by J. P. Rice
The vampires dashed from side to side, using their lightning quick speed to dodge the gunfire. It was almost as if they were hopping from one spot to the next, leaving a blur like a dark streak of paint. Timson knocked his top hat off and raced across the room, leaving a blurry trail in his path.
Glenda nailed Timson in the chest with a barrage of bullets, staggering him backward. The vampire stopped and looked down at his bloody torso. He took fifteen unsteady steps toward Glenda before collapsing to the ground.
I scooted the chair back and stared down at the bonds on my ankles. Studying the wards cast over the chains, I started to notice a pattern of defense.
Using mental magic, I manipulated the air in the room to form a solid object. I shaped it into a hand with the index finger extended and lowered it so that it hovered just above the bonds. The defense code, an ever-moving series of letters and numbers, breezed by and I waited for a compromised spot.
4, 5, 6, 7, 9. There it was. I used my mind to jam the extended finger into the coding and break the spell. Once the defense ward was broken and had dissolved into thin air, I emitted as much strength as possible into the opaque hand. I forced the fingers to open up and maneuvered the hand so that I could pull the chains away from my ankles, not against them.
After projecting a considerable amount of power into the hand, I pulled back. Instead of the chains breaking away and busting into a thousand pieces, they dug into the chair’s legs. Glenda kept up her assault of bullets and her target practice session with the vampires was providing me with time to escape.
As I leaned ahead trying to get a good view, the chair fell forward and the high back above my head got stuck on the top of the table, leaving my hands tied behind the chair, and me dangling painfully. It put tremendous pressure on my shoulders and collarbone.
I could still hear bullets firing and Glenda’s voice screaming over the gunshots. “Roydell, you piece of shit. Quit hiding. That fancy blue and purple suit needs a little red on it,” she commented casually while chuckling.
I saw the barrel of the gun out of my peripheral and cringed as Glenda opened fire. My eardrums felt like they were going to burst as she unloaded on Roydell. His body flopped around as the bullets peppered him. The barrel of the Barrett disappeared, and Glenda yelled, “That’s what I thought, bitch.”
There was nothing I could do but wait and hope Glenda wouldn’t run out of bullets. My hands were bound securely. A defense ward was probably set to make the bonds unbreakable. I couldn’t see the ward to stop it, putting me in an insanely vulnerable position.
I repositioned my magical hand on the chains and gave them a good yank. The hard steel broke the bottoms of the legs, the chair shifted around and I thought I was going to fall on my face. The uneven chair stabilized itself but now leaned to the left. Moving my legs around, I realized that my ankles were still surrounded by chains but weren’t bound to the chair.
A symphony of bullets drew closer to me and then stopped abruptly. That could be good or bad. Glenda could have wasted all the vamps in the room. Or the vampires had taken out Glenda. Considering she had stormed the place, the vamps had little time to launch a counter attack. Although time had slowed down after Glenda showed up, the entire fire storm had only taken a minute or two.
The irksome silence continued until it was broken by a blade scraping against a sheath. Why was someone close to me taking out a knife? No more bullet eruptions. They’d gotten to Glenda. I was fucked.
I felt something touching my hand. Something cold. The blade of a knife. Two seconds later, I fell face first into the carpet. I rolled onto my side, and despite the shooting stars in my vision, I saw Roydell’s body under the table, riddled with bullets and with plumes of smoke coming from the holes.
I jumped up, hit my head on the bottom of the table and almost fell down again. Reaching up, I grabbed the table for balance and rose to my feet. As I tried to shake out of the chains, I looked around, but my blurry vision couldn’t focus on anything. Using my finger and thumb, I rubbed my eyelids trying to gain some relief.
A figure came into focus. A big, thick, dark figure. A figure chugging a Pabst Blue Ribbon tall boy. An unlikely savior.
Glenda Gold finished the beer, fired the can against the wall and belched loudly to tie it all together. “You ready to get out of here?”
The corners of my lips slowly curled into a smile. “Abso—fucking—lutely.” I reached down and freed my ankles from the heavy chains.
“Stay behind me.” She put a new magazine in place and locked it in with the butt of her palm. She gave me a thumbs up and headed for the exit.
I crouched down and followed her out the door and down the hallway. She seemed to be familiar with the layout so I didn’t shout directions. We turned right at the end of the hallway, entering the front lobby area.
“Oh shit,” cried Glenda. Gunshots erupted. Not semi-automatic gunshots.
I could hear the bullets whizzing by and expected Glenda to dodge the assault, but she remained perfectly still. She was smart. Under stressful situations, most people were terrible shots, even well-trained police officers. If she’d moved, it would be more dangerous than standing pat.
One person certainly appreciated the indomitable strength it took to stare into a hail of bullets. That would be the mortal man standing behind her.
My guard raised the Barrett rifle and opened fire. The vampires scurried away. One dove into the receptionist’s booth near the entrance and another darted out the front door.
Glenda started walking as she continued firing and I stayed right on her heels. Two vamps lay on the checkerboard linoleum with smoke coming from their bullet wounds. The female receptionist peeked her head through the opening in the booth. Glenda caught the movement from her peripheral, jerked the gun to her left and fired.
The receptionist’s head disappeared just in the nick of time as an outpouring of bullets traced across the booth from left to right. Glenda suddenly spun around, and I peeked over my left shoulder.
Another vampire had his pistol raised at me, ready to fire. Click. The gun jammed. The ultimate sigh of relief heaved through my lungs and out of my mouth.
Glenda pulled the trigger of the Barrett. Her gun didn’t jam. A string of bullets crushed the vamp in the chest and shoulders.
Instead of waiting for the body to fall, she turned back toward the entrance and we were moving again. Glenda kicked the front door open and we moved outside into darkness. More shots sailed past our heads and I marveled at how reckless Glenda was with her life. Almost as reckless as yours truly.
The only part of her body that moved was her head as she scanned the area, trying to identify where the shots were coming from. I couldn’t tell either and moved behind a column on the patio for protection. Glenda fired, but it was a short burst, not the long continuous fire storms she had been bringing.
A smoking body fell next to the limo in the front driveway. Another short burst of bullets from Glenda dropped another vampire, hiding near the valet booth. “Let’s go,” Glenda said, and I followed her down the entrance and along the perimeter of the driveway.
We moved past several limousines, a few Cadillac Escalades, a Porsche and a Ferrari. We moved further down the driveway.
Glenda pointed, and said, “We’re right over here.” Off to the side of the driveway, on the grass lawn under a tree sat an old beat up junker of a car. “Our chariot awaits, good sir,” she said with an English accent.
You had to be kidding me. This was our getaway car. To call it a piece of shit would be an insult to pieces of shit. It was a Mercury Monterey convertible from the fifties or sixties. You could barely see the original yellow paint because of all the rusting. Or patina as some would call it.
The convertible top was damaged and mangled, not properly in place and the front grill looked like she had used it as a battering ram. One of the headlights was dangling above the bumper, holding on for dear life. I would bet this vehicle had really been something b
ack in the sixties.
Glenda jammed the key into the ignition as more bullets flew in our direction, hitting the car. I said, “Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.”
She turned the key. Wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, enkkk.
Those were not good sounds for an engine to make. She tried again.
Wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, enkk.
Bullets busted through the back windshield and I sank down in my seat, heart pounding against my ribcage.
Glenda rubbed her hands together as if she were working up a spell and turned the key again. Wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, wooz, vroom.
She pressed on the gas and the engine roared like a hungry dragon after a year-long hibernation.
Glenda shifted into drive and the tires spun in place, shooting grass and dirt in every direction. The tires caught traction, and we were off, fishtailing on the lawn until she got the car onto the paved driveway. The rubber squealed and smoked as it met the pavement and we bolted toward the entrance.
We started down the incline toward the entrance gates and several vampires were standing in front, blocking our exit. I turned to my left. Glenda narrowed her eyes, sped up and smiled. Oh shit. I checked for a seatbelt. None, of course.
I gripped the sides of my seat and jammed my right heel on the imaginary passenger brakes as Glenda sped up even more. The vamps looked at each other as we neared, confused as to why we weren’t slowing down. Just a crazy-ass Brazilian, fellas. Best to get out the way. I wondered how she had got through the entrance to get in.
The enemy realized Glenda had no plans to stop the vehicle and dove out of the way as we rapidly approached. I ground my teeth and squinted, bracing for the worst, as we plowed into the metal gate.
A huge silver spark flashed from the impact. To my surprise, the gate gave way and finally busted open. Glenda’s loose headlight flew twenty feet in the air and landed behind us as we cruised out the opening and to safety.
“Wooohoooo,” screamed Glenda as she reached under the seat. She pulled out a PBR can and opened it with one hand while steering with the other.
“Are you sure you should be drinking right now?”
She turned and looked at me like I was crazy. “Fuck yeah. Little celebratory brew for rescuing you and settling an old grudge. Want some?”
She slammed the back of her hand into my chest and a volcano of beer flew up in the air. I turned my head away but the fountain of golden ale rained down on my face and lips.
Using my shirt, I carefully wiped all the beer off my face and especially my lips. If I drank any alcohol, I would lose my magical powers. Considering we had everyone from the Purple House on our ass now, losing those abilities would be detrimental.
It was a little deal between the Gods and me. They had been afraid I was developing a drinking problem and had given me a pill to be certain to nip it in the bud. So I had to be careful not to consume even a drop.
I pushed her hand away. “No thanks. Don’t ask again.”
“Pansy.” She chugged the rest of the can and casually tossed it out the window.
We drove for a while in silence, but I remembered her previous statement. “So what did you mean by old grudge, back there?”
She stared into the rear-view mirror. “Hold on. We’re almost here. Gotta make sure the vamps aren’t lurking. Those fuckers move quick.”
The gravity of what had just happened started to hit me. “I can’t believe you killed so many of them back there.”
“I didn’t kill any of them,” Glenda explained. “If I had, the survivors would be hot on our heels. Those weren’t silver bullets or dipped in holy water or anything like that. For immortals, it was just one hell of an ass whooping. Hell, they’ll probably heal back up within a couple of weeks. Sure as shit slowed em down though.”
We pulled up to a row of Section 8 housing in Etna. I wasn’t sure what street we were on, but Felix and I had passed here before and he had told me it was Section 8 block. It certainly looked the part. The dull blue paint on the front façade of the ten dilapidated duplexes was chipping and peeling away. The house on the end had WHORE written vertically in black spray paint down the front door. A man sat against a door in the middle of the row of housing. He swilled on a forty of Olde English and was either talking to himself or an invisible friend. He didn’t look like a vampire waiting to ambush us, but I reminded myself to keep an eye on him.
I’d lived in cheap housing like this back in high school. With a sixty-one-year-old woman who called herself Mouse. It was either that or the streets. I always wondered what had happened to her. We hadn’t talked after we’d gone our separate ways. I’d graduated and moved into a better place. Life worked in funny ways.
Glenda threw the Mercury in park, grabbed three cans of PBR from under the seat and hooked the carrying strap of the Barrett over her shoulder. She opened her door and so did I. As I walked around the vehicle, my eyes widened, noticing it had been hit by at least a couple dozen bullets of a high caliber. Big ole holes in the back door. The back windshield was busted out and one of the taillights had been shattered.
We crossed the street and she walked up to the single-story unit on the end. She shoved the key in the knob on the door marked WHORE, and whispered, “Jealous ex-boyfriend.”
She held her finger in front of her lips, inhaled and held her breath as she entered the house.
I went to follow her in and a foul odor of spoiled onions and stale beer hit me in the face. Still tiptoeing, Glenda ran her hand along the wall and the room lit up. The simple one floor set up appeared to be a bedroom in the front and a kitchen in the back. The two rooms were separated by a sheet, although the piece of fabric only covered half the opening.
“We’re home,” she announced and placed her Barrett gently into its padded carrying case. “What do you think? It’s too much, right? Too much decoration?” She smirked and set her cans of beer down.
“It’s too much something,” I agreed, trying to take it in.
I glanced around the room at the hundreds of empty beer cans scattered haphazardly around the room. Then I checked out an old couch with mismatched cushions. In front of the couch sat a coffee table with overflowing ashtrays and next to that was an end table with some strange plants on it.
Upon further inspection, the Outback carry out bags on the floor unraveled the smelly mystery. They weren’t plants, but blooming onions that she’d let sit out for who knows how long. The green mold covered the onion sprouts and gave it the appearance of a Chia Pet.
She used her left arm to sweep a couch cushion full of beer cans clean. The aluminum cans clunked against the other cans lying on the floor. She gestured with a welcoming hand for me to sit down. I navigated around the maze of beer cans and other clutter to sit down on the couch.
A flat screen TV hung on the far wall, but as I looked closer, the screen had a huge crack running down the middle. “Nice place,” I commented, trying to hide my grin.
Glenda laughed and said, “We both know it’s a shithole.”
“No. Not at all. I mean, if you cleaned it up a little bit, it could be a shithole.”
She chuckled and cracked another beer. As she drank the beer with one hand, she used the other one to dig into her tight jeans and pry out a pack of Newports. Using one hand, she flipped open the hardpack with her thumb, shook it so a few cigarettes poked out of the top and plucked out a smoke with her lips.
She dropped the pack and lowered the beer to rest on her thigh. She held the smoke in her mouth and dug back into her pocket. Her right hand emerged with a purple Bic lighter. She sparked the cigarette, hit it twice and pulled the butt away from her lips.
She turned toward me, exhaling a cloud of smoke in my face. Slightly minty. I fanned the haze away and asked the question again, “What did you mean by old grudge?”
Glenda leaned back into her grungy couch and kicked her feet up on the coffee table. “Well, as you can plainly see from my accommodations, I am a successful businesswoman
. I used to do a lot of business with the Purple Clan, acting as a middleman between the blood banks and them. As you might be privy to knowing, they cut out the middleman. I offered a few more of my services and thought we had an agreement.”
“Okay.”
“Oh, shit. I need to explain something so that you understand me. Look into my eyes right now.”
A ferocious look came over her face as we locked eyes. “I don’t have much material goods in this world. You see.” She pointed around the filthy room. “I don’t give a fuck about anything worth money. I have my pride and dignity. Don’t you ever fuck with that. It might not seem like much, but the vamps pissed me off because they agreed to work with me after the blood bank stuff. Then they went back on their word and cut me out for no reason. I was offering them better deals and better products than the people they decided to work with. I know that shit and it pissed me off.”
She took a gulp of beer. “I bided my time and when someone heard the rumor that the vamps were going to kill you, I seized the opportunity.”
I spoke nasally. “Did you do it because you love me?”
Glenda rolled her eyes. “Psshh, don’t flatter yourself, nerd. You said you would pay me a bonus if I did a good job on this trip to Japan.”
I thought for a few moments. “I never said that.”
She flashed a smile and waggled her thick eyebrows. “You wanna reconsider?”
“Considering you performed the noble act before even asking me, I will give you a nice bonus, so you can get a nicer car. Hint. Hint. Maybe a bulletproof one.” I saw right through her act. She pretended like she’d saved me for the money, but I knew she had done that shit for revenge. “Wait, did Felix even say anything about me?”
“No. He just texted me that day of the trip and said it was canceled. He did say he had a huge problem to take care of, but no specifics,” she explained.
That son of a bitch. If Felix had been kidnapped, I would have rounded up a huge search party and kicked in the front door of the Purple House like Glenda just had. Where the fuck was his little ass at?