Everyone Dies in the End #78

Cindy

The door opened on a short flight of wooden steps, well-polished and reflecting the gleaming radiance of a chandelier hung from a high ceiling. The steps lead to a large anteroom. Lots of tough guys. Cindy counted six. The toughs greeted the two guards enthusiastically. Turns out the guards names were Vinnie and Tony. Italian no doubt. Not a surprise, given their olive skin and dark hair.

The greetings didn’t extend to Ramzke, who didn’t seem to notice, didn’t seem to care. After a moment, Cindy noticed that one of the toughs, unlike the others, stood in the corner of the room. A slim, tall, blond, pale man who nodded  not at the boisterous guards, but at Ramzke. Not a word was exchanged, but she knew none was needed. The blonde man was one of Ramzke’s kind.

“Where is he?” Ramzke spoke to a middle-aged, well-dressed man who seemed to be in charge of the others. The man was seated in a plush chair behind what had probably been a receptionist’s desk in days gone by, cleaning immaculate finger nails with a large knife. He smiled, revealing teeth that had likely made an orthodontist wealthy. He pointed at her with the tip of the knife.

“That the babe?”

Ramzke ignored the question and repeated his own. “Where’s Vader?”

The man gave her a look, a long look from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. She felt as if her clothes were made of Saran Wrap. She stared back, unflinching. He gestured with his knife at a dark wooden door set in the wall of the room. “Stage. It’s Saturday night, where did you think he would be?”

Ramzke grabbed Cindy’s elbow lightly and spoke to the man. “We’ll watch.” He guided her to the door.

The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

Ramzke’s words echoed in her head. The meaning was clear. Ramzke felt they had a mutual enemy, one that they could battle together. What was unclear was the timing. Why now? Why travel hundreds of miles to kidnap her, and then ask for her help? And if she did help him, what would become of her then? She was powerful; she knew that now. Her newfound abilities amazed her, but Ramzke and his kind had preyed on humans for centuries. Despite her bravado, doubt haunted her. Did she want to ally with vampires? Her mother had her told her the stories since she had been old enough to understand; told her that these beings existed, they were real, to believe that and to fear. They were heartless, soulless killers, so her mom said, and so Cindy had believed, and still believed, but she had learned much in the past several days. Evil wasn’t an absolute. Often its definition depended on who was labeling the deed. One being’s evil was another’s survival. This Vader somehow enslaved vampires. On the surface that might be a good thing, but the enslavement was for his gain, not to stop the slaughter of humans by feeding vampires. The pens—humans captured and held, helpless, fed to vampires. From where Cindy stood, from where her finger pointed that was evil.

            The door opened on a dusky corridor, and a short set of carpeted steps that led up to a landing of polished wood. Soft light spilled onto the landing from an open door. Ramzke led her to the door and they stepped through onto the altar of Cathedral Basilica of Saints Peter and Paul.