Vale of Vampires

Vale of Vampires

A Vampire of Manhattan Adventure

by Linda Tiernan Kepner

Jenna dared to open one eye, very cautiously. The two fighting wolves were almost close enough to touch. She wouldn’t have dared, even if she knew for certain which one was Drinan. She lay still.

Slowly Jenna rolled her head in another direction. She saw a crowd of people-- no, vampires. Smith was still near Desdemona. They were watching the wolves, not intent on Jenna. She was too close to the action for comfort, though.

Then her heart leaped. Coming down another corridor, she saw a light. She opened both eyes.

It was Bill Sniffen, with torches, standing in the open hallway!

Bless him, he had his glasses on, and he saw her open eyes. Jenna flicked her hand. Bill never hesitated. He pitched a torch to her.

From a prone position, she made a leaping, running, jumping catch of a line drive. Jenna was on her feet, and moving. She headed straight for Benjamin Smith.

***

Life goes on at Good Hope Hospital and Hanford & Bogie Publishing. Smith has become the official physician of The Vampire of Manhattan. Drinan recovers from the bomb blast, but grudgingly acquires a mentor in Brooklyn. Sniffen gallops off to Canada after a hot story. Rosa resists being packed off to Italy. Jenna wrangles authors, editors, publishers, and the health issues of her last remaining family member, Jimmy.

Then Sniffen vanishes in Canada, and Jenna goes looking for him. During her travels, she meets a wise vampire hunter, a crafty Quebecois trapper and his wife, and a sophisticated manor lord. Will they help or hinder? And what will The Vampire of Manhattan do when Jenna also disappears? The jaunt to Canada promises to be a walk in the park. Central Park. After midnight. On a very bad night.

THE VAMPIRE OF MANHATTAN SERIES

Loving the Vampire

Vale of Vampires

Living with Vampires — Coming Soon!

Magicians and Vampires — Coming Soon!

VALE OF VAMPIRES

A Vampire of Manhattan novel

By Linda Tiernan Kepner

Published by Onset Adventures

A division of Flying Chipmunk Publishing

Bennington, NH

This is a work of fiction. All characters, events, and locations portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, events, or locations is purely coincidental, and in the imagination of the reader.

All Rights Reserved by the author. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the author, except short passages for the purpose of reviews.

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Vale of Vampires, by Linda Tiernan Kepner

Copyright © 2015 Linda Tiernan Kepner

ISBN:

978-1-63384-626-5 — 1-63384-626-1 — Trade paperback

978-1-63384-627-2 — 1-63384-627-X — eBook

Picture credit: SelfPubBookCovers.com/Bill

Published by Onset Adventures, a division of Flying Chipmunk Publishing, June 2015.

Smashwords Edition

Table of Contents

About this Book

Books by Linda Kepner

Title Page

Copyright Page

Acknowledgements

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Don’t miss Linda Tiernan Kepner’s third book in her exciting vampire series . . . .

Flying Chipmunk Publishing’s Catalog

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

Having been raised close to the border, myself, and knowing that being villainous is always more fun, I thought it was about time we had some worthwhile Canadian villains, here. Please remember that they are as imaginary as the Vermonters and the New Yorkers in this story. Any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or undead, is unintended and in some cases deplorable. The vale of vampires does not exist – to my knowledge.

Many thanks to those RWA PROs who said pack away your inner editor and just write. Also, as always, thanks to Terry Kepner, who helped me scout out locales in midtown Manhattan and remain upbeat during our book publicity efforts (sometimes easier said than done). Thanks also to the Lisas and Lindas, my friends.

CHAPTER 1

Jenna sat up late, in her old easy chair, working. Jimmy had gone to bed. The television was on low. Rosa had gone home. Jenna rubbed her eyes, set down the manuscript she was reading, and stood. She walked over to the old couch, lay down on it, and watched the television news. She began to drift off to sleep.

In her half-asleep state, she heard the noise again, tic-tic-tic-tic. It stepped through Jimmy’s open door, stopped for a few moments, then came out again. This time, she realized what it was. It was the claws of a four-legged animal, walking across her floor. Jenna murmured sleepily, There’s coffee in the pot, if you want some.

The tic-tic-tic-tic came around the edge of the couch. A large black wolf looked down into her face. Jenna smiled, still half-asleep. She reached out and stroked the dark fur. The wolf let her stroke his head and ears, ducking his head as if he enjoyed the sensation. Then he left her for the kitchen, tic-tic-tic-tic. The next sound Jenna heard was the sound of a mug being taken from the cupboard, and coffee being poured.

Aden Drinan appeared above her, as silent as the wolf, coffee cup in hand. He wore scrub pants, sneakers, and a tee shirt. He lifted her feet to sit on the couch, and placed her feet on his lap after he sat down. Silently, together, they watched the nightly news.

***

Can we talk? Jenna McArdle asked, setting her papers down beside the rickety old lamp. It was classic second-hand Vermont, very out of place here in New York City. Rosa Rizzatano looked up from the computer terminal in the corner of the McArdles’ living room curiously. Don’t get mad, but your mother asked me to. She has it in her head that I can persuade you to go to Italy to take care of your sick aunt and hunt for a husband.

Rosa swore and set down her coffee mug in disgust. For a moment, her beautiful dark eyes flashed. Is that why they sent me off the other night? In answer to her nod, Rosa frowned. I was sure it was so they could have a little heart-to-heart with you about when you were going to marry that handsome young doctor. They’ve been discussing you a lot lately. Again, Rosa grimaced. I suppose it was to point out to me that ‘the young woman she should have-a the husband.’ Rosa imitated her Italian mother’s accent perfectly.

Jenna grinned. Seriously, though, don’t you want to go to Italy? It sounds like they’re advertising a free expense-paid trip for you if you’re willing.

Not to take care of an old lady I never met who only speaks Italian, Rosa said glumly. I’d have her and Inigo to tend to.

They didn’t mention your baby, Jenna admitted. Inigo is getting to be a sharp cookie, for his age. They didn’t say whether you were supposed to take him with you or leave him behind.

What they want to do, I think, said Rosa flatly, is send me over as Antonio’s unmarried sister, get me in good with the family back there, find me a husband, marry me off, and then tell him I have a child. Or else say nothing and bring him up as Mike’s little brother.

Oh, poop, Rosa, that’s no good.

You understand that. They don’t.

They must realize you had nine months to think it over. Your decisions were made by the time Inigo entered the world, Jenna said reasonably. I can’t say I’d do the same in your place, but I’m not Rosa Rizzatano. Couldn’t be, anyway. Can’t speak Italian. And besides, Jenna added to herself, I’m busy dealing with vampires. And vampire chasers.

They don’t understand that kind of humor, you see? Or that logic. Besides, Rosa concluded, we’re on the second book. How can I quit now?

They asked me if I was well enough off, Jenna mused. Now, I see, they meant, to afford a typist while you were gone. Jenna shook her head. I know they don’t understand the work, but there are times you and I don’t, either. Certainly there are times I’d be completely at sea without your help. On the other hand, I wish you’d give their offer a look– just a look. I don’t know the details, I admit. I’d hate to see you block out the chance to have a real vacation in your family’s native country. Just promise me you’ll give it a look.

All right, Rosa said grudgingly, I will, I promise. Now. Do you have that next set of pages ready for me?

***

Queen Elizabeth Hotel.

Hello, Jenna told the telephone. Frère Tetras, please, a guest. I don’t have the room number.

There was a long pause. I’m sorry, we don’t have a guest by that name.

Well, perhaps you can help me. He was there at least three days ago. He told a friend of mine to send a telegram there to reach him. It’s urgent that I get in touch with either Frère Tetras or William Sniffen.

Again Jenna waited, a very long time. She wondered if they forgot her. Miss? I’m sorry, we don’t have anyone registered here by either name.

That’s very strange. Do you take telegram messages for people who are not staying in the hotel? I actually read my friend’s wire. It said reply to the Queen Elizabeth.

Just a moment. Let me ask around.

When a voice came back, it was not a man’s voice, but a woman’s. Miss, this is Eileen. Can I help you?

Hello, Eileen. I need to trace either Frère Tetras or William Sniffen, and I understand they were guests. It’s important I find them, and this is the only address I have. I’m calling from New York.

Yes, I was on the desk. Frère Tetras made a reservation for a room three, four days ago, I remember. But it was a cancellation.

A cancellation!

Yes, canceled by telephone in the evening. So your friend couldn’t have met him here. Have you tried the churches? The frère might have been staying with them.

Yes, I’ll try it. Thank you. Jenna hung up, frowning. She dialed the telephone number on the business card she held.

Achin Publications.

Elsie Bingham, please. Jenna McArdle returning her call.

Elsie Bingham was not sympathetic. She had started dealing with Bill Sniffen in his pre-Reformation days, and it had permanently soured her outlook on his life and his attitude. Don’t even say it. You can’t find him.

Then I won’t say it.

"Jenna, I’ve risked a lot on him. When I say I want him signing autographs at Center Street, I want him signing autographs at Center Street. And that is tomorrow, Jenna, tomorrow."

I understand. I’m still looking. Apparently he went to Montreal and vanished.

If he ever comes back from Montreal, after doing this to me, I’ll make him wish he vanished, for good. Keep looking. Jenna hung up. She sighed and dialed again.

Hello.

Hello, Marilyn. Have any more of those dreams lately?

No. Had any more of those feelings? the executive editor of Hanford & Bogie Publishing (Night Thrills, Fantasy & Fiction, Bogie’s Bogles, etc.) asked.

A big one. Sniffen was supposed to contact me today to tell me where he’s gone.

And he hasn’t.

He’s vanished. The hotel where the wire came from said that his contact didn’t even stay there. I think he’s in trouble.

That’s very strange. I suspect you’re right. We all read his telegram. Well, what can I do?

What do you know about Elsie Bingham?

Enough. Marilyn’s voice was hard. That’s Bill’s editor, is it?

Yes, and he’s in trouble with her. The book comes out tomorrow, and she scheduled him a signing on the same day. Of course, Bill’s not here, and the fit’s hit the shan. Are you and she on good speaking terms?

Good enough. Marilyn was thinking. Contrary to popular belief, one does not usually schedule a major event for an unknown author on release day. One usually gives it a few days to distribute first. I can probably play on that. I take it you’d like me to buy Bill some time.

I realize I’ll owe you a quart of my heart’s blood, but yes, I do.

What will you do in the meantime?

Look for Bill. I can’t imagine how I can afford to go to Canada after him, but I may have to. I think he’s in real trouble, Marilyn.

If you don’t show up in three days, then I start calling people.

I’ll be back in touch as soon as I have some battle plans, Jenna promised. Goodbye.

***

Sandy Easton, the medical secretary, had patients waiting in the little office when Dr. Fletcher burst in, enraged. Sandy tapped the intercom button quickly, one-two-three-four-five.

Where’s Drinan? Fletcher roared.

Drinan’s office door snapped open, and he was there, a handful at the best of times. A good-looking, muscular six-footer in hospital scrubs, Drinan filled the entryway to the office suite’s inner corridor, ready to fight. He made sense of the disturbance and relaxed his stance. There had been a patient in his office; the woman’s puzzled face was also turned toward the ruckus. Rachel, his R.N., had appeared from the lab; discreetly she set a hypodermic back inside the lab door.

Dr. Fletcher’s quick temper had flared out of control. "How dare you rule against me on an ethics panel– you!"

Fletcher, Drinan said quietly, this is not the time or place to discuss it. He kept his tone very low and commonplace.

"It wouldn’t be anywhere you didn’t want it! Fletcher roared. It’s never the time and place to discuss things you don’t want to discuss! Goddamn you, your behavior makes people bomb you and you have the nerve to chair a panel condemning me!"

Miller put me on that review panel as a physician and you were reviewed as a physician. Drinan kept his voice even. If you want to discuss it with me, I’d be glad to, but not when you’re in this state, Fletcher. You aren’t thinking what you’re saying. Have your secretary contact Sandy, and we can find a time when we both can talk. But don’t stand in my waiting room screaming.

The middle-aged physician put a rough rein on his temper and breathed, Goddamn you, Drinan, I promise you, you’ll pay for this. You can’t blackball me from the hospital staff and get away with it. I will make you sorry you ever crossed me.

Fletcher, said Drinan, in that same neutral tone, if you don’t get out of my waiting room this instant, I’m going to hurt you.

Fletcher glared, spun and marched out. Sandy relaxed. Sorry to rout you out like that, chief, but I didn’t know what to expect.

He was snorting fire, Drinan agreed detachedly. Do you know his secretary’s name?

Sure.

Call her, and make the arrangements I suggested. If he yells at me, he’ll at least get it out of his system. My shoulders are broad enough to take it.

If he doesn’t take a scalpel and slit your throat, muttered Rachel, a little too loudly.

Drinan’s face was a mask. He’s upset, and should be.

One of the patients waiting there– an old man– asked timidly, What did he do?

Drinan smiled and told an outright lie. He got caught out having financial dealings with a company that’s a conflict of interest for him.

Oh, for heaven’s sake! said his elderly wife. That’s all? I thought the way he went on, that it was something serious.

He lost thousands of dollars and his wife left him. That’s enough to make anyone a little touchy. Drinan smiled slightly, returned to his patient, and shut the door. Rachel and Sandy exchanged knowing looks and went back to their respective tasks.

Neither was surprised when Drinan called them into his private office at the end of the day. Don’t say anything about this, you two, he said. You’ve been around enough middle-aged men to know there’s a certain phase they go through. Give Dr. Fletcher the benefit of the doubt.

Rachel objected. My heart stops whenever Sandy rings five, and she’s always right.

Sandy objected. You have an appointment with him in fifteen minutes. I was planning to stay. Either Rachel does, or I do.

What the hell–? Do I look like I need a keeper? the surgeon’s brown eyes widened incredulously.

You came in limping Monday morning, Rachel accused, and Dr. Miller is on your case again.

You don’t need Joachim Fletcher making trouble, Sandy concurred.

Please and thank you, said Drinan, offended, I was taking care of myself long before either of you were voting age, and I haven’t lost my touch. Despite herself, Rachel smiled, since it was plain to the most casual observer that she was old enough to be Drinan’s mother. It is Friday night, and I have no intention of staying here long, myself. You both should be out partying hearty. You will not stay around here past five o’clock. Do you understand?

Yes, sir, said both women grudgingly. They left the office. Sandy thought she saw a gentle smile on his face as she closed his office door.

***

Jenna had contacted the RCMP, the Ville de Montreal police, and U.S. Border Patrol, and was trying to dig up a phone number for a consulate or embassy. So far, all she had were negatives. Sniffen had not been in an accident or reported as missing or lost. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, he was still wandering incognito among the three million inhabitants of Montreal. Jenna wondered if she should change her story of an important meeting to a medical emergency, then thought better of it. They might ask what emergency, and she would not have a story ready. Better to stick to the half-truth she knew.

Glumly, Jenna thought about expanding her search to include the Quebec Provincial Police. There was no proof that Sniffen was even in Montreal. She reached this point when the telephone rang, and she picked it up. The news couldn’t get much worse.

Jenna was wrong. Jenna, said Rosa’s voice, I’ve decided to go to Italy.

***

Drinan did not try to calm him. The surgeon merely said his piece. Fletcher, my conduct isn’t the issue here. Yours is.

What I do in my off hours is my own business! he yelled.

Yes, I agree. When you’re not doing it with your own women patients. Drinan held up a warning hand. Far be it for me to—

"Far be it for you, screwing everything female that walks through the door, to pass judgment on me! You have the goddamn nerve to—"

Fletcher, it sounds trite, coming from me, Drinan interrupted, "but I do believe marriage is a sacred covenant, and I’ve never, never messed with a married woman. I’ve never screwed a patient. If I saw a woman I was interested in, I told her to go to another doctor and I told her why. Can you