The Quill Pen Killer (Vampire DeAngeliuson Book 1) Page 7

  Jessica calms down, "Am I that bad?"

  "Are you?" he asks, sounding irritated too, "Think about it."

  The doorman opens the door, "Come in. He'll see you. Please wait in the room here."

  Jessica mumbles, "Thank you."

  Ickabod's Maid enters the room and smiles at Jessica whom she has known since she was a baby.

  "Hello Jessica! Good to see you. Would you like something to drink, darlings, while you're here?"

  Jessica mutters, "No thank you."

  Raven decides, "I'll have a soda." Ickabod enters the room.

  "Jessica!" Jessica stands and he takes her hands and kisses her cheek.

  "Hello!"

  Jessica introduces, "This is Raven. Raven, Ickabod."

  Raven says, "Hi."

  "To what do I owe this visit of yours?" Ickabod asks Jessica.

  "We have come here on a matter of not-such-good news," she begins.

  Ickabod frowns, "I must admit I'm not happy to hear that. Would you join me in the other room?" he asks.

  "Yes," Jessica replies. They walk into the living room and sit the maid brings in iced teas with mint and lemon and a Dr. Sal Smarty-pants for Raven. At this, Jessica remains polite not wanting to break the news, upset his mood, or unbrighten his day so she buffers with small talk.

  "How have you been?" she asks, the only thing she can think of to say.

  Ickabod hints he has no time for child play, "Busy. Very busy."

  "Enjoying life?" she asks.

  "Just thirsting for it." He winks at Jessica. Raven rubs his hands around his neck and looks nervous wondering at the sight of the subtle gesture if he is in the house of another vampire.

  "Tell me, this news, please, the formalities aren't necessary," Ickabod jumps to the chase.

  Jessica takes a group of photos out of her bag. "I think the world of you, Ickabod, as a friend of our family, and it brings me unhappiness to tell you that I think your new statue is a fake."

  Ickabod gasps. "I'll not lie to you, I didn't think you knew about my statue."

  "O yes, that night, at your party, you talked about it, at length. I was standing there, with Date, and you filled us in on all the wicked details. Date and I, as writers, became rather fascinated in the story. As it turns out," Jessica tells him, "the old vampire is an ancestor of my family. "

  Ickabod is surprised. "O really! The way some things work out..."

  "I have here an old photograph of the statue... and here an article," Jessica lays them out on a table in front of Ickabod and continues, "and here... your photo of the recently purchased statue in your hall." She hands over this photo as well.

  "You'll see where we've circled, there, the difference between the ancient photos and your own."

  Ickabod looks at the circled photograph, "I see..." He says turning the photo slightly under the light.

  "It's quite different there, yes it is. Quite different. There appears to be a ring on her hand."

  There is a moment of silence. Until, at last, he stands up, both hands in fists at his sides and tells his guests, "I am outraged!! This is a travesty! A travesty! I tell you... Gretchen!!" He calls. The maid hurries in.

  "Get me my phone! I've got to get on this at once. It is true, Jessica, I have waited," his voice turns to a whine, "I have been patient, I've been.... I've hardly had a night's sleep! This must be it! I'm not letting this art dealer rest, no I won't..."

  Jessica stands up as the maid hands Ickabod his phone and he begins to dial, "I'm so sorry to have had to be the one to tell you," she consoles.

  Ickabod dabs his forehead with a handkerchief, "I'm just glad you did."

  Into the phone he says, "Yes... Odious? Ickabod. I'd like you to come over at once. When can you be here? Fine. 2:30 it is. Don't be late!" He hangs up the phone. He takes out a new handkerchief and blots sweat, again, from his forehead.

  He groans a woeful sigh, "Oooooo....." Jessica helps him into a chair while he fusses.

  "I've just put so much of myself into this, you know? It's dreadful!" Jessica, about the only other person in the town who can understand the intensity of this statue's affect on their lives, offers as many condolences as she can think of at the moment:

  "Can I get you anything? Here, a sip of your tea." She hands the glass to him and he drinks.

  "Would you like me to be here with you, when Mr. Odious arrives?" Ickabod accepts the momentary pampering with little whimpers and o's.

  "That won't be absolutely necessary," he says, "but if you'd like to, Jessica, then please stay."

  "O Fright, I would like to help out," she says resolutely.

  "I'll stay and you'll see, we'll do this together. Raven, you can go home if you'd like to. I'll stay here and help Ickabod." Raven gulps rubbing his fingers along his neck having held his hand near his throat continually since he caught sight of that wink between 'friends'.

  "Yes, I'd like to go... now... Bye!" he says and practically runs out of the room. The front door is heard slamming shut and footsteps running down the long flight of stairs.

  That night in Ickabod's mansion, three men in dark suits pace around the room with the black and white tiled flooring where the statue stands centered in the room. One has a cell phone and is talking to France. Another is checking with his eye glass the area of the 'missing' particle and repeatedly referencing the photo in his hand of the blown up detail he has witnessed as actually missing. The third is consoling Ickabod whose emotions have not lessened since earlier that day.

  "How could you let this happen?" he keeps asking, often throwing up his hands or pacing back and forth. Jessica holds the cat, rubbing her ears and whispering to it occasionally. Once again within the same twenty four hour period, Jessica begins to lick her dry lips from the intense thirst that had been growing over the past two hours.

  "I'm parched!" she blurts out. Ickabod stops his fussing and looks up.

  He furrows his brow and exclaims, "Me too," in a way that sounds as much a question as a statement.

  "I've actually got to get going," Jessica excuses herself, "I'd like to write, tonight... I've been writing about this whole experience... and..."

  "O cruel intentions, stay for a drink," Ickabod interrupts.

  "Gretchen!!" he demands, “We've suddenly a world's thirst! Could you?"

  Gretchen raises one eyebrow in sudden alarm, "Could I what?..."

  "O don't be ridiculous, let your neck out, of course, dear, what did you think I meant?" Ickabod sneers, then insists, "no sorry, get us some iced teas? To each of us, please." Gretchen hurries back out of the room, glaring at him.

  "Honestly," Ickabod wails, "like I'm a common creek leech... for Old Nick's sake, I'm downright insulted. That's twice today."

  Jessica laughs, "I've got to try that one with Raven."

  Jessica resolves to stick to her former plan of excusing herself from Ickabod's passing up the iced tea, "Thank you for the offer, but I think I'll stop off at the coffee shop on the way home. Kiss, kiss! Let me know how this turns out."

  "I'll certainly invite you over when the 'authentic' statue arrives. I'm not resting 'til this is over, you know," Ickabod stands firm.

  "Yes, Ickabod, I know," she says and walks out into the evening air, "and I agree with you. I'll be of any help I can."

  Ickabod waves, "Good-Bye, darling!" as she walks down the steps under the moonlight in the shining glow cast by black, iron lampposts that dot the walkway. Jessica walks along the downtown street toward the coffee shop, dialing Raven on her cell phone to see if he'll join her at the coffee shop but gets only his message machine. The ghoul, friend of the one she'd drained, steps out of an alley and begins to follow her, acting nervous at first and then casual, as he follows.

  Jessica turns into the coffee shop and a little bell over the door sounds as she opens it. A bright looking girl at the counter smiles at Jessica as she enters. The ghoul quickly steps in behind Jessica and raises his right hand. He brings it down quickly behind her back as if h
e were to strike her, beating her. The counter girl suddenly looks down, and acts busy as the dark-haired witch steps in front of her and shifts her weight to one hip, grabbing a pen and looking up as if she were annoyed at Jessica's arrival.

  Not sure if she is being 'waited on', Jesssica says, "Hi." The coffee witch just stares at her.

  Jessica ventures that the pen in her hand is the admittance that she is, in fact, the waitress about to take her order so she goes ahead and places it, " A latte, please," she says.

  The coffee counter witch mutters, "Mmm, room?"

  "Room?" Jessica asks.

  "Room for cream, milk, cow?"

  "I said a latte," Jessica gives up, "No, no thanks."

  "Next!" the coffee witch yells with the first burst of enthusiasm since Jessica walked in the door. The ghoul steps up to the counter as Jessica steps aside. He whispers his order. He puts down money and sneaks away into the corner to watch. Suddenly, Jessica's father appears at the door. A strange and unsettling sound accompanies him like souls through a portal, or a howling wind. He enters and snarls at Jessica just as she is reaching for the cup that the coffee witch is handing her.

  "Jess-ica! No," her father cries out. Jessica looks up, startled. The cup suddenly hits the counter and smashes, spilling the hot liquid down the front of the counter.

  "Father..." Jessica curiously begins. Just then the witch lifts up an amulet from her chest and Jessica's father makes empty cry like a sound wave sent in the coffee witch's direction. She flies back through the kitchen into the back room wall where a can of chocolate sauce falls onto her head and drips down her face. The bell over the door is heard as the ghoul escapes out into the night and down the street. Jessica looks up at her father, astounded. He puts his arm around her and hurries her out the door into a car waiting out front.

  The car drives off.

  "What was that?!" Jessica complains.

  "No time for talking, now, Jessica. But we will, at home, talk about this, for certain." With that her father pats the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief and puts in his earbuds. He dials in a soothing, calming mix of easy listening music and relaxation quotes while he calms and steadies his breathing.

  "No," he says out loud, "I am a vampire, Jessica, not a troll. I can't be spending my days and nights brow-beating like a unsightly troll, for seven devil's sake! I have finesse. I have allure. For unblessed beasts! I have enchantment. Enough! Really."

  Jessica starts to complain again, but sees the earbuds aren't being taken out, so she turns to the window and watches the dark night's scenery wishing she had just gone home after Ickabod's and wondering where Raven might be.

  The Quill Pen Killer

  Chapter Seven: Stepped up Security

  Jessica is whisked firmly from the car to her father's sitting room. The staff is all assembled and standing in line as Jessica's father paces back and forth.

  Her father starts in at her, lecturing, "We've got to set some ground rules. It's just not safe out there for you now."

  "But Father, I was just at the coffee shop. I always go to that coffee shop...." she interrupts, trying to explain before he gets angry.

  "Always has got to stop," he warns her.

  "You've got to know the difference between a ghoul - out to steal your heart - and customer service - out to steal your lot. Did you even know that 'person', that 'thing', at the coffee counter? There is just so much to teach you in so little an amount of time. Before you're on your own. I should have been working on this years ago."

  "Sir," Mattressa interrupts - if I might be of help, she's growing up, quite rapidly... It happens quickly with girls. You can't protect her from everything." Her Father points to the staff.

  "This is your sta". If you'd like coffee, they can get it for you. If you'd like to visit Ickabod, you can be driven to visit Ickabod. If you and Raven would like to go somewhere for the day, our butler can drive you there, order for you, and stay with you, not in your way, but with you for the afternoon. And no going out at night."

  "Wha-?!" Jessica does not pronounce the t as her jaw is left hanging open in disbelief of her father's cruelty for nearly and entire minute and a half.

  "You heard me," her father says wondering for a moment if her mouth will ever, again, close all the way.

  "Yeah, but it isn't fair! How will I...."

  "O watch what you say, now, child..." he insists.

  "...write?" Jessica completes her sentence.

  "Write, what is write? You'll go shopping, or have things brought to you, catalogs to choose from. Stuff like..."

  Jessica groans, "Stuff like that? But... how will I get out? How will I get away," and then very quietly under her breath she mutters, "from you?"

  Her father ignoring her complaint says, "You're not making sense, Jessica. Did you realize the counter girl as a witch?"

  Making light of the obvious yes, she smiles and gasps, "No. Was she?"

  "Ever see me mistreat the wait staff before?" he asks.

  Jessica laughs, "Not exactly. Not like that." Her father restates his new rule and moves to wrap up the house meeting brought on by Jessica's misfortunate encounter.

  "Now, Jessica," he says, "I will expect you to have someone with you at all times. Understood?"

  Jessica moans, "This can't be happening."

  "You know," he complains too, "that's exactly how I feel.

  After your mother died, I learned to love you, Jessica. But this, this is a big step for me, a vampire, don't forget. I don't know if you noticed, but raising a teenage daughter... a vampire on the celebrity playlist... it just isn't me, darling. It's, well, I'm trying to understand you, watch you 'become' into a truly, superb vampire. And it's different for me. I just can't have the whole city torn apart while you evolve, Jessica. I can't have it."

  "Yes, father," Jessica grumbles.

  "Now, up to your room," he motions with his hand up toward the ceiling.

  "But it's so early," she protests.

  "Well, do some of that writing you've been talking about or something," he dismisses her.

  Jessica looks around nervously, "No," she fidgets, looks at him as if she might try to explain this is part of the trouble lately, but a defiant look comes across her face instead and she stands up straight and says resolutely, "Yes, okay, I will." She looks the wait staff fiendishly, up and down, each one, almost admitting that she'll take a victim and which one shall it be? All of this in several moments is lost on her already preoccupied father (after mentioning the word love he is already worrying if a vampire can love a teenage daughter, he wouldn't have said the word years ago, and of course, there is concern about his reputation), and within three seconds, he looks up and excuses them all from the room.

  Some of the staff 'skootch' carefully past Jessica knowing full well they had just seen 'that look' in her eye.

  "It is one thing to work for an esteemed, distinguished vampire who always can be counted on in actions and habits; it is totally another thing to be around 'raising' this teen vampire, who could lose composure at any minute and go off like a loose cannon," one of the drivers says to the gardener.

  "This is not what I signed on for; no, not at all," mumbles the gardener.

  Mattressa holds her hand against her neck and sighs, "O, witch convictions." Other members of her father's staff meander out of the room maintaining a look of dutifulness until they reach a safe distance away from his study where they whisper to each other about how that was a total waste of an hour's time. Most of them thinking Miss Jessica is a lovely girl, and her father is quite out of his mind with worry to hold her to a staff person at all hours, to say the very least.

  "A bit of an overreaction," Mattressa whispers to Jessica, touching her hand along the stairway banister, "he'll lighten up." She smiles and walks past her up the stairs as Jessica trudges slowly, like her ankles are weighted, up the curving stair case in defiance.

  "Spared her life blood," thinks Jessica partially sarcastic and partially throwi
ng out threats admonishing the adults around her to own up to this new fact, 'she could drain the life blood out of any of them', 'they'd better not mess with me', and from inside her sweet girl exterior, now filling with teen angst, she off-handedly admits she is not quite sure how to use this 'gift' or 'talent' of which they have grown so 'comfortable' of her father's status. But she is not her father, she tells them, in her head and with the flashing glances of her eyes. Unfortunately, no one heard her, or if you consider her father's denial and opinion, fortunately no one heard her.

  The Quill Pen Killer

  Chapter Eight: A Quelled Quill

  Within several nights of Jessica's internment, Date returns to Ickabod's for a visit. The two of them, sitting at a lavishly set table, drink ice teas and nibble on cheese.

  "So, right back here, then, as soon as your cell count's back up? Hmmm?" Ickabod inquires. "Don't tell me you're one of 'those' girls... never get enough... huh?" He chuckles and bats his eye lashes naughtily.

  "Ickabod, you're my fav-orite guy," she snarls, "how do you mean?" Ickabod nearly shows his fangs to her, but contains himself at the last moment and says candidly, "Some girls never learn which guys to stay away from, do they? Like a moth to the flame. Hmmm?"

  He fills her half full glass to the rim, "Could be the reason for your particular interest in my case of the living statue." He raises an eyebrow at her and pauses, insisting on a moment of introspection. He continues making his point, "I'd guess the story of the artist girl so used by the vampire of the ages that he'd actually ask her to make a 'replica' of herself and then... well, then... 'drain down the actual'... is of specific interest to you? To us?" He makes a 'you' and 'me' motion with his first finger while loading cheese upon a cracker with the other four.

  Date makes a face and denies his inquisitive remarks, "Nooo, can't be. I think it's the historical interest, the artistic value, of the statue, besides me being a journalist. And the fact," she smiles, "that you're being had."