Doctor Frankenstein Page 3

  “So, Kent, who is this man? Not a lover of yours… Still you don’t want Lewis to know about it. That… Someone from the government?” It made sense to him, but Liam understood that Lewis used to be connected to a vampire.

  Kent gasped, which sort of gave him away. Emily even looked over at her father then, seeming puzzled. Lewis, for his portion of things sat up straighter.

  “Kent? What…”

  The pressure was enough that Kent let his face tighten, finally nodding.

  “It isn’t… he approached me a few months ago. We’re working on a book. About vampires. He knew that you used to service some of them, so I’ve been collecting information for him. Donald Brogen. He’s just an author, he has several books out.”

  That was probably both a thing that was valid enough and that shouldn’t be allowed. Not as non-fiction. Not that Liam was concerned about that kind of thing. The problem was that the vampires would be. Possibly with fatal results. Not just for Kent.

  A thing that Lewis understood, hearing the facts. He stood up suddenly and half yelled. Going from mildly concerned to freaked out in less than three seconds.

  “What the fuck, Kent? You can’t… They’ll literally kill us! All of us. I don’t know what to do.” He looked over at Liam then, staring. As if he expected him to jump up and perform an act of violence upon him instantly.

  Instead he shrugged.

  “We’ll have to see about this. I don’t suppose we could get an interview with this man? Donald Brogen? Perhaps he’ll let the project go, when he finds out that the vampires don’t want people to know about them?” That sounded unlikely, but the truth was that Liam hadn’t studied the other man yet.

  Lewis went on as if Liam hadn’t said anything at all.

  “Did you take money from him? If we sold Sondra out… That’s how she’ll take it, too. I agreed not to talk about her or her people. I told you, so this is my fault. We… We might have to run. We should make arrangements…” He looked at Emily then and closed his eyes. “Maybe my mother will take her? I don’t think Sondra will blame a child for what we did. So stupid.” He tightened up, then after a while, let himself relax. “We should draw up wills.”

  The words were sensible, though Liam waved them away. The man thought they were going to die, both he and his husband. That was probably what would be happening. Instead of arguing that it was safe, he pointed at the man on the screen again.

  “Let me see if I can discuss this with your friend here. Also, it seems that he isn’t planning to kidnap your daughter. That has to be a good thing.” A book being written wasn’t great, but could be prevented. Even doing something as minor as breaking the man’s computer or having it hacked would probably do that for them. Humans didn’t have good enough memories to recapture work, if all the copies were removed from existence. Not that it was his call.

  If Sondra could have been contacted, he would have done it right then. Really, he would have had Lewis do it, so he could beg for his life. Instead they had time. It took effort, since Kent seemed to assume that Liam was planning to harm the author, but he managed to get his phone number and address. That meant he was able to leave the half-panicked men, planning to go and see if the address he’d been given was real or not.

  The dwelling was a nice drive away and an actual house, with a short fence made of woven silver wire and a yard that was mainly on a hill. The house itself was an unattractive blue gray with white trim. The curtain moved when he parked, showing that there was someone inside. Instead of sitting and watching, he climbed out of the SUV and walked directly up to the front door, knocking politely, with a gentle smile on his face.

  It was still kind of surprising when someone came to the door. It was the man from the pictures on Lewis’s phone. He wasn’t dressed up, wearing jeans and a white t-shirt, with red letters on the front. He cracked the door open and stared at Liam, his voice coming fast.

  “Can I help you?”

  “Donald Brogen?”

  The man nodded, responding to his name.

  “Yes. What’s this about?”

  Liam didn’t have an actual reason to be there, in particular. Not past the story that Kent had told him. It could be wrong.

  “A book that you’re working on, possibly. About vampires?”

  The man gave him a puzzled look, then nodded.

  “I’m doing that. How did you hear about it? I haven’t told anyone about that yet.”

  Still standing, with the door to the house open, heat pouring out toward him, Liam shrugged.

  “From Kent Sinclair. His husband was worried that their daughter was being stalked by a strange man. You. He called a friend for help, which had me brought in. I managed to get Kent to tell us about you. So, if you’re having an affair with him, you might want to tell me now.” It was a bit accusatory, and acting as if vampires had very little to do with it.

  Interestingly, the man shook his head and sighed.

  “Nah. Kent’s cool and all, but I’m not playing for that team. He’s gotten some nice information though. Do you want to come in? That’s the rule right? You have to invite the undead into your home or they can’t do it?”

  It wasn’t a real thing at all. Liam had seen enough of that kind to get that. He nodded anyway. It was what the old stories talked about.

  “I guess? I’m not a vampire, so it wouldn’t matter, really. I won’t need long. My… Client, is concerned that an ex-employee of hers might have spoken out of turn. There’s a non-disclosure agreement in play. It could lead to a rather large lawsuit, if a book were to be published using information from him. Yes, he’s a third party, but as a vampire lifestyler, my client isn’t thrilled with the idea of her fictional life being spread to the public.”

  The man blinked at him and then let his eyebrows go up.

  “It was presented to me as being real. With people that die for the day and who only drink blood.”

  Liam nodded.

  “That’s the act, of course. It… The concept is similar to trans persons. Even if it’s not a biological fact, those who feel they’re vampires choose to live that way and wish others to address them as such. Lewis Sinclair did donate blood for such people, in the past. He was paid for the work and signed the contracts of his own free will. For his husband to breech that won’t undo the fact the Lewis told him in the first place. It’s understandable but not enough to allow that information to be used. You can of course, write whatever you wish. You didn’t sign any contracts. It would just be best, for other people, if you didn’t use that source, directly.”

  The man looked annoyed first, then angry. As if he were considering having a fight with Liam, just inside of the front room of his own house. It wasn’t the instant, incoherent anger that might have been there, however. Then, this man wasn’t closed minded. Indeed, the issue was that he wasn’t that way at all. Donald Brogen was too open that way, really. He was told that vampires, a thing that his entire life had told him couldn’t exist, might be valid and he was willing to put actual work into the topic.

  He almost growled, if not exactly at Liam.

  “I’ve put three months into this already. That’s a lot of work, just to throw it away. I don’t want my source to be hurt and his husband being sued would do that. At the same time, I don’t want to lose all my work. Or to write a book about make believe game players. That… It isn’t what Lewis told Kent. I have some recordings of their conversations. It sounds real, when he talks about it.”

  There was no mental scrambling, just a nod on Liam’s part.

  “Yes. A lot of the vampire lifestyle people are very convincing. Not all of them. My client truly lives it, however. I’m not even certain if Mr. Sinclair, either of them, is aware that she really isn’t one of those. Even if that kind of thing is fantasy. I could suggest that you meet with her? That would take travel on your part. I don’t doubt that you’d see her as being human. I can’t call until tonight. As I mentioned, she’s rather dedicated.”

  The
man looked a bit defeated for a moment, then nodded.

  “That… I probably should, just to see if I can salvage the book. You’re her lawyer?”

  He got to tilt his head then, since even if he’d been telling the man lies, none of those were truly illegal.

  “I’m a lawyer. At the moment I was brought into this simply to check out what was happening on the ground here. I wasn’t even hired on, just asked to look into things, in case Emily was in danger from a child predator. I work with my client in other capacities, hence referring to her that way. If she were to sue, it would be someone else doing the work on the case. I specialize in criminal law. Really, I just happened to be in the area, so she asked me to drop by and check on her friend. So you aren’t even being threatened legally at this point. It’s simply what will have to happen, if we can’t work something out. At least for Lew. You aren’t in trouble that way and won’t be, even if you publish. It would… Not be good for a young family though, which I think you can see. I should pass your information to my client? She’ll only call after dark.” Which was true, as it turned out.

  All of it was, more or less.

  The man nodded.

  “Yeah. That would be great, actually. The book isn’t going to be as impactful, if the vampires aren’t real. I suppose I could present it as a look into alternative ways of living… That doesn’t explain the powers that Kent was told about. Mind control, super strength and speed.”

  Looking at the man, his bald head very round, Liam simply smiled.

  “You should ask about that, if you get a meeting with my client. May I have your contact information for that purpose? I’ll be calling her later today, to talk about you, anyway.” Then the vampire would be able to handle things as she saw fit. Liam could see that simply talking to the man might be enough. He’d write a book about fake vampires and then leave her and her people alone.

  He might even be compelled to simply forget about the whole thing. There were options, given what Sondra could bring to bear on the topic. Getting the correct data to pass along, which he already had in his head as it turned out, Liam shook hands with the man and left, suddenly at loose ends. At least if he was supposed to stay in the city.

  It didn’t seem needed, after a moment’s thought, so he drove south, keeping in motion for no particular reason. Not knowing what he was supposed to be doing or looking for. He headed toward the ocean, since he’d never seen that kind of thing, and arrived there about two hours after he left Portland. There was snow on the way, in the hills but the beach itself was clear, if slightly damp, when he parked and walked to the edge of the water.

  The thing was vast and incredibly interesting to watch. The waves had a rhythm to them, with every seventh one, on average, coming closer to him. That pattern wasn’t perfect though. On occasion it would be the eighth or possibly the sixth that drove foam and the scent of life closer to him. That, the way the whole thing smelled was incredible. Not nice, truly, just loud in a way that nothing else he’d ever experienced had ever been. Every bit of his skin was soaking in the scent of a million dead things. The salt layered itself upon him, becoming a thing he could taste.

  The blue and green of the water was different than he would have expected as well. Even the sand under him added to the experience. There was stone that had been ground to a fine texture, as well as bits of shell and even glass of the kind that humans made. It looked gray in the distance, but close up it was a thousand different colors. There was a richness to it that impressed him in a fashion that had never taken place before. It was, he thought, close to awe. He’d seen pictures of such things before, of course. This was better. As if the real experience was more valuable to him than simply learning about a thing. No facts or figures were being fed to him in the moment, he wasn’t seeing video of the scene, either.

  It was real, which was teaching him things without even trying to do it.

  He just stood there, watching everything around him until the sun, looking pink in the sky, went away. Then, after half an hour standing in the darkness, the wind hitting him in the face, Liam moved away from the water and went back to the SUV. It wasn’t far away, being in a small parking lot as it was.

  Dialing Sondra, he waited. Either for an answer or to leave a message. Of interest the woman herself picked up. It happened rapidly, after only a few rings.

  “Hello?”

  “This is Liam Frankenstein. I seem to have broken the case. Kent, the husband, found out about you from stories, from Lew. An author has been working with him on a book about that information. Kent had claimed that the man found him to ask about the topic, so there may be another leak to look into here. I told him, Donald Brogen the writer, that Lewis has a non-disclosure contract with you, and will be sued if any information gotten through Kent is used in the work. I also got his contact information, and made a suggestion that you might be open to doing an interview, as a vampire Lifestyler. A human who lives as one of the undead. You’re very dedicated to that story, by the way, if it comes up. He’d have to fly to you for that, of course. You won’t travel during the day. Obviously.”

  She made a soft sound that seemed nearly amused.

  “So that he can be made to vanish?”

  He shrugged, then smiled, even if he meant neither thing.

  “Or you could simply compel him not to do the book? Or even convince him that you’re not undead and merely play at it and then help him with his book. Add in enough misinformation and that would be the same as him not writing it at all.” His thin and reedy voice managed to sound calm at least.

  Then, Liam wasn’t the one who was going to die or have to kill over the whole matter.

  Sondra made a bit of noise, then spoke again, suddenly.

  “I’ll see what might be done that way. Any human we can leave alive is one less sign that we exist. I’ll take your ideas into consideration. Now, that data on this annoying writer?” She wrote as he gave that, the pen on paper indicating that a ball point was being used. Liam had several of those himself.

  They were the best, since they didn’t break easily or run out of ink too quickly. It wasn’t what he preferred for drawing, however. For that he liked charcoal pencils. It was a thing that he kept working on, even though he wasn’t getting better as fast with that skill as he did with most others. He was, he thought, doing all right that way. He couldn’t truly approach photographs or moving images yet, however. There were artists who could do that, so it was a matter of him lacking skill, instead of him simply having an impractical expectation. For a while he’d wondered if that were the issue. It wasn’t. Really, he needed to take classes on that kind of thing.

  There was still much in the world that he needed to learn.

  His phone pressed to his face, he listened to Sondra write for a bit. When she spoke again, she sounded decently pleased.

  “Now! I hear the ocean in the background. Are you at the coast? That sounds like an excellent adventure for you. You should consider staying for a few days. Perhaps take in the sights and see about meeting some people? I’ve already taken a bite from your trip. When do you plan to return?”

  He didn't know exactly.

  “I was told to be gone for at least two weeks. That probably means that attacks are expected. Which… Well, I could get a room here. I haven’t done that yet. I don’t know how to meet people, in particular. I should look that up, as a skill.”

  The words got a laugh from the woman.

  “That sounds lovely. You do well, meeting others, however. I’ll connect with you if I have need or if things happen on the ground here. We’ll talk soon.”

  “Talk to you then, Sondra. Bye.”

  Tapping quickly, Liam used his phone to find a room that he could rent in the area, searching the reviews for the best place according to humans who had stayed there, which, interestingly enough, was the building directly to his right. Not that there weren’t forty such places inside a close driving distance, all with reviews that were close to as goo
d. This one was merely close by the beach and had reasonable rates, as well as tidy rooms. The building near him was older, with a sign that said it was The Anchorage. He drove over, parking directly outside the office. It was only about five in the evening, so the woman inside smiled at him when he walked in, instead of having to wonder if he was some kind of bad person, showing up late at night.

  He did that back, even if she stopped after a bit, to stare at his eyes. She didn’t seem upset by him though, just noticing he was unusual seeming. She looked to be about thirty or a little older, and was nicely enough appointed, as far as looks went.

  “Hi, honey, are you looking for a room?”

  It was a strange thing to call him, not being his name or a term of endearment that had been used for him before. One that seemed well meant and not too dismissive. Perhaps a bit. Her gaze lingered on his face, flickering to his eyes several times, as if she were working hard not to stare, but really wanted to. Then she took in his nice suit, examining the cut and style as if it meant something to her.

  “I am, indeed, looking for a room. Do you have anything like that available?”

  She nodded.

  “A hundred a night, for the master suite. That’s empty right now. We also have less expensive rooms. We’ll need I.D.” She looked uneasy about that, but took his wallet easily enough, and typed his information in from his driver’s license. She glanced at his other identification, and blinked as she read it, several times.

  The picture on the I.D. matched well enough.

  She handed it back, her fingers lingering on his palm as she did it. That had to have been done on purpose. As if she meant something by doing it.

  “Liam. That’s a nice name, isn’t it? Now, you want a room. I’m supposed to upsell, or the boss will get mad at me… So the master suite? It has two rooms, with a door between them, and a sitting room. Three televisions, and some really nice windows. That would be a hundred for each room and another fifty for the sitting room. The view really is great though and we have room service. I could be there at, oh, call it eight, when my shift is over?” She was teasing, he realized, but he nodded, since playing into that kind of thing was often funny.