Chapter 8

The man in the dark suit stopped by the squad, nervously wiping the perspiration off his forehead with the back of his hand and ignoring the crisply starched white handkerchief displayed prominently in his breast pocket. He clutched Johnny's arm with a talon like hand; the paramedic was barely able to suppress the grimace of disgust as he looked at the glistening hand holding him place.

"Did you place the call, sir? Could you tell us what the problem is?" He queried, twisting his upper body to toss his helmet onto the seat. When he rotated back around the man's face was a mere inch away from his own. Startled, John tried to step back and simply managed to trap himself against the opened squad door. His eyes opened wide as he stared in helpless fascination at the man's opened mouth; were those fangs? Man, he really wished he had taken seconds of that garlic laden breakfast casserole that someone had concocted on C shift, probably Charlie Wilson.

"Johnny?" His partner's curious voice shattered the taut moment and the tight grip on his arm disappeared as the man dropped his hand and turned away.

Shuddering, and blowing out his vampire repelling breath a second too late to judge its effectiveness, Gage slipped out of the suddenly claustrophobic space. He slammed the door shut far harder than necessary, trying to shake off the morbid feeling that was slithering about him. He was going to let Marco and Chet have it when they got back to the station for firing up that business again. For Pete's sake, how did vampires even enter into his imagination? Everyone knew they couldn't go out in the daylight, or they would dissolve into a screaming mound of ashes.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Johnny grabbed the bio-phone with his left hand and the trauma box with his right and followed his partner. He looked back over his shoulder towards the engine; Mike Stoker lifted a hand to acknowledge the brooding look but didn't move from his relaxed but attentive stance by the shiny chrome of the engine's bumper. The paramedic rotated his head back around and increased his pace, trying to catch up with the rest of the crew without making it too obvious. He wondered vaguely if Mike had ever tried shaving using the overly polished bumper as his mirror. What about vampires then? Did they shave? Of course not, how could they? They couldn't see their reflections in mirrors, or was that only humans that couldn't see that? After all, you never saw a vampire with facial hair…..imagine that. A vamp with a beard!

Almost to the slightly forbidding doors, Johnny stumbled as he caught sight of the two stone angels that flanked the entrance to the funeral home. Almost as tall as him, the grey figures held out beseeching arms and seemed to be watching his clumsy movements with cold, shifting eyes. Their wings were partly unfurled behind them, making the statues almost as wide as they were tall and giving the impression that they were poised for flight. These were not curly haired cherubs flitting about trying to shoot arrows of love into posteriors; no, these looked like sentries guarding the entrance to a tomb to keep people out.

"Or keep people in," Gage mused darkly, trying to slow his breathing down before he hyperventilated himself into an unconscious state. He really, really was going to have it out with his so called "friends" for adding fuel to his already wildly imaginative state! He forced his eyes away from the bulging, hypnotic orbs of the very unwelcoming sculptures and bumped hard with his hip into the door, realizing a second too late that they pulled outward. His lips drawn tight over the word that tried to escape, he backpedaled and grabbed the handle with two fingers. He couldn't resist a parting shot at the angels**. "Sorry, ladies, I gave at the office."

He burst through the door and stopped abruptly as five heads swiveled in his direction. He reluctantly forced his own eyes away from the questioning stare of his captain and zoned in on the cadaver like figure of the manager. He was glad both of his hands were gripping the handles of the boxes; otherwise he was sure he would have smacked himself in the head for being such an idiot. It was time to push the morbid thoughts back into the ridiculous box and focus in on the rescue at hand, whatever that might be, since he had apparently missed the reason for them being here.

Boots sinking into the thickly plied carpet, Gage followed the group towards a plain, unmarked door at the end of the wide hallway, glancing in doorways as he passed them. Aside from the soothing, sleep inducing music wafting around them that reminded him of the elevators at Rampart, the place was reminiscent of a luxurious hotel lobby. Of course the caskets on display in that last room he had just passed wouldn't exactly be standard accommodations in a normal hotel, unless of course that hotel was located in Transylvania.

He gulped and increased his pace, catching up to Chet just as he entered the unmarked door. Chet glanced back at him, a muscle in his jaw twitching and his eyes bearing a haunted look.

"Is it just me, or does this place give you the creeps?" He whispered, jerking his head towards the group descending the cement staircase.

Johnny just nodded, not trusting his voice to come out in his normal range; it would probably be more like a squeak. He shot his own look around the stairwell, which was very stark in comparison to the area they had just left. Cement, cement, and more grey cement was basically the decorating theme here, he observed as they thumped downwards. He slid a shoulder on the wall, all the way down the echoing stairs, for support both physical and mental; they came to the landing and followed the men through a metal door.

It felt like going from a blast furnace into a meat locker as they found themselves in a dull, dim hallway. The muted, pleasant music from upstairs was replaced by an annoying hum from fluorescent lights strung overhead that did nothing to alleviate the gloomy, dank atmosphere. John shivered, wishing he had on his blue jacket to combat the hair rising chill enveloping him. Marco had dropped back and now both linemen were flanking him as they traversed the wide space, passing a freight elevator and then a pair of wide doors that opened onto a garage. He got a good glimpse of a shiny, black hearse; he resolutely slid his eyes past and stopped in front of another door that the three men in front of them had just entered.

"Guys," he warned softly. They were standing so close to him that he was unable to move forward any further; their turnout clad shoulders were effectively holding him in place.

"Be careful, Johnny," Marco cautioned in an equally low voice and stepped back, his hand going up to touch the crucifix around his neck. Gage managed to repress the ominous cloud that threatened to overtake him and used his foot to push open the door. He half dragged Kelly through the door with him as the stubborn Irishman hadn't budged from his protective position; they both had to turn their bodies sideways to fit, boxes bumping legs as they piled through.

The sight that greeted them wasn't supernatural or unusual in any way. Except for the sheet shrouded body that occupied a table in the dim shadows against the wall, the scene was almost comforting in its familiarity. A patient that needed assistance and the anxious onlookers hovering nearby; of course in this instance it was only the gaunt, black suited man and the engine crew excluding the engineer.

Johnny moved quickly to his partner's side to assist in aiding a young woman who was seated on a low, rolling stool. She was wearing a voluminous dress that effectively concealed her body shape along with what appeared to be a white lab coat. She lifted her head from her hands as he crouched down by her side and flashed him a sweet but embarrassed smile.

"Really guys, I'm ok, I just fainted and Poppa freaked out."

"Poppa?" Roy queried, shooting a look in the direction of the table as if expecting the still figure to rise up and walk.

"The manager and owner of this groovy joint, my daddy, he's very protective of me. See, I was just doing the makeup on our, ah, customer over there, and the smell of the embalming fluid made me light headed." She hunched over her knees and added in a tiny voice, "I'm pregnant and Poppa doesn't know yet."

Her head shot back up and she whispered an entreaty. "Please don't tell him that, not yet anyway…"

Roy nodded and flashed his unusually tight lipped partner a glance. Johnny nodded, confirming Roy's guess that the lady was well over eighteen years of age.

"No problem, Miss. Let's just finish checking you out," Roy said softly, and laid a gentle but restraining hand on her arm to prevent her from rising. She conceded and sat quietly while they finished their checks and contacted the hospital. Johnny was engrossed in writing down the information and finishing up with Mike Morton on the phone; he didn't notice the girl suddenly turn the admiring glance she was shooting at him into a look of amazement, disbelief, and horror.

She shot to her feet, her mouth opened wide in an "O" of surprise. The clatter of the stool that fell behind her got everyone's attention, including the object of her now pointing finger.

Johnny scowled, not bothering to hide his annoyance as he hung up the phone. The expression quickly morphed into one of incredulity as he realized there was no way Chet or Marco could have set this little drama up with the pregnant woman; they had entered the room as the same time as him. He rose slowly to his feet, dropping the green pen onto the surface of the bio-phone with a clink. The notebook he had been scribbling in followed the path of the pen and landed on his foot; he ignored both and turned to look behind him, fists half raised in a defensive pose.

The girl was pointing to a spot above his head but he could see nothing unusual above or beyond where he was standing. A tremor ran through him as he felt something warm rush over him but the sensation dissipated as quickly as it had occurred. When he swung back around, the young lady had dropped her hand and was now using it to clutch DeSoto's arm with a firm grip. Johnny had expected to see her cowering in fear or revulsion; she was beaming at him with a smile so wide and bright he was pretty sure he was going to go blind. And there was "Poppa" about two feet behind her, doing his own beaming at HER with his pointy yellow fangs, only his sickly grin was all about pride.

Gage let out a whoosh of air from behind clenched teeth, not realizing that he had been holding his breath. He surveyed the frozen scene in front of him, noting with trepidation Captain Stanley standing next to Poppa. Their leader's arms were folded across his chest in a stance Johnny recognized instantly; it was the "what the hell is going on here" pose they all knew so well. And his stalwart defenders were bunched shoulder to shoulder about two feet away from the bio-phone, their relaxed postures not indicative of the frantic movements he had seen, out of the corner of his eye, from them only seconds before.

Good old dependable Roy, on the other hand, had already sprung into action with his usual unflappable composure. He had Poppa's daughter already situated on the now upright stool and was crouched to the side of her, asking her questions. What kind of questions, John wasn't sure, but hopefully he was getting to the bottom of whatever hallucinations she was experiencing….

He sighed softly, and hunkered down to pick up the items he had dropped. He closed up the orange box, very aware of and purposefully ignoring for a few seconds the activity now going on around him. The footfalls of the now moving linemen were almost identical in the steadfast, measured thump of their boots against bare cement as they walked towards the exit; he could easily discern the captain's confident stride heading towards him. He rose to his feet and forced himself to raise his head and check the progress Roy was making with the girl.

She was now standing, looking at him with coquettish, fluttering eyelashes. She was still talking to his partner, who was wearing a look that Johnny could only describe as skepticism laced with amusement. There had been a lot of that going on for the last several days, and unfortunately he appeared to be the center of all the unwanted attention.

"Miss LeRue ok, John?" Captain Stanley had ended his five pace journey inches away from him, his raised eyebrows and the ever present crossed arms the only indication that he had more questions to ask but would rein in his patience until they were back at the barn.

"Ah, yes sir, she's fine," Johnny quickly answered, not about to betray patient confidentiality when the patient's father was circling around them like a vulture waiting a chance to feast. "The embalming fluid, the smell, made her light headed, maybe not enough ventilation in here…."

"Uh huh." The captain's two worded acknowledgement was dubious, and the medic had a disturbing vision of himself being stretched on some kind of medieval torture rack, with Stanley applying hot pokers to the soles of his feet and ordering him to tell the truth…..but for some reason he was wearing his bunker pants and rubber boots, so he was forced to simply endure the noxious smell of the melting footwear. Funny way to torture a guy…..

He switched his gaze to the other side of the rectangular shaped room, studiously studying the turned off lighting suspended over the cadaver table while he worked on putting his absurd thoughts to bed. He could see that Roy and the young lady had finally finished their discussion; DeSoto had a half smile playing on his lips and suddenly Miss LeRue was on her feet and barreling towards him faster than someone should be who had just passed out. He threw up his hands and braced himself just in time as she slammed into him, wrapping her arms around him and laying her head upon his chest.

"What…?" He choked out, grimacing as her head smashed his badge into his chest; surely she had to be feeling that? Her octopus arms tightened around him even further and he grunted in discomfort, shooting a helpless look at Roy and then at his captain. They were both standing there grinning like idiots, exactly the way he was feeling. He sensed but did not hear someone come up behind him and knew without turning his head that Poppa LeRue was the one breathing down, or on, his neck.

"Poppa!" She exclaimed, throwing her head up and quite accurately impacting Johnny's chin. His head snapped up and back; he staggered backwards and the emaciated man steadied him with two bony hands and held him in place with ease. Now trapped firmly between the LeRue family, Gage took a steadying breath before trying to extricate himself from the filling in the human sandwich as professionally as he could.

"Poppa, did you see her? Johnny's spirit? Did you feel her, Johnny, when she passed through you?" The girl stepped backwards, thankfully, but she now had one of his hands wrapped between both of hers and was inexplicably tugging at him.

"No, no Jeanette, you know I cannot see them, only sense them. Please release Mr. Gage, dear, I believe you are making him most uncomfortable."

That was an understatement, Johnny mused, feeling a flush warm his neck and then crawl upwards at both Jeanette's odd words and her familiarity. At least dear old dad had finally stepped in, both literally and figuratively, even though he really was standing too close to him again. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing up and shouting "too close, too close!" even as his arm felt like it was being pulled from its socket as he remained stubbornly in one place, refusing to slide across the slick, cement surface.

Seconds later Jeanette finally dropped his hand and he sidled sideways, heading towards the safety of his captain and partner; although, he really wasn't sure about the security emanating from those two right now. It looked suspiciously like they were about to break into laughter at any moment. At least Roy had made a feeble attempt by moving one step closer to him….. Like that was really going to help him with a sun loving vampire and a spirit seeing chick.

"You okay there, Johnny? You look a little, ah, flustered?" Roy asked, doing a remarkable job of keeping his face expressionless.

"I'm fine, just fine," he replied sulkily, resisting the urge to ask questions. That would come later, in the safety of their truck. He jerked his head towards the door, signifying his desire to flee from the room, and pointedly picked up the black and the orange boxes. "Can we just…?"

"Sure, we're done here, Miss LeRue needs to go up and get some fresh air." Roy picked up the oxygen and lightly touched the young lady on the arm, urging her to precede him. Captain Stanley was already at the door, holding it open with one hand and gripping the bio-phone in the other, having relieved his paramedic of it. He waited patiently while the daughter ran up to her father, whispered quite a few words in one his jutting out ears, and then slipped out. Roy followed her, with John close on his heels.

The stifling and frigid atmosphere of the room they had just left gave way to the equally freezing environment of the hallway. Gage strode briskly down the echoing space, taking in his bleak surroundings with one eye and keeping the other on his intended target – the back of DeSoto's head as he disappeared into the stairwell. He entered the well-lit, enclosed square and had one foot planted firmly on the first step when the owner's deep voice brought him to a reluctant halt.

"Mr. Gage…"

"Yes, Mr. LeRue?" He turned part ways to look at the odd man; the clunk of footsteps disappeared as Roy left the stairs and vanished within the sanctuary of the lavishly appointed hallway. The slow click of the plain door closing reverberated throughout their enclosed space and Johnny involuntarily clenched his teeth. His curiosity was warring with his strong desire to do his own exiting as fast as he could.

"My daughter, Jeanette, really wanted to tell you herself, but I felt it best if she took your advice and got some fresh air. She said that there is a very evil, perhaps vengeance seeking, spirit trying to "take you over"; I felt the presence myself when she vacated the room. Jeanette asks you to be very careful."

"Err, right, thanks…" he acknowledged the advice with a short nod and started up the cold concrete, feeling the trailing brush of now clammy fingers on his shoulder. He really hoped that was just meant to be a comforting pat from the concerned father and nothing else…..

~TBC~

A/N ** If you've ever watched Dr. Who…the creepiest villains on this show, in my opinion, are the Weeping Angels. So visualize those "Angels" as Johnny's "sentries"….