The Book of Death (Bourbon Kid 4)

desperate times indeed for that particular
tramp. It was only November, so the guy had another month to wait before people
started to take pity on him and throw some cash his way in the build up to
Christmas.
    By the time Rick reached his
house he was soaked through from the steadily falling snow and chilled to the
bone thanks to the icy winds. He hurried down the five concrete steps that led
down to his front door below the sidewalk and pulled a set of keys from his
pocket. He fumbled for the correct one, his frozen fingers struggling to get a
suitable grip on the key he required. When he eventually settled on the right
one, he slipped it into the door’s lock and turned it. The door clicked and he
pushed it open. The hallway inside looked warm. He stepped inside and onto the
brown welcome doormat. The house was much warmer than outside and he placed his
hand down onto the radiator on the wall. It was suitably warm, but would no
doubt need turning up before the night was through. His shoes were soaked and
carrying all kinds of debris on the soles. He rubbed them on the mat and turned
to push the door closed behind him. That was when Rick realised he had a
visitor. And not a pleasant looking one. He was greeted by the sight of a giant
man in red lunging through his front door, his mouth wide open revealing an
enormous set of vampire fangs.
    ‘Shiiiiiiiiiiiit!’
    A huge dark dirty hand slammed
over Rick’s mouth, silencing any attempt at a cry for help. Rick was now
staring right into the crazy black eyes of a vampire dressed as Santa Claus.
What had looked like a perfectly helpless drunken tramp only a minute earlier
when slumped in a doorway down the road, was now a full blown, bloodsucking
maniac. And this motherfucker looked thirsty. The Santa was strong and pushed
Rick back into his hallway, keeping its hand pinned over his mouth. Rick’s eyes
opened wide as he got a close up look at some thick streaks of blood in his
intruder’s bushy grey beard.
    The Santa pulled him in close
and then hooked a leg around the back of Rick’s knees and pushed him again
causing him to fall back on to the hardwood floor. Rick heard the front door
slam shut as the Santa kicked it back with one of his heavy black boots.
    ‘I own the Ole Au Lait,’ Rick
spluttered, hoping it would buy him a reprieve.
    ‘I know you do,’ growled the
Santa. ‘That ain’t what’s gonna save you.’
    Rick looked up at his tormentor,
finally getting a really good look. The Santa was a fearsome looking guy
indeed. Behind his dirty grey beard was a blotchy red and purple face. And
unless he was wearing fake padding, he was decidedly overweight too. But he had
big arms and a head the size of a pumpkin. His red Santa hat was definitely an
extra large and the top part of it hung down next to the side of his face.
    ‘Please,’ said Rick in his most
pleading and desperate voice. ‘I’m a good guy, I swear.’
    Santa leaned over him. ‘I’ve met
lots of children lately who’ve been good all year,’ he said. ‘It didn’t save
them and it won’t save you.’
    Rick grabbed at the Santa’s
beard. This was no way to hurt him though. As he pulled at it, it came away
from his attacker’s face. The beard was a fake, made from animal hair and held
on by an elastic band wrapped around his ears. It smelled unpleasantly of goat.
    ‘Please,’ Rick begged in
desperation. ‘I’ll give you anything. Just let me go.’
    ‘You can start by telling me where
The Book of Death is.’
    ‘The Book of Death?’
    ‘That’s right. You had it this
morning. I saw you with it in the Ole Au Lait. Where is it now?’
    Rick swallowed hard. ‘I took it
back to the library,’ he spluttered as the grey beard brushed against his face.
    The Santa leaned down even
further, getting his face in close to take a good look at Rick to see if he was
telling the truth. The smell of stale booze was overwhelming as the monster
breathed over him before finally responding. ‘I went to the library already.
They said it was missing.’
    ‘I didn’t check it in with the
librarian. I just stuck it on the shelf in the Reference section.’
    ‘Why? Why not hand it in to the
librarian?’
    ‘I was returning it for my
friend Sanchez. He said he’d borrowed it without permission so I had to stick
it back on the shelf myself.’
    The Santa slapped Rick around
the face. ‘I don’t believe you!’ he snarled.
    ‘I can take you back there in
the morning and show you where I put