Cressida tossed the case containing the break-down rifle into the trunk of her rented gray Nissan Altima, along with her balaclava. She jumped into the driver's seat and drove away from the neighborhood adjacent to the pub, driving down backstreets and through neighborhoods in order to create a circuitous route, ensuring that anyone who may have been following her, mortal or not, would have been skillfully evaded. She pulled to the curbside next to one of the reservoirs on Mount Tabor, pulled her cell phone from one of her jacket pockets and dialed a number. She waited patiently as the phone rang.
"Yes?" The voice on the other side said.
"Yeah, this is Cressida. That problem I told you about earlier, well, it's worse."
"How so? Please explain."
"I tried to take out Campbell tonight and his brother intervened."
"His brother?"
"Yes, Santa Muerte, his brother. Scott Campbell, the goofiest vampire I've ever met."
There was a brief silence on the other side. "This complicates things."
"No shit. What do we do now? I'm not a vampire slayer!"
"You take no action until I have had a chance to consider how best to proceed. Comprende?"
"Okay, fine. Then what do I do for now?"
"You wait for my instructions. That is what you do."
"Fine, fine, I'll hold off on killing Douglas Campbell for now. But I'm on the clock, so my time will be paid for, even if I'm doing nothing. Okay?"
"Very well. I will contact you when a course of action has been decided."
The call ended. Cressida sighed. She wasn't looking forward to doing nothing, even if she was still going to be paid for the trouble.
*
The Santa Muerte was disturbed by the news. He had heard the name Scott Campbell before, but never before thought that the 'Redeemed One' of vampiric prophecy could at all be related to such a dishonorable thief as Douglas Campbell, let alone wish to protect him. This did indeed complicate things. On the other hand, it piqued the Santa Muerte's interest: he was interested in the long-awaited vampire deliverer, and wished to meet him. And more, he wanted to know why this 'chosen one' would stoop to defending such a worthless human as Doug Campbell. He believed that Doug Campbell could well be his key to meeting the promised one. And if the prophecies were true, then perhaps Scott Campbell could help deliver him from his bondage, the debt of honor he owed to the House of Calderon. The thought appealed to him, especially now, disgusted as he was by the current heads of that old and formerly distinguished family. When the House of Calderon was younger and more honorable, it was almost a pleasure for the Santa Muerte; now that it had devolved into a gang of drug dealers, the Santa Muerte was displeased. However, there was nothing he could do about it. 'Bondage' was the correct term, a bond of honor twisted into a bond of slavery. His curse, among many such curses.
He knew he could not have Doug Campbell killed. Not yet, anyway. The American, as dishonorable and conniving as he was, had to live for now. The Santa Muerte made his own call to the man to whom he was bound by honor.
Don Ramon Calderon was up fairly late, as if expecting the call. He was seated behind his old pine desk, an open bottle of mescal in front of him, checking some figures on his desktop computer (both numeric figures, and female figures. His wife knew of Ramon's appetites, but she figured that his attentions were best focused away from her, as she didn't particularly care for her husband anyway). The call came to his cellphone, and of course he recognized the caller ID. He figured that this must be important.
"Santa Muerte! What is it, my friend?" Calderon said.
"Regarding the brigand known as Douglas Campbell, I would entreaty you to stay your hand and not have him killed, not for now, at least."
Don Calderon was most exasperated by this turn of events. The Santa Muerte had questioned his judgment in these matters before, but not when it came to this thief and embezzler Campbell. Why the sudden change? "All right, you do not wish me to kill this man, who we agreed deserved to die. Why do you wish me to spare his life now?"
"I am not asking you not to kill him, I am simply asking you not to kill him now. I wish to speak with him, and there are other concerns I would seek to address with him."
"Oh? And what concerns are these?"
"He is being protected by a vampire."
Don Calderon rubbed his temple. "So, you say that this scum Campbell has a vampire as a guardian? I will need to contract a vampire slayer now, I suppose!"
"No, please don't do that. This vampire is of particular interest to me."
"And why is that?"
"He may well be one attested to in vampiric prophecy. I have a strong interest in prophetic literature, you know, and this particular prophecy is certainly relevant to my situation."
Don Calderon rolled his eyes. "Santa Muerte, I grow tired of you second guessing my decisions in these matters. Campbell has to die. You know this."
"I am not saying he doesn't. But, forgive me, sometime your decisions should be second guessed."
"Yes? You think this? You are the Santa Muerte, the Holy Death! It is your job to slay all those who oppose the House of Calderon! But you consistently question that job. For instance, that federal judge in Saltillo. You hesitated when I told you what must be done!"
"I do not kill women, let alone entire families!"
"Which is why I had to send some mercenaries to accomplish this task. It wasn't as dramatic as it would have been, but the message was sent. No judge or prosecutor will again threaten the security of the Calderon cartel."
"It was dishonorable."
"I do not give two shits for your sense of honor. You serve me. You serve the House of Calderon. Remember this. Now, as to the matter of Douglas Campbell, if you are able to bring him back alive, you are welcome to do so. But since I know your hesitance in these matters, I made certain that I had a contractor ready to do the job, and now that we know where Campbell is, the contractor will find him and kill him. I am sorry, but either way, Campbell is dead. If you can't do it, my other contractor will."
"It's Morimoto, isn't it?"
"You are correct. Morimoto will not hesitate. He will do what must be done. That is all."
Don Calderon ended the call and slammed the cellphone down on the desk. "That bastard. And again, he questions my authority. Were you able to understand any of that conversation, Mr. Gibson?"
Lounging in an equipale near the fireplace across the room from the aged pine desk was a large, muscular man with short black hair, sunglasses, and stubble, wearing an expensive gray sport jacket over a black t-shirt and sipping from a glass of mescal. "I do understand Spanish," the man said, in an Australian accent, "and I have no idea why you are so reliant on that supernatural servant of yours."
"The Santa Muerte is bound by oath of honor to the house of Calderon. He is a figure of much fear. He is spoken of in hushed tones. The more superstitious among us are terrified of him. No mortal man has looked upon him and lived. It is that reputation that has kept the enemies of the house of Calderon at bay."
The large Australian rose from his seat. "Smoke and mirrors. A parlor trick to strike fear into the hearts of the gullible. It is you they should be afraid of, not some leftover from a Hollywood backlot."
"But the Santa Muerte is the real thing! I know this! I have seen him kill, with the fangs! It's just that he is selective in his tastes."
"Yes, most vampires are not as selective. And that is what your Santa Muerte is – a vampire. Just a vampire."
Calderon snorted. "Just a vampire, senor? Just a vampire? Vampires are immortal killing machines – or at least, are supposed to be. They have capabilities well beyond those of mortal men."
"And yet, they can be killed. I know this. I have done it."
"You? How?"
The Australian reached under his jacket to the small of his back, and pulled out an engraved, nickel-plated 1911 pistol with scrimshawed ivory grips. The emblem on the grips was a Gothic-style cross with a skull in the center. He placed the pistol on the desk before Don Calderon. "Here."
"A pistol? Forgive me, but no bullet can kill a vampire."
"You're wrong. This is loaded with a special kind of ammunition called warheads. They were invented in the 1800's by a fellow named Van Helsing. They're specifically designed for killing vampires. Needless to say, they're very hard to come by, and expensive when you find them. They're currently manufactured by a shadowy organization known as Ministry, and they are rather stingy in their distribution. But this will get the job done. Say the word, and your Santa Muerte returns to the realm of myth and legend."
"Can you get me some of these?"
"Sorry, they're a trade secret. But you let me take care of your 'Holy Death', and you won't need them anyway."
"Not yet. He is of use to me. In any event, it doesn't matter. I take it you are familiar with Morimoto?"
"Masahiro Morimoto. A grand master of the art of ninjutsu, and one of the deadliest men alive. A bit overkill for one man, but since this Campbell is being protected by a vampire, I think the job could be very well done."
"Indeed. It is always good to have a backup, no?"
The Australian took the bottle of mescal from Don Calderon's desk and poured himself another shot. "Indeed it is."
He then downed the shot, worm and all.
*
Cressida did not have to wait long before her cellphone rang again. She grabbed it out of her pocket and answered. "That was quick."
"I have changed my mind regarding Douglas Campbell," The Santa Muerte said. "Do not kill him. Leave that for me. However, I would have you apprehend Campbell, and escort him to my estate – alive."
"Let me get this straight: you want me to kidnap him and get him back across the border into Mexico? Seriously?"
"That is what I wish."
"That's a tall order!"
"I appreciate that, and it is an order made much taller by the fact that Calderon has contracted Morimoto to kill Douglas Campbell."
"Wait. Calderon contracted Morimoto? I thought Calderon went through you to contract his wet work."
"I have disappointed Calderon previously, and so he thought it wise to employ a fallback just in case I failed."
"Oh, so, what I'm hearing is that you went against your master's orders?"
"Whatever my reasons are, they are none of your concern. Just make sure that Campbell is not killed, and deliver him to me alive."
"Fine, but this job just got a whole lot harder. Somehow I've got to beat Morimoto and his crew to Campbell. I may be a succubus, but I sure don't look forward to taking on a bunch of ninjas."