safer to stay with another cop? Don't you guys have safe houses and stuff like that?"

"Look, this case with Jane Angle. Someone is trying to get to me. I don't know who and I don't know why. All I know is that it isn't safe for me to be in my home. And I don't think it's safe for me at the station. There is more to this case than meets the eye.

"If you cared about this girl at all, you'll help me. There is no other way I'll find out about her death or her daughter."

"And if I say no?"

"You won't. I can already see it in your eyes."

Wayne just sighed and sat on his couch.

"You really did care for her, didn't you?" John asked.

"Yeah. Besides, you know that I think her daughter may be mine."

"We'll do all we can to figure this one out."

After a quick look around the apartment, John said, "Your place is kind of small. I guess I'll take the bedroom and you'll sleep on the couch."

Wayne just sighed again.


0048
Sabastian sat in his living room with Susan's drawings while his uninvited guests were sitting outside waiting for him.

It was likely that they knew he was inside. But would they actually try to get in if he didn’t leave?

The Tribunal knew about the detective. By now they would have figured out that someone had killed the two Enforcers sent to find him. Sabastian knew that the Enforcers at the scene of the murder must have seen him, after all, he had seen them. Now, it seemed, the Tribunal wanted to know what he had to do with the incident. Killing two Enforcers would have been nearly impossible for humans and, for that matter, most of their own kind. Sabastian realized that the next logical step would indicate him.

But there were many unanswered questions. How much do they really know? Did they know he followed the ambulance? Did they know he spoke with the detective? Did they already know he killed the Enforcers? Did they know about Susan?

The first questions didn't upset Sabastian nearly as much as the last. He could handle himself, but Susan would be defenseless.

She was only a little girl and she was caught up in something that could escalate quickly. She had done nothing to deserve the mother she had and now she had done nothing to deserve being killed by the Enforcers because of a foolish mistake in which she wasn’t involved.

At that moment, a horrendous thought passed through his mind—what if these pictures were left by the Tribunal? What if they already had Susan? What if they were using Susan as bait to lure him out?

This was a situation that he could not abide. He had to know and the only way to figure it out was to meet with the Enforcers. He quickly cleaned the room of anything that might show that Susan had been in his house. He certainly didn't want to provide these two flunkies with any new information if they didn’t know about Susan.

Sabastian was, in fact, hoping to get more than he gave. He assumed his uninvited guests would want him to pay a visit to the Tribunal, but he hadn't decided on how to deal with that just yet, as it depended on how things progressed.

After a double check of the living room, Sabastian walked to his front door, opened it, and said, "You might as well come in, unless you would prefer to slink around my door all night long."


0049
At first the Enforcers were taken aback. They had expected, and were prepared for, a fight. To be welcomed in openly took a moment to sink in. Distrustful, but unsure how else to proceed, they walked into Sabastian's house.

"Please, have a seat on the couch," Sabastian said. "It has been a very long time since I have had the pleasure of chatting with my own kind. What are your names?" he asked as the taller of the two Enforcers sat down.

"My name is Sol," answered the tall one, "and this is my partner, Baal."

"Interesting, the sun and the Biblical god Baal. Well, I am sure you already know my name, but I am Sabastian.

"What brings you to my home?" he asked as he sat in his armchair.

Sol replied, "The Tribunal has requested your presence."

"Requested my presence," Sabastian said with true surprise, as the Tribunal he knew was more likely to make demands than requests. "What ever for?"

"That I do not know."

"Oh, well. I should very much like to know why I am needed before I go. I have so many pressing things, you see, I would not want to put them aside unless it is truly important."

"We’re authorized to use force if necessary," announced Baal.

"Are you, child?" Sabastian asked in an attempt to put him in his place, though he knew it would more likely infuriate him. Sabastian sensed that Baal was uncomfortable with the situation from the moment he walked in. Further, Baal was impatient and impetuous. Sabastian attributed this to his youth. It was clear that Sol was a good deal older, and far more restrained.

As Sabastian had guessed, Baal grew visibly angry. Sol put his hand on his partner to calm him. Sol was well aware that Sabastian was playing with them. His age also afforded him a deeper understanding of how dangerous Sabastian could be.

"Sabastian, you must excuse my partner for his rashness. As you have guessed, he is young yet.

"The Tribunal has indeed given us leave to use force, but I hardly believe that will be necessary. You can rest assured that the Tribunal believes the situation they wish to discuss with you is very important. They do not send requests lightly."

"Nor, I assume, do they normally send four Enforcers to request an audience," responded Sabastian, sensing that the third pair from the other night were watching his back door.

"No, in most situations a single Enforcer would be sufficient. I think you should view a four Enforcer escort as an honor."

"Or I could see it as a threat."


0050
It was obvious that Sol felt the situation worsening. Sabastian was still playing with them, but it was clear he wanted as little as possible to do with the Tribunal. "Sabastian, I understand your hesitance. The Tribunal has been organized and has conducted its business around you. This resulted in a peaceful coexistence for many, many years. Indeed, even before my time. I only know of you from the tales of the elders.

"I assure you, that the Tribunal has only made this request because something important needs to be discussed."

"And that would be?"

"I know very little. I am, as you know, an Enforcer—I am told only what I need to get my job done. What I know is that there was a woman taken by one of our kind and the body was found by humans."

"And why is this important to me?" Sabastian asked.

"Such a breach of the rules is quite rare, as I am sure you know. It concerns all of our kind because of the risk of exposure."

"True, such a gaff is both odd and dangerous, but I am sure the Tribunal is up to handling the matter."

"The matter is already being taken care of," Sol responded, though Sabastian knew he was lying. "We simply need your help to resolve some lose ends."

"Lose ends? What do you mean by that?"

"We don't yet know who was responsible," answered Sol.

"And you believe I am involved?" Sabastian challenged.

"I did not mean to insinuate such a thing," he replied, backing down. "The Tribunal simply believes you will be able to help us find the one who did this."

Sol was obviously nervous now. The stories of Sabastian were not exaggerated and fighting him would be folly for any but the ancients. And even the ancients would not welcome such a fight. Sabastian could feel his fear, though Baal was itching to prove himself, and believed that Sol had been mostly honest with him. Besides, he would be able to get more information from the Tribunal itself than one of its henchmen. It was clear they suspected him, but to what degree?

"Well, I suppose I can delay my plans for one day," said Sabastian. "Sol, I will let you lead the way."