Dead and Alive

at all with the elegant drape of the coat, Victor studied his reflection, and the mirror presented to him a man who had the style and the bearing of a sovereign born to the throne.
    Because there were mirrors also at the Hands of Mercy, he left the closet. As he crossed the bedroom, his cell phone rang.
    He stopped at the door to the hall and, after a hesitation, took the call. “Yes?”
    “My esteemed master, my glorious brute,” said Erika Four, “we have prepared a resting place for you at the dump.”
    He was resolved not to lose his temper and determined not to let her dominate as she had in her previous call. “I thought you were coming home.”
    “We have lined your grave with the rotting cadaversof some of your Old Race victims, and with the remains of those of your people who failed you and could not be resuscitated as I was.”
    “Perhaps,” he said, “you have the courage to call but not the courage to face me.”
    “Oh, darling, sublime megalomaniac, you are the emperor of self-delusion. I will face you soon enough. I will smile at you and blow a kiss as we bury you alive in the depths of the dump.”
    Victor happened to be looking at the doorknob when it began to turn. He drew the .45 from his shoulder rig.

    QUICK, QUICK, QUICK , Jocko scurried east along the north hall. Stopped at the corner. Peeked around. Nobody in sight.
    A bite of soap would be nice. Stay focused. Kill first. Soap later.
    He knew where to find the master bedroom. Erika mentioned it when sneaking him up the back stairs. Main hall. Opposite the grand staircase.
    Tippytoe, tippytoe, across soft rugs. Pretty rugs. Would be fun to twirl on rugs so soft and pretty.
    No!
Don’t think about twirling. Don’t even
think
about it.
    Grand staircase to the left. Double doors to the right. This was the place.
    Standing at the doors, hand on a doorknob, Jocko heard a muffled voice. Harker’s memory said,
Victor’s voice
. Just beyond these doors.
    “Perhaps you have the courage to call but not the courage to face me,” Victor Helios said.
    A murderous fury gripped Jocko. As he tried to bare his teeth, the flaps of his mouth quivered against them.
    Jocko knew what he would say. As he attacked Victor. Ferocious. Merciless. He would say,
I am the child of Jonathan Harker! He died to birth me! I am an outcast, a monster from a monster! Now you die!
    That seemed like a mouthful. He had tried to edit it. But he really, really wanted to say it all.
    He started to turn the doorknob. Almost threw the door open. Then realized. No weapon. Jocko didn’t have a weapon.
    Furious with himself, Jocko let the knob slip through his hand and, after all, did not burst into the master suite.
    Stupid, stupid, stupid. He hooked two fingers in his nostrils. He pulled back toward his forehead. Pulled so hard tears streamed from his eyes. He deserved it.
    Focus.
Stay
focused.
    He needed a weapon. Knew where to get one. Kitchen. A knife.
    Tippytoe, tippytoe, quick along the main hall. More soft rugs. To the south hall. Down the back stairs.

    IN THE LIBRARY , Erika said, “My name isn’t Mrs. Danvers.”
    Christine still spoke with a light English accent.“Please, Mrs. Danvers, I quite want to avoid unpleasantness of any kind. We can co-exist. I am confident we can, and we should. I know
I
want to, for Maxim’s sake.”
    “Don’t you recognize me?” Erika asked. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you know where you are?”
    Christine looked distressed, and her mouth trembled as if she might become emotional in a way precluded by her program. Clutching the book, regaining her composure, she said, “I am not as fragile a spirit as I might look, Mrs. Danvers.”
    “Erika. I’m Erika.”
    “Do not think you can convince me that my mind is going. I am weary of your wicked games.” She pushed past Erika and left the room in a rush.

    SNEAK, PAUSE, RECONNOITER. Sneak, pause, reconnoiter. Stairs to hall to kitchen.
    Oh. On a counter in the kitchen was a large bowl of apples. Yellow apples. Red apples.
    The apples drew Jocko. So colorful. Not too big. He wanted them. Had to have them.
Had
to have. Apples, apples, apples. Not to eat. Something better.
    Jocko selected three apples. Two yellow, one red.
    Beginning with two apples in his right hand, one in his left, he juggled. Loved to juggle.
Needed
to juggle.
    He had juggled before. Stones. Walnuts. Two spoiled lemons and a package of rancid cheese. Three rat skulls.
    Apples were the best yet. Colorful.