Dracula Lives (37 page)

“By the way, I have changed the title. It is no longer
The Blood of Dracula
. It is now
Dracula Lives
. Much more fitting. Because … you must attend the premiere to find out.”

A sweeping motion of his arm caused the screen to go black.

Quinn and Johnny were in a race against fire. They sprinted to the connecting door. Quinn brushed sparks off her as she fumbled to get it open. They coughed in the smoke. Finally they got through and closed the door behind them.

The fire hadn’t gotten into her apartment, but they could feel the heat through the wall of the studio. They raced to the door that opened into the corridor.

“I can feel the heat from the other side,” Johnny said.

Quinn nodded. “We don’t know how far the fire has gotten down the corridor. It could be right outside the door.”

“We’ve got to chance it. There’s no other way out.”

Quinn nodded again. “If it’s out there, as soon as we open the door, it’ll come rushing in, looking for oxygen.”

“Backdraft.”

“Right. And there’s not enough room in the entryway for us to avoid it.”

“Wait a second,” Johnny said. She ran to the bathroom. A moment later she came rushing back with two large wet towels. “We can wrap these around ourselves.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “It’s the best we can do.” He motioned for her to stand back. “If there’s fire when I open this, we’ve got to cover our faces and bull our way through it.”

“Let’s do it.”

They wrapped the towels around themselves. Johnny pressed herself against the wall. Quinn got behind the door and opened it. The flames rushed in with a loud
whoosh
. “Let’s go!”

They covered their faces and plunged through the fire. It was coming from the right. To the left the corridor was clear.

“Let’s get the hell out of here!” Quinn said.

They jammed the towels into their waistbands in case they needed them again, then ran as fast as they could. Fires were springing up in the nooks and crannies of the great hall, but nothing blocked their path to the front door. They opened it and scanned the porte-cochère for any lurking threats. Nothing moved as far as they could see in the moonlit darkness. They cautiously made their way down the stairs and through the porte-cochère. When they were safely on the other side of the access road, they silently watched as the Blood Moon shone down on the fall of the House of Markov.

Finally Johnny spoke. “Good riddance.”

As the hellfire swallowed the castle into its greedy throat, reflections flickered across Johnny’s face. They struck Quinn as the victory dance of the fire she’d started, rejoicing at her escape from Markov’s Hell. But when he focused on her face instead of the reflections, he saw sadness. “What’s wrong?”

Johnny kept watching the blaze. “For the first time in my life, I’m finally free.” A feeble smile made its way through the sadness. “But I’m also homeless.”

“No, you’re not,” Quinn said, throwing his arm around her. “You’ll stay with me until we figure something out.”

She looked at him and her eyes moistened. They hugged, then probed each other’s gaze as though searching for answers.

“Did what we just saw actually happen?” Quinn said. “Can Markov and his vampire breeding stock be walking around in a virtual House of Markov?”

“We can’t have imagined what we just saw,” she said. “He’s good at creating the illusion of reality, but he’s not that good. He has come up with a way to enter a movie. The question is: can he and his vampire whatevers come back out?”

“He can’t have done everything he’s done, just to rule as Vlad Dracula in a make-believe movie world. This isn’t over. Somehow he’s coming back to start his new race. And knowing his flair for showmanship, I’ve got to believe he’s going to make his grand entrance at that premiere.”

“You’re right. One way or another, he’ll be there. That gives us one more chance to stop him.” She paused, apparently considering possibilities.

“What?” Quinn said.

“I’m thinking about what you said. His flair for showmanship. There’s nothing a showman loves more than a big audience reaction. After spending his whole life obsessed with making the ultimate horror movie, you’re right. There’s no way he’ll miss that. Which means that—unless he’s figured out a way to hear it from inside the movie—he might already have re-entered the real world and be in the audience at the premiere.”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours,” Quinn said, “it’s that anything’s possible. Which means we’ll have to not just be keeping an eye on the screen, but watching out for any strange movements in the theater.”

“After living in a haunted house all these years, I’m good at having eyes in the back of my head.” Johnny glanced up at the Blood Moon. “We need to get to Los Angeles. Fast.”

“Right. But we’ve some details to work out first.”

“Such as?”

“Such as the fact that all my cash, credit cards, ID—” he pointed to the House of Markov going up in flames—“everything we have is in there.”

“I’ve always kept a spare credit card in the Hummer, just in case. That will take care of everything.”

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Five minutes later they were standing inside the barn.

“Before start winging our way to Los Angeles,” Quinn said, “we’ve got to have something to stop him with when we get there.” He nodded at the boxes of wristbands and bear spray on the table inside the door. “Something better than this.” He pointed to the tranquilizer gun. “What about that? What were you using that for?”

“I haven’t used it yet. I ordered it on-line and it got here just before you did.”

“What were you going to use it for?”

“When I saw Markov’s monsters trying to break out, I didn’t think magnets and bear spray would be enough.” She reached into an open box and pulled out a packet of something. “So I figured I’d try getting this into his system. It’s a clotting sponge to stop bleeding in an emergency. I thought I could wet the sponge, then squeeze the water with the clotting agent into the darts. There are two dozen sponges and two dozen darts. I don’t care how invincible he thinks he is, if we can get this into his bloodstream, it’s got to do
something
. Something that couldn’t be good.”

“Good thinking. We’ve seen that silver bullets didn’t do it. He can just pull them out. But something in his bloodstream—he can’t pull that out. This needs to be part of our arsenal.”

“We’d never get it on the plane. Or the other stuff for that matter.”

“We don’t have to,” Quinn said. “We can just box everything up and take it with us. FedEx it overnight and have it held for us at FedEx in Los Angeles. It’ll be waiting for us when we get there.” He paused as another idea occurred to him.

“What?” Johnny said.

“The tranquilizer gun is going to be our best shot. It would be better if we both had one. You said you got this on-line?”

Johnny nodded.

“When we get to the airport, we’ll find a computer and see if we can order another one. It’s a long shot, but we might get lucky. Get them to ship it overnight to the same FedEx office. If that doesn’t work out, we can try to get one in Los Angeles.”

“Whatever happens,” Johnny said, “he’s not leaving that theater.”

Quinn and Johnny had gotten into Los Angeles late last night, rented a car, and checked into a hotel within a few minutes walking distance of the Orpheum.

Now they stood under the neon-lit marquee.

They had gotten to the theater at 6:30 so they could be first in line and have ample time to get everything ready for the eight o’clock screening.

Five people had gotten there before them. In the nearly half an hour since, the line had rapidly grown.

They stood close together and spoke softly so the others in line couldn’t hear them. “I have to give the devil his due,” Johnny said. “His publicity campaign must have been brilliant. He predicted a sold-out premiere, and it looks like he was right.”

“I looked up the Orpheum before we came out. It seats over 2000. At the rate these people are coming, if it’s not sold out, it’ll be close.”

“Markov couldn’t have found a more perfect place for his premiere,” Johnny said. “His family lived a couple blocks away. He grew up going to movies at the original Orpheum, which was only a little farther down on Broadway.”

“I know,” Quinn said. “He told me movies were his escape from a rotten home life. He said he’d sit in the Orpheum for hours, wishing he could go through the screen and into the movie, because their lives were always much better than his. And even though this isn’t the original Orpheum, it
is
the one where
Dracula
debuted in Los Angeles. Which definitely makes it the perfect place for him to release what amounts to his long-delayed sequel.”

The line of people with tickets, mostly in costume, had disappeared around the block. Another line was growing at the box office. Both lines were abuzz with excitement. Johnny and Quinn had dressed for the occasion. Both were disfigured hunchbacks. Quinn pointed to the poster in the glass case.

“Somewhere, William Castle is smiling,” Quinn said.

“Markov is nothing if not a showman.”

They heard the sound of the lobby doors being unlocked. Quinn looked at his watch. “Right on time.”

As they walked through the ornate lobby, Quinn again tried to suppress bittersweet memories of his father. Seeing a horror movie on Halloween—his birthday—had been their annual father-son ritual, full of love and laughter … until the last one. When he’d been killed by a crazed fan. Of the movie
Halloween
.

Tonight could be as bad. Maybe much worse.

The sight of the attendant in Will Call triggered another memory of his father, this time a happy one. In his cheesy Dracula getup, the attendant reminded Quinn of the host on the creature features he and his father would watch on Saturday nights when he was little: Dr. Paul Bearer.

“Ah,” Dr. Bearer said. “Igor and Bride of Igor.” He took a beat before adding, in a very bad Bela Lugosi, “I bid you welcome.” His smile showed yellowing teeth. No fangs.

“Thank you,” Quinn said. “You have two tickets for us. The name is Quinn.”

“Ah. Yes.” He had the envelope with their tickets ready on his desk. “Guests of Mr. Markov.”

“Yes. But I was wondering if you could do us a favor.”

“Certainly, if I can.”

“I think Mr. Markov reserved us seats on the balcony. I know they’re good seats, but with our eyesight, we’d rather sit downstairs. In the front row, if possible.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. Those seats are too close for most people. This early you can have your pick. Just a second.” He pulled two passes from his desk and stamped them. “Just give these to the usher.”

“Thanks. You’re a credit to the name Dracula.”

“Thank
you
. Go freely, but”—he raised an eyebrow and slipped into his bad Lugosi—“watch out for creatures of the night.”

“I guess we need to get out of here then,” Quinn said, “since that would include you.”

The attendant smiled and turned to wait on the next in line.

Quinn handed Johnny her pass and they made their way through the beautifully restored lobby of the movie palace. The glittering chandeliers, white marble walls, and plush carpet made Quinn think how much he would enjoy seeing a movie here under normal circumstances. That thought quickly faded as he kept picturing the horror that might unfold in the next few hours. When they entered the theater and he saw the screen, he wondered if
Dracula Lives
would be the last movie ever shown here. He used the walk down the aisle to clear his head, and by the time they reached the front row, he was completely focused on what they had come here to do.

There were a few people in the second and third rows, but the first was completely empty. They sat in two seats closest to the middle aisle. “You go first,” Quinn said. “I’ll wait here.”

Johnny gave him a small, tight nod and went through the side door nearest the stage. After making sure no one was around, she took off her costume shirt and quickly shrugged out of the knapsack she had been using as a hump, then put her shirt back on and rejoined Quinn.

“Be right back,” he said.

He went through the same door and quickly removed his knapsack/hump. A minute later he was sitting beside Johnny. The knapsacks contained the things they had FedExed to themselves—including the second tranquilizer gun.

The theater was filling up rapidly, but only a couple more people had come into the front row. They sat several seats in, on the other side of the aisle.

As discreetly as possible, Quinn and Johnny peeled the scars from their faces and began pulling their weapons from the knapsacks. They put six magnetic bracelets on each forearm, over the shirtsleeves rather than under them. More than just for protection, they could quickly be pulled off and either thrown at or attached to whatever was coming after them. They stuffed wolfbane, garlic and canisters of spray into pockets for whatever good it might do. The tranquilizer guns they slid under the seat. Finally they pulled out ammo belts they had bought this morning at a local gun shop. Each belt held twelve darts filled with the clotting agent. They clipped them on and concealed them under their shirttails.