Silver Bullets

The gun was just lying there, inviting like. Just me and the gun. In the back room. I thought I should do something. The problem was the bullets. Or should that be: the problem were the bullets? Doesn't matter now. The deed is done. Some deed. I'll start at the beginning, shall I? more sense that way.1

I'm Eddie Dove. I know. I keep thinking about changing the name, Anyway, I find people, I dun them for money, I'm a collector. A collector for other people. I'm a kind of enquiry agent, not quite a private eye but getting that way. It's a living. 2

Collecting debts is one thing, being a collector is another. I collect guns. I'm supposed to get licences and things from my friends the cops but they aren't that friendly so I don't bother them. When I'm on a job I don't carry but, then, I don't carry most days of the week. It's a very private hobby and I like to keep it that way. Where do I get them? They often pop up in my line of business. Never threatening to me, mind you. Wouldn 't do the job if it were like that. They kind of move into conversation. " 'Ere," a mark might say, "Know about guns do you?" And there you are.3

This latest one is a beauty. Some kind of Czech make, from Brno - is that still Czech, or is it something else, Slovakia, or Croatia, anyway this woman tells me such a story about it. 4

"Magic bullets," she says. 5

"What do you mean, magic bullets?" 6

"Vampires, she says darkly. 7

"Vampires," says I, "Don't be daft. They went out with the washing," and I laughs. 8

"You'll be sorry," she says, "Take it, but you'll be sorry."9

So I look vampires up on the net - that Wikipedia thing but it didn't illuminate me. I decide that I've seen Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee and they needed silver bullets to get rid of those half naked women with sharpened teeth. So the fact is I know as much as Wikipedia anyway.10

It's round about now when I starts to get these dreams. Never thought much about dreams and all that mumbo-jumbo but these are a bit real and very tiring. God, am I knackered afterwards. Always guns and magic bullets and hordes of these look-alike women with sharpened teeth. The guns work, once I've run in and out of old castle rooms to find a weapon, but then there's no Ammo and there's always one of these women left. Very fanciable and often the old boobs come out of the draperies and invite me into a bit of pillow burrowing and then I wake up with my head in my own pillow nearly suffocating. Must mean something. Probably means I'm a bit short on partners these days.11

But these dreams nag at me worse than my old woman before I gave her the heave-ho for pyschological damage and all that stuff. I tried the old vicar down at St Margaret's but he was not much use, He ended up saying, "Forgotten all that exorcism stuff, don't you know. Not much call for it these days. Have you tried the Romans?" Well, I hadn't and haven't tried the Romans - not since I learnt about the Jesuits and self-mortification and giving up sex.12

I'll have a look at the back issues of "The News of the World" that's the Sunday paper that's into covens, and black masses and fallen vicars and such. Don't you ever bother with that research business. What a bore. The papers are all microfilmed or some such and you can't find bugger all with the manky reading machine they give you. Anyway I did fall across this bloke in Sussex who swore he'd seen vampires and they had recruited him and he couldn't help nibbling little choirboys necks to test out his new teeth. His dentist said they were standard NHS and nothing vampire-like about them at all, so he got three years and out after twelve months and back in a parish because of the shortage of clergymen.13

I went down to St Ehelburgas in mid-Sussex and saw him. Called himself "Father" which seemed right enough as he had so many little boys. He pointed out the spot where he had first seen a vampire and I suppose it looked likely enough - round the back of the nave and down the steps to the boiler-house, a bit dark and dismal and just the spot a vampire might like. There was even an ancient stone coffin propped up against the wall. No point it being there that I could see, but there it was, and so heavy they'd need a JCB to move it so they just left it.14

I went back at night never telling the queer Father, didn't want him messing up my patch.15

It was that hot July, the one where they said it proved Global Warming. Just proved it was bloody hot I thought. But round the back of Ethelburga's in the dark under the big oak tree it was a bit chilly and I was glad I'd put my thermals on. She used to nag about thermals and I suppose the shafts must have gone home. Here I was shivering in them in an old churchyard. I had the pearl-handled gun ready for use but thought that was daft because I had no bullets, but I still had it ready.16

The noises woke me up. Down the boiler-house steps something stirred but it wasn't a vampire. It was teenage love in action although she did look a bit like a Peter Cushing vampire with her hair all flowing down her back and her slip, slip-slipping off the moving parts. I don't think they call them slips any more but you will know what I mean. My torch beam caught them entwined tighter than ivy round a tree trunk but they jumped apart quick enough. The lad, not much more than fifteen I would guess, came at me, "You dirty old sod," were the mildest of his words and I thought I'd better hope he trips over his pants. He did and I was back in the car and off up the Brighton Road.17

The vicar, or Father, came up trumps though. 18

He sent me this letter and said what I needed were some silver bullets from Silver GmBh, or somesuch, of Brno, Czechoslovakia. Just a brand name, he said and the firm had gone bust after after all the de-coupling, and reorganisation , and wars over there . So, really, the information was not much help anyway.19

Never have seen a vampire or teenage lovers since. Still collecting guns though20