Undead as a Doornail

by William F Aicher

  I follow the sound of her voice. Down a short hallway, past a darkened bathroom, and push open the door at the end of the hall.

  Sofi’s lying there on her king-sized, four-poster bed wearing a white baby doll dress and the amulet. The lights are low, and she’s puffing away on her vaporizer. The smoke is a blackened hue of crimson in the candlelight.

  “I assume you are not here to take me up on my offer?” she asks through the cloud of smoke.

  I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t prepared for this. In all our planning, this just ended with a big battle. No time for talk. Just passion, action, and death. And now that I’m here, I’m stuck. A thousand words want to pour from my lips.

  Stop it.

  You’re better than this.

  Is this what Cami would want?

  There’s still time to do the right thing.

  I love you.

  “You’re too late, Phoenix. You cannot save them.” She pats the bed, inviting me to join her. “Just like it was too late for Cami. And Nancy.” She takes another puff. “Just like you are too late to save me.”

  She’s right. I was too late. She’s right, and she knows it. Just like like she knows how much that guilt burns me up inside.

  But am I too late for her? The truth rips at my heart as I take in the contours of her face, once smooth and delicate, now sharp and wicked under the influence of her vampire condition.

  Once upon a time, I dreamed of kissing that girl.

  But now I can’t decide whether I want to cry or just shoot her stupid, twisted vampire heart. My hand moves for my gun. She notices the movement, and in a flash, she’s out of bed and inches from my face.

  “But it’s not too late for you to join me,” she says. The gentle sweetness of her breath is gone, replaced by the hot stench of vampire halitosis and Crimson Bliss vapor. “Or, I could just make you.” Her lips curl back and reveal her pointed fangs.

  As I stare into her dead eyes, I remember how they glimmered that day on the bridge at our fairytale castle. I remember how we almost kissed. My hand wraps around the grip of my gun, and my finger finds the trigger. I slowly raise it until the barrel is pressed firmly against her left breast. My other hand goes for the amulet.

  “Phoenix, Phoenix, Phoenix.” She starts to laugh. “You and I both know you can’t kill a vampire with a bullet.”

  “No, not a bullet,” I say, as I close my eyes, lean forward and press my lips to hers. “But this is a cherry bomb, baby.”

  I pull the trigger, and she explodes into the biggest mess of blood and guts I’ve ever seen.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Fifteen minutes. That’s about how long we figured we’d have until the police arrived. Wolfgang’s long gone and there’s no way in hell I’m fighting my way out of this mess.

  I go to Sofi’s closet, pull the door shut, and slip the amulet into my pocket.

  Then, in the pitch-black dark, I pop a cherry bomb in my brain.

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Three weeks since Munich and not a word from Rousseau or Wolfgang. Not even an appointment follow-up reminder from Doctor Dmitri. Ripley’s home and from the way she’s been living on my lap, I’m pretty sure she’s happy I’m out of a job.

  Three days after I popped back home from that cherry bomb ticket to the Eitherspace Express, I checked my bank account. The house is paid for, so I don’t have to pay a mortgage. But the macaroni and cheese was gone, and the milk had gone bad. Plus, Ripley was in bad need of some tuna.

  My final paycheck should have shown up in my account, so I’d have enough to get by for at least another week or two. But, being the responsible adult I am, I thought it best to wrap my head around my finances so I could budget appropriately.

  It turns out there was an extra twenty thousand bucks in there. I guess being a monster hunter pays alright.

  I tried calling Rousseau. Part to thank her, and part to ask her for a job. But the line had been disconnected.

  I went back to listening to the scanner. Praying something would come across that felt somehow not right. But monster attacks in Mississippi aren’t all that common. And they don’t pay the bills.

  The pains in my gut are still here, and I ran out of the pills from my German doctor friend a week ago. Tried fighting through it, thinking I could manage the hurt. Tried switching to ibuprofen but it didn’t help a bit. The only solution I’ve found is to randomly break into houses through Eitherspace and search their medicine cabinets. So far, I’ve only hit pay dirt once, and that score only resulted in enough to last a few days. I could try going to a doctor, see if he can get me something … but my insurance expired the second Asher fired me.

  I pick up my phone and scroll through my call history. As I’m about to hit dial on my ex-boss’s number and beg him to give me my job back, the phone rings.

  Unknown Caller from Cairo.

  “Hello?” I answer.

  “Oh, excellent, you’re there. I thought I might have lost your number.”

  My heart skips a beat as I recognize Rousseau’s voice. “Nope, still here. What’s up?”

  “First I wanted to say thank you for your work in Munich. You did excellent work.” Rousseau’s voice is hurried, breathless. “But I have to ask you something, and I need an answer quickly.”

  “Anything. What can I help you with?”

  “Well… I… we… we were wondering. What do you know about werewolves?”

  ✽✽✽

  Phoenix Bones will return in

  EVERY BULLET HAS A SILVER LINING

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