Читать книгу Bloody Awful - Georgia Evans - Страница 6

“We are facing a difficulty.” Hans Weiss glanced at the other two vampires in his landlady’s unheated parlor. He wasn’t entirely convinced they weren’t involved somehow. How else could a vampire disappear without a trace, except at the hand of another stronger, older vampire?

“Difficulty?” Schmidt said, his voice sharp with worry. “You, my friend, are sounding too much like these damn island monkeys. It is a disaster!”

Bloch appeared to agree. “What I want to know is how Eiche was exterminated. Assuming he really is destroyed and not just gone to earth somewhere.”

That amounted to an accusation of desertion, but Weiss let it pass. For now. Who wasn’t concerned at the apparent destruction of a fellow vampire? And a loyal, committed German to boot.

“Can we really rely on this fairy?” Schmidt asked. “What if she’s lying?”

“Our masters believe her,” Weiss pointed out. “Seems taking her blood forged a connection that they are using to track us.”

“They might have warned us,” Schmidt muttered.

Bloch just scowled.

“That would have defeated their purpose. We all enjoyed her blood and her struggles. Too late for regrets.” Weiss said. “We have to accept reality and go forward. They want results and we need to provide them.”

“Or they’ll do what?” Bloch asked. “Report us to Churchill and his cabinet?”

“Some of us have bloodkin being slowly starved,” Schmidt reminded him. “We can not risk them.”

“Before I risk my existence, I want to know what, on this accursed island, can destroy one of us?”

Weiss held back the smile. Bloch had handed him the perfect opening. “I agree, my friend. And that is your assignment. Find out what or who has this power and we will destroy them.” Bloch’s barely concealed temper was a delight to behold. He could not refuse without admitting the task was beyond him. They also needed him for another task. But that could wait.

Bloch recovered fast. “And no doubt you have a good cover set up for me?”

Sarcastic bastard! Weiss smiled. “That we will tailor for you.”

“Indeed.”

“Pity our agent was arrested,” Schmidt said. “She would have been useful.”

“She still will be.”

“Indeed?” Bloch smiled. “Is she sending messages from the Tower of London?”

“No, I go to her.”

“In prison?” Schmidt sounded totally amazed.

“In hospital. Remember she had that fall?” Not any sort of accident, Weiss was convinced. “She was arrested, yes, and repeatedly questioned, but she’s still in traction. Can’t be moved. She’s in a private ward in hospital. Most convenient.” He couldn’t resist the smile. “We have another two weeks, I believe, before she leaves for prison and subsequent trial. Plenty of time to pick her brains. We will see her tonight.”

In different circumstances, Bl*och would have enjoyed the run. Nothing like racing across open country in the dead of night, leaping railway lines and rivers, and outrunning a blacked-out train to remind one of the invincibility of vampires. Eiche he discounted. The arrogant fool had no doubt been ridiculously careless. Present company was another thing entirely. He resented and despised Weiss: smug, opinionated and acting as if he were running the war for his own entertainment.

But his means of access to the hospital where Miss Waite was imprisoned was nothing short of ingenious. Of course the bombing raid that had the hospital staff running around at sixes and sevens to cope with the injured made it even easier. If the Luftwaffe had arranged it for their convenience it couldn’t have been better. A climb up a dark corner of the building and short dash across the roof, with all the delicious human pain and suffering under their feet, followed by a short swing down to a darkened window.

“I thought you might be dropping in,” Miss Waite said, as they climbed in through the window and Weiss eased the sash down. “How are things?”

“We need your help,” Weiss said, as he crossed the room.

“Fair enough,” she replied. “Tell me though, is my erstwhile nephew safe?”

Weiss hesitated all of three seconds. “Eiche? That’s partly what we came about.”

“Thought so. Snooty police and a chap from London were down here this afternoon. Going on they were all about how he’s disappeared from Brytewood and did I know where he was.” She gave a chuckle. “I told the truth, said I had no idea. Got away alright then, did he?”

“He can’t go back to Brytewood.” Clever that. Weiss always did have a way with words. “We need your help to get another agent into the village.”

She looked from Weiss to Bloch. “What the blazes can I do, flat on my back, handcuffed to the bed?”

She had a very good point but Weiss brushed her concerns aside. “Quite a lot, my dear fraulein.” That was risking it a bit. Damn! Had Wiess no sense of survival? He’d be jabbering on in German next. “You know that village in a way we do not. What do they need? If we can send Willi in as a vital addition to the community, he will be welcomed and pass with less scrutiny. What does that village lack?”

She laughed. “What isn’t it short of!” She shook her head, adding a few more creases to her wrinkled forehead. “Let me think.”

They waited in the silent room, as she plied her mortal mind to their problem. Bloch hoped she didn’t suggest he arrive as a traveling acrobat or fortune teller.

“Ever baked bread?” she asked, with a sly twist to her mouth.

“Not in the past hundred years or so.” That took the edge off her smirk. His father has been the baker in his village. “Bread’s just flour, yeast and heavy work.” Which would be a snap with vampire strength. No more straining of muscles to heave sacks of flour or knead mountains of dough. “What do you have in mind?”

For a mortal flat on her back, she was downright gloating. “Our village baker was one of the first casualties of the war: run over during the blackout. The shop sits empty and there’s a small flat above it. You lot work out the logistics of getting some sort of authorization and identity card, and taking over the lease, or perhaps requisitioning it and you’ll be in business. The village will welcome you with open arms. Their only other choices now are a bus into Leatherhead to buy bread or to make do with the dreadful stale stuff Sam Whorleigh has shipped in from Dorking.”

Not quite the cover Bloch would have chosen but worth the sacrifice for the cause. “I’ll be Block the Baker.” Sounded like a character from a children’s card game.

Weiss was thoughtful a minute or so. “The papers will have to be faked and sooner or later the cover will get blown but should stand for a month or so. We can do a lot of damage in a month.”

“Good show!” The old biddy smiled as if she’d single-handedly defeated the army and air force together. “Pity I won’t be there to see it.”

“Yes,” Weiss replied very quietly, with a meaningful glance at Bloch. “You won’t be.”

Her smug expression lasted just as long as it took Weiss to grab her wrist and put his hand over her mouth. “Take her femoral,” he hissed, as he bared his fangs and bit into her wrist.

Sucking on an old lady’s thigh wasn’t exactly a thrill. But it was blood and Weiss was in charge so Bloch pulled off the covers. Amazing how much she still struggled but he held her unplastered leg to the mattress and, leaning over the bed, bit. Funny how wrinkled old crones still had warm, rich blood and plenty of it. They both fed until her struggles ceased and Bloch felt her heartbeat slow to a standstill. He lifted his mouth, cleaned the wound with his tongue and rearranged the covers over her lifeless legs.

Weiss did the same, smoothing the sheet under her chin.

“We’ll have to get busy with your papers,” he said. “We’ve no time to waste, and there’s no one there now to expose you.”

Other than the vampire killer. Unless that ridiculous fairy had it all confused and Eiche had skived off on his own.

Weiss was out of the window. Bloch followed, up to the roof, and down the dark corner, just as several ambulances came speeding up the drive, sirens going. How wonderful. The bombs they’d heard earlier must have landed well.