Phantasms and Vampires

Phantasms and Vampires

A Vampire of Manhattan Adventure

We’re too late, muttered Jimmy.

Suddenly, Drinan growled.

What? Jenna realized Drinan had seen something in the ashes.

Wordlessly, Drinan reached back to the takeout containers on the kitchen table, picked up a plastic spoon, and scooped it irreverently through the man-shaped ashes on the apartment floor. He held this before Jenna’s eyes. It was a hell of a time for a vampire sensory lesson, but Jenna focused on the contents of the spoon.

The gray powder she expected, but she also saw short, stout fibers. And she did recognize that smell, from years in Vermont. It took her only a moment to put it together. Wood, she said. These are ashes from a wood fire.

What? At Drinan’s confirming look, Jimmy breathed, He faked us out? Then where is the guy himself? He saw both Drinan’s and Jenna’s lips tighten. Yeah. And what’s happening to the women?

***

The Liars’ Party doles out justice and watches their backs, but crises still pop up on their radar. Jenna’s boss at Hanford & Bogie is being stalked by an entity with an ulterior motive. Sniffen’s sister is losing her battle with cancer. The dogs of Harlem actively recruit Jimmy… far too actively. Conroy begins tracing his penitential path that parallels Petray, the damaged priest. Drinan, unaccustomed to the strain of these worries and emotions, sets off land mines of his own. The happy ending is in sight, but they may have to kick some booty to achieve it!

Books by Linda Tiernan Kepner

THE VAMPIRE OF MANHATTAN SERIES

Loving the Vampire

978-1-63384-625-8, 1-63384-625-3 – eBook

978-1-63384-624-1, 1-63384-624-5 – Trade Paperback

Vale of Vampires

978-1-63384-627-2, 1-63384-627-X – eBook

978-1-63384-626-5, 1-63384-626-1 – Trade Paperback

Living With Vampires

978-1-63384-629-6, 1-63384-629-6 – eBook

978-1-63384-628-9, 1-63384-628-8 – Trade Paperback

Magicians and Vampires

978-1-63384-631-9 1-63384-631-8 – ebook

978-1-63384-630-2 1-63384-630-X – Trade Paperback

Phantasms and Vampires

978-1-63384-620-3 1-63384-620-2 – ebook

978-1-63384-621-0 1-63384-621-0 – Trade Paperback

Science Fiction and Teen Fantasy by Linda Tiernan Kepner

Play the Game

978-1-61720-442-5, 1-61720-442-0 – eBook

978-1-60459-481-2, 1-60459-481-0 – Trade Paperback

Planting Walnuts

978-1-61720-878-2, 1-61720-878-7 – eBook

978-1-61720-434-0, 1-61720-434-X – Trade Paperback

The Whisperwood Ordinaire

978-1-61720-879-9, 1-61720-879-5 – eBook

978-1-61720-432-6 1-61720-432-3 – Trade Paperback

The Life and Times of Griswald Grimm

978-1-63384-623-4 1-63384-623-7 – ebook

978-1-63384-622-7 1-63384-622-9 – Trade Paperback

Phantasms

and

Vampires

A Vampire of Manhattan Adventure

By Linda Tiernan Kepner

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 publisher. This book may not be reproduced, in whole or in part, without the written permission of the publisher, except short passages for the purpose of reviews.

Phantasms and Vampires

A Vampire of Manhattan Adventure

by Linda Tiernan Kepner

Copyright © 2017 by Linda Tiernan Kepner.

Please Help Fight Internet Piracy!

Scanning and uploading this novel to the internet without the publisher’s permission is not an act of flattery. It is an act of theft. It not only disrespects the author; it violates the author’s copyright and literally takes money from the author’s paycheck by distributing copies of this book for which the author gets no payment.

Phantasms and Vampires

Published by Onset Adventures, a division of Flying Chipmunk Publishing

162 Onset Road

Bennington, NH 03442

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-1-63384-621-0 1-63384-621-0 – Trade Paperback

978-1-63384-620-3 1-63384-620-2 – ebook

Cover credit: SelfPubBookCovers.com/Ravenborn

First Onset Adventures Trade-paperback edition: October 2017.

Notes and Acknowledgements

This is the last book in the Vampire of Manhattan adventure series. Most series have three or six books, but this series has five. It allowed me to wrap up their lives with happy endings, which one hardly expects in the vampire world. A sixth book itemizing Jimmy’s future experiences would only be depressing. (Even though he gets through it all right.)

As ever, I thank the NH Chapter of the RWA, the Monadnock Writers Group, and the Crimsonistas for helping me keep my nose to the grindstone. One Crimsonista (who writes as Morgan O’Neill, or Deborah O’Neill Cordes) sent me an inspiring photo that became the character irreverently referred to in this tale as Hunka Hunka Vampire Love.

It was pure coincidence that I was asked to provide charms at Fall In Love With New England 2017, and Jing acquired little bells to remind her of her promise. Thanks, Terry Kepner, for clamping over a hundred metal spring-clasps onto those bell charms for FILWNE. Terry (aka Darling Husband, iDesign Street) also completed the layout and formatting of this book, both electronic and hard-copy. Thank you, thank you.

While much of Good Hope Hospital and Hanford & Bogie Publishing are based on my real-life employment in similar institutions, any resemblance to real persons, living, dead, or undead, is unintended.

Thank you for appreciating these vampires, magicians, doctors, nurses, editors, and publishers. I hope your support returns to bless you tenfold.

Table of Contents

About This Book

Books by Linda Tiernan Kepner

Title Page

Copyright Page

Notes and Acknowledgements

ROUGH JUSTICE

CONROY’S JOURNEY

THE PERILS OF PLATTSBURGH

A FEW ANSWERS

RUNAWAY HOME

STRANGERS

CONSEQUENCES

SUPPORT SERVICES

SECURING THE EARTHWORKS

OLD BLOOD

THE KEYWORD

INTO THE UNKNOWN

CLEARING THE AETHER

Flying Chipmunk Publishing Catalog

CHAPTER 1

ROUGH JUSTICE

"A moment of your time, Drinan," she gritted.

Drinan led the way back to his office, and shut the door. You want a shot, or are you good?

"I’m good. I’ve got patients coming in, and so do you. Alcohol breath doesn’t inspire confidence in your surgeon. Mason threw herself into the guest chair. What is this shit about Lacie Unwin?"

"What did Sharon tell you?"

"Why don’t you just tell me, and forget what she said?"

"Because Sharon spoke truth. I don’t want to contradict her."

"Drinan. Mason shook a finger at him. I’m the peaceful one, okay? The next one to cross this corridor will be Beth, and she’ll be out for blood, I promise you."

"Shit, said Drinan scornfully, like I was scared of either of you."

"And she is very anti-violence toward women. Ass-kicking anti-violent."

"Frankly, so am I."

"P.K. sold those women to his pals!"

"Yes. He did."

"And nobody’s going to do anything? Where the hell are the cops when you need them?"

"I wasn’t a witness, Mason. I can’t file charges on their behalf. And only Lacie was raped. Not the kid, fortunately. Or you’d see some real ass-kicking from her mother."

"Is Lacie getting any therapy? Besides Sharon?"

"Yes."

"If that fumbling, idiotic Pakistani twerp comes within a mile of my office, I promise I will dismember him and hide the body," Mason threatened.

"Let me know and I’ll come cheer you on."

"Has Lacie reported this to the police?"

"No."

"Have you pushed her on it?"

"Mason, said Drinan patiently, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not a woman. I can’t push this one."

"I noticed, Mason admitted sourly. But I will push it. And you want me to, don’t you?"

"There’s a cop named Driscoll. He’s Homicide, but his hobby is handling complaints regarding Good Hope Hospital."

The youthful eye-surgeon stood. I’ve met him. He was around when you permabonded Newman’s office, before we knew that scumbag had killed his wife and disappeared with a bundle of hospital money. Which, as I recall, the hospital wouldn’t have known if you hadn’t bonded his desk shut, too, and they saw the papers when they pried it open. Mason’s mouth tightened. Got any surprises in store for P.K.?

Drinan shook his head. I’m the wrong gender.

"About time you admitted it. Mason scowled. The problem is, P.K. is too stupid to let the word of an American, or a cop, or a woman, sway him from his mean ass-kissing path. I don’t see where there’s a lot you can do, even if you were the right gender for it."

"Let me work on it, promised Drinan. We’ll see if we can’t channel some meaningful damage his way. As you said, Americans, cops, and women aren’t it."

Mason nodded, taking Drinan at his word, and charged out the door as she had charged in.

***

Franklin breathed a sigh of gratitude when Drinan and Cortland walked into the Emergency Room, dressed in scrubs and ready to work, on Friday afternoon. Heard you had the flu, Drinan.

I don’t think I did. But Conroy, Jimmy, and Jenna did, so I didn’t want to press my luck. Or ours. It was common hospital gossip that Adam Conroy, an out-of-towner, had been almost killed by a mugger, and dragged himself to Drinan’s office. Also according to gossip, Drinan had saved his life and taken him in as a house guest.

Cortland smiled at this. I was wondering, his own junior surgeon confessed. You seem fine to me.

I am. I just didn’t want to share the wealth in case I wasn’t. Decades of experience had taught Drinan what to say.

The luck of the draw, said Franklin. "You would be the one with immunity."

Drinan Surgical Associates—that is, Drinan and Cortland—worked the Good Hope Hospital Emergency Room every third weekend. The Chief of Surgery liked all his docs to keep up-to-date and active; nothing did that like a night on the E.R. floor. Drinan often took extra time, and subbed for other physicians. He liked E.R. duty.

Dr. Suvatri Narayan was also on duty tonight. Everyone liked the dark-eyed intern from India. But Drinan saw all their expressions dim a moment later, as P.K. Kuriostoi also entered the area. The gossip always flew thick and fast at Good Hope. By now, everyone knew that P.K. was a smarmy medical cheat, and poor Suvatri the miserable victim of a forthcoming arranged marriage to him. Franklin glanced at Drinan, but said nothing. The docs had already discussed the situation. Drinan, Chair of the hospital’s Medical Ethics Board, was hogtied by a diplomatic deal beyond their ken. The surgeon remained expressionless as he checked the equipment in the various emergency bays.

Franklin came into Bay 3. Testing out okay?

Yes. I’ll detach it later. I thought I remembered something odd about this one.

It’s the only one with two terminals.

I remember. I just tested both terminals on myself. They’re okay.

Franklin plainly wondered what was on Drinan’s mind. Well, Friday night being payday, we can expect a lot of intoxication and accidents. Looks like you’re ready. Who’s your scrub nurse tonight?

Hello, Dr. Franklin, said a beautiful, angelic voice straight from Heaven.

Hey! Lacie Unwin! Franklin greeted her cheerfully, and heard the annoying sound of a metal prep tray being dropped somewhere nearby. How are you? Haven’t seen you for a while. Don’t tell me you’re an Emergency nurse, too?

I’m well, thank you. Dr. Drinan said I could work with him tonight, and I could use the practice, Lacie replied. P.K. peered in the bay. Lacie smiled at him sweetly.

Stick with Drinan, then, said Franklin, since he offered you the practice. You’ll have Dr. Narayan, too, Drinan. Do you mind a full slate of newbies?

Not at all. Drinan smiled down at Lacie. They looked like movie stars, belying their reputations as the best surgeon and nurse in the city. Drinan, former hunky playboy, was now happily married, and stunning flower-child Lacie had acquired a boyfriend—Drinan’s new find, Conroy—that made her rapturous with joy. We’ll be fine.

Flashing lights had begun to reflect from the front entry. Okay, you’re up first.

Lacie was employed by the Visiting Nurses Association, and sometimes moonlighted at Good Hope Hospital as an on-demand med-surg floor nurse during a heavy census. She stuffed her cascading wavy blond hair under one of the unattractive surgical caps. Soon, she was prattling cheerfully to a patient while his meds kicked in, and Drinan set his arm.

Drinan’s favorite emergency nurse, Poteet, worked in tandem with Lacie or nudged young Dr. Narayan along. As their team got to speed, more ambulances arrived with the usual Friday-night casualties. Drinan heard Cortland snap, For Christ’s sake, P.K., hold that brace straight for me. Haven’t you done this before?

Yes, but not on a Friday night in such conditions I have not…

Well, if you’re going back to Pakistan, you damn well better practice your emergency procedures, fella. There are a lot of crises there, and you’ll need all your skills.

Yes, Doctor, I understand. P.K.’s replies had become reflex by now.

Another car accident with three victims, then a heart attack, asthma attack, broken arm, then a possible stroke. The teams kept working. It was well after midnight before they had their first breather. In the E.R. break room, Drinan sipped coffee while Lacie and Narayan sipped water. Lacie asked, I don’t know enough about your customs, Dr. Narayan. Is it okay for you to eat and drink with us?

When I am this thirsty and I am grateful for the water you brought me, certainly, Narayan laughed. Her laughter faded when she saw P.K. peer through the glass door.

Dr. Narayan. Drinan sipped coffee and returned her attention to him. You didn’t tell me you knew the Tremontozzis.

Those big, beautiful eyes focused on Drinan. You have met Tony Tremontozzi?

I operated on Big Tony a few years ago. Little Tony works on my car.

Narayan smiled and shook her head. It is true what they say, that it is such a small world, then. They are nice people, and good neighbors. And ‘Little Tony’—that is so funny. To me, he is ‘big’ also. He is my age, twenty-four years.

That kid’s pretty special. He has the nerve to argue with me about my car.

Narayan laughed. Tony fears nothing. But there was a sad light in her dark eyes.

It’s a special kind of bravery, Drinan said.

Poteet commented, You are fortunate to make such good friends in America, Dr. Narayan.

Drinan stood and left the room casually, as if he were taking a restroom break. He had fifteen minutes.

He returned to the Emergency Room just at the end of the break. They re-entered the fray as another emergency was announced, five men from a bar fight, trying to put the moves on the nurses and Dr. Narayan while they obeyed Drinan’s brisk orders.

Drinan, Narayan, and the nurses were almost finished when the curtain jerked back. P.K. stood there, wide-eyed. Dr. Narayan, I need you now.

We’re not finished here, Doctor, Drinan said sharply.

That is irrelevant. There has been a car accident to some very important people.

What the hell? said one of the brawlers. More important than us?

Yeah, what is this shit? another asked incredulously.

Doctor Kuriostoi, Drinan ordered, attend your patient, and get the hell out of my bay.

Now you’re talking, Doc, said the third brawler approvingly.

P.K. dug in his heels. No. Dr. Narayan must take care of these important people.

Doctor Kuriostoi. Drinan continued to mop blood from the brow of one patient. If you don’t leave my bay this instant, I am going to hurt you.

Not if I hurt him first, the fourth brawler offered.

I—I’d better go, said Dr. Narayan timidly.

You will do no such thing. Drinan set down the wipe. I’ll go with you, Kuriostoi, and heaven help you if you’ve brought me on a wild goose chase for your ‘important people.’

No, I need Dr. Narayan. It was a gross breach of etiquette, particularly in Asia, to contradict the senior surgeon. It is Nurub Ali, my important friend.

Oh, said a brawler, so we’re shit and your important friend is the big deal, huh?

Dr. Narayan clenched her jaw but obeyed the senior surgeon’s orders. Sit still, she told the brawler, and let me bandage your knuckles.

A swarthy, mustached man lay gasping on the gurney in Bay 3. He looked like any other crime boss Drinan had ever seen, and he had seen his share. Four other bleeding compatriots stood around, refusing help but looming nearby nonetheless. I have brought an even better assistant, P.K. announced, as if he had planned it.

Where is the girl? the bloody man on the gurney snapped. Fetch her here.

Drinan ignored him. Is this man a blood relative of yours, Dr. Kuriostoi?

No, Doctor.

All right, Kuriostoi, but he speaks your language. This is your case.

P.K. paled.

I will observe. Begin your evaluation, please.

Now the man on the gurney grew pale. What?

Dr. Kuriostoi will assist you. Drinan spoke in the tone of a physician introducing a patient to a strange doctor. How were you injured?

My driver braked suddenly when a big dog bounded before our automobile. I thought it was a wolf. We were on our way to the mosque, a meeting with friends. This was the nearest hospital.

What nationality are you?

We are immigrants—from Pakistan.

You are fortunate, said Dr. Drinan. You will be treated by one of your fellow-countrymen.

P.K. took a deep breath, and slipped on his gloves. I will tell you what needs to be done, and you will carry out my orders.

No, I will not. This is your case. I am here only to observe, Drinan repeated.

Lacie Unwin snapped open the bay curtains. How she had survived at all was a miracle. P.K. glanced at her anxiously, because she had yet to say anything about being kidnapped and raped by his associates; that penny was yet to drop. Since he knew he had turned the beautiful nurse over to his associates, P.K. had been flabbergasted—and, anticipating hospital tribunals to come, completely demoralized—to see her. Worse yet, one of his relative’s associates had obviously recognized her. A rare quiet moment had descended on the E.R. They were all standing by, ready to assist or observe. P.K.’s eyes rolled. He began to sweat visibly.

What’s the problem, Dr. Kuriostoi? demanded Franklin.

Dr. Franklin, set up the—I mean, Nurse, begin an intravenous for the patient.

Not without a preliminary evaluation, Doctor. Poteet, in her most reasonable voice, pointed out the obvious.

P.K. glanced at the transcription microphone poking out of the bay wall. Dr. Drinan, commence recording the evaluation.

No, Drinan repeated. I don’t speak the language. You must evaluate this patient. You’re on.

P.K. swallowed and spoke into a microphone. Patient is a fifty-three year old—

Dr. Narayan stepped forward, and hit a switch on the mouthpiece. First you must turn on the recorder, Doctor.

The bodyguards paled. God help him, one muttered.

In a deep, dangerous voice, Nurub Ali ordered, Girl, attend me. I am bleeding. I do not have time for these jokes.

Dr. Narayan met his gaze. I am prohibited from attending you. I am unqualified to help you because I have insufficient emergency-room experience.

That’s right. Franklin dealt himself in. I checked. In all the records where I expected to find Dr. Narayan’s signature, instead there is P.K. Kuriostoi’s signature. He has signed everything; she has signed nothing. That means he’s the more experienced physician, doesn’t it?

Apparently so, agreed Drinan.

All right, P.K., said Franklin cheerfully, this is your case.

Lacie Unwin closed the curtains.

Drinan moved quietly to the monitor. He found the one he had checked, and slipped Sensor Number Two on his own finger.

The sensor reacted precisely the way it should, to report a dead body. Alarms sounded. All hell broke loose.

The patient screamed, What is happening? What is happening?

P.K. screamed louder, to be heard over the alarms and monitor sirens. Flatline! Flatline! Help, help!

Lacie, who had remained nearby, threw open the curtains as most of the E.R. staff raced toward them, and stopped in confusion at the scene.

What is going on here? Franklin roared, over the cacophony of the monitoring equipment.

He is dying, the most important man in America! Help me save him! P.K. panicked completely, and grabbed at Franklin’s tunic. Franklin broke his grip, annoyed.

I will tell you what is going on here! Nurub Ali roared. I have a cut on the head from automobile glass and I am bleeding! And instead of a decent American doctor, you have given me this fool from my country, who cannot tell a dying man from a head cut!

"You brought him here, stated Drinan. You put him through medical school."

Yes! To take care of stupid Americans and make money, not to attend me! The monitors still screamed their hair-raising warnings. I want a real doctor. You or Narayan!

I can’t work on you, Nurub Ali. I recognize your name. You who cheated me out of an art purchase. It’s a conflict of interest. I’m out.

And I must refuse to touch you, said Dr. Narayan, because Dr. Kuriostoi just lied. You are his uncle. Since I am engaged to marry him—we are related.

No! screamed P.K.