Hotel Sanguinaria

Chapter Eight

“Okay – talk me through it again.  What are you going to do?”

“Stay out of your way, keep my head down, don’t get killed.  I’m backup, after Jake, so there’s no reason for me to get involved unless something really, really bad happens.”

“You’re damn right, kid.  And even if something really, really bad happens, you’ve gotta be the one to assess the situation and make the call if it’s worth it.  God help you if you make the wrong call, ‘cause you sure as hell will end up knowing my thoughts on the matter.”

“Yes, Dad.”

“Good.”

Callie Westlake watched her dad turn and leave the room, her eyes unblinking until the door was shut behind him.  Then, she let out a slow breath, careful not to let him hear her, and closed her bright-blue eyes.  What a mess they were in.

Her dad had dragged them from Oregon to Louisiana on a hunt for something he referred to as Le Graal du Diable, the Devil’s Grail.  Claiming he’d found reference to it in an old French document, he’d explained to Callie and her brother Jake that the so-called ‘Devil’s Grail’ was a rare breed of vampire known as a ka, which left behind distinct traces when it moved from place to place: supposedly, its presence in a place could be detected by the ground feeling as though it were recently sun-warmed, even in the middle of the night; scorch marks on the floor, or a fine dusting of sand on the ground.  The thing was so-called because once it had stayed with monks in a French monastery, and when it had left many men had come in search of it, as knights after the Holy Grail.  Seeing the men so wildly driven to find the creature, the monks referred to it as the Devil’s Grail.  She’d no idea what the thing looked like, but her dad insisted it had been sighted here, in New Orleans: apparently, a contact he had in the city had called him, claiming to have found some sand that glowed softly, even in complete darkness.

When her dad had received a sample of this apparent ‘glowing sand’ he’d gone absolutely crazy over it, immediately demanding that they all packed what little they had and left immediately for New Orleans.  Although it seemed like a quick turnaround to most people – they’d arrived in Portland, Oregon just a few short days ago – Callie was no stranger to sudden, impulsive travel choices by her father that dragged her all around the world.  They’d landed in Louisiana that morning, and now, as evening drew near, her dad was keen to get her and her brother to come out with him on a mission – of sorts – to scour the city and understand the parts of it they could make use of and the parts of it that were of no interest to them.

Pushing her long red hair out of her face, Callie huffed out a breath and sat down on the battered, uncomfortable bed in the motel they were staying at.  She briefly wondered how many people had planned a rendezvous for the particular room she was inhabiting, how many of them had ended up in the very bed she was sat on – not to mention, how often the sheets were changed in a place like this.  She quickly put the thoughts from her head.  It wouldn’t do to dwell on something that was both disgusting and distracting when her dad was expecting her to be ready to go out hunting that night.  The hour she had remaining to check her kit and get ready suddenly seemed like way too long and miles too short at the same time.

Walking over to the small wardrobe in the corner, Callie looked down at the tiny suitcase that contained all her possessions in the world.  It was small enough to be hand luggage on a plane, and her dad had never let her forget that.

“The most important thing for you to remember is about luggage,” he’d told her when she’d first left her Florida home with him and her brother when she was ten.  “See, what you’ve gotta remember is that if it can’t stay with you at all times, that’s a risk.  If it’s out of your sight for one nanosecond, someone can take it.  You’ve gotta be able to keep it with you, even on airplanes, so don’t get greedy.  If you see something you want when we’re travelling, you’ve got two choices.  One: leave it, it’s not worth it.  Two: you get it.  This means you sacrifice something else.  That can be good and bad, okay?  It helps that you don’t get too attached to things.  Everything is material; everything burns or breaks.  Should you walk away from it, however, it teaches you that nothing – nothing – is worth more than this life we have.  Okay?  Nothing.  Don’t ever forget that, because mark my words, it’ll be the death of you.”