Out of Time 01 - Out of Time

help there.”
    He obviously knew things he wouldn’t, or couldn’t share.
    “I see,” Simon said, clearly angry at the priest’s withholding, and rose from the couch. “Thank you for your time. Elizabeth?”
    She smiled apologetically at the priest and stood. “Thank you, Father. You’ve been a great help.”
    “It was my pleasure, child. You’re welcome here anytime.”
    Simon barely waited for her to catch up as he started for the door. After the cool sanctuary of the church, the midday sun beat down on them with a vengeance.
    “Sophistry,” Simon mumbled to himself and pushed out a frustrated breath. “I should have known that would be a waste of time.”
    “I don’t think it was.”
    He looked like he was about to give her a scathing rebuttal, but his expression softened as he gently touched her cheek. “Perhaps not,” he said. “Regardless, we should find stakes. There’s likely a hardware store not too far. There must be other weapons we can find.” He loosened his tie and rolled his neck. “Damn heat.”
    “Simon, I don’t think going all Rambo is going to help.” He stared at her blankly, clearly not following the reference. “I mean, I’d feel better with some sort of protection, but—”
    “But what? Against my better judgment, I’ve agreed to abide by your wishes and stay in this...city. But I will not let another day go by unprepared.”
    Arguing was futile and the heat sapped her strength. It was impossible to remain angry with him. She knew how difficult it was for him to stay in town. How difficult all of this was for him. “All right,” she said. “But aside from getting stakes, what can we really do?”
    “Over there,” he said. “The telephone office.”
    “We’re gonna kill him with long distance charges?”
    “That was beneath even you,” he said, but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
    She stepped closer and fiddled with his tie. “You’re testy when it gets hot, aren’t you?”
    “Elizabeth, please,” he said and pulled the tie from her hands. “This will take subterfuge. Do you think you’re up to it?”
    “I can fuge with the best of them.”
    “I’ll take that as a yes,” he said and stepped back and looked at her appraisingly. “Do you have any lipstick?”
    Now that was an odd question. “Umm, no.”
    “Nothing to be done for it, I suppose.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    Simon ignored her sarcasm and narrowed his eyes. “Lick your lips.”
    Maybe the heat really was getting to him. There was a nice shady spot over by the newsstand. “I think you need to sit down.”
    “I need you to cause a diversion. Use your feminine wiles.”
    “Oh. Oh!” she said, realizing what he’d been talking about. She pulled the collar of her dress down and arched her back, pushing out her breasts. Shifting her hips to the side, she looked at him coyly. “Little ol’ me?”
    His frown deepened. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea.”
    She pouted, and he shook his head. “Come along, Matahari.”
    * * *
    “Be careful with that,” Elizabeth said, as she closed the door to the apartment behind them.
    Simon carefully eased a mason-sized, glass jar out from under his jacket. “Would you stop nagging?”
    “When you put the acid down, I’ll stop.”
    It was insane, she thought. Brilliant, but insane. Religious icons aside, there were only four ways to kill a vampire—a wooden stake through the heart, beheading, burning, and exposure to sunlight. Too bad tanning beds hadn’t been invented yet. King was just vain enough to try one.
    The wooden stakes were easy enough to come by. A visit to the local hardware store and a few tent stakes later, they were set. Beheading, aside from being absolutely disgusting, was more difficult. That left fire. Burning the host body would also destroy, or release, the demon. Or so the books said. Carrying around torches was a bit too Mary Shelley and rather impractical. She doubted King would agree to a picnic in Central Park.
    That’s when Simon hatched his crazy scheme to acquire other means. While she’d caused her diversion in the telephone and telegraph office, Simon had slipped into the battery room and somehow managed to pilfer a jar of sulfuric acid. It wasn’t difficult really. She’d gone in first, face flushed from the heat. Of course, she’d run in place outside first to get a good sheen of sweat and that slightly out of breath helplessness look down. The two men on the desk were