Damned and Cursed | Book 10 | Fallen Skye

by Bullion, Glenn

  They parked at the edge of the clearing. Marie tried to figure out what they were looking at. A large building, a few sheds, several cars.

  “What is this?” Marie asked.

  “It’s a landing strip.”

  “They flew Skye somewhere?”

  “Let’s go ask.”

  Jack left the car and marched with purpose. Marie jogged to catch up.

  “You’re just going to … walk on up?”

  “Yeah.”

  “But what if Skye’s here now? What if she’s in danger? We just can’t burst on in.”

  “Sure we can. Anyway, you have that super wolf nose. If something smells off, just let me know.”

  “Jack, I hate you.”

  “I know.”

  They approached from the rear of the hangar. Circling around, Marie reached out with her senses. Laughter, animated conversation, the scents of other drugs she couldn’t identify.

  “Four men,” she said. “Having a good time. Plenty of beer, and—” The scent was a surprise. “Chicken noodle soup.”

  Outside the front of the hangar was a small plane. She could smell the engine cooling. It had only landed recently. She peered inside the open hangar to see the group of men playing cards at a table. There were shelves in the way, along with crates and boxes. She didn’t worry about being seen.

  Marie approached the plane and sniffed. She opened the door slowly and poked her head inside. Skye’s scent was present, but faint.

  “She was here. In this plane. They did fly somewhere.”

  She turned to see Jack staring at her, a small smile on his face.

  “What?”

  “Have I ever told you how hot you are when you sniff around like that?”

  “I don’t think you have.”

  He nodded toward the hangar entrance.

  “Are you ready for this?”

  “I always am.”

  They walked side by side toward the rear. The men were fighting over the last two beers. One enjoyed another spoonful of soup.

  “Gentlemen,” Jack called.

  The word implied etiquette and manners, but Jack’s tone was the opposite. He nearly spit the word.

  They jumped to their feet at the interruption.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Hey asshole. This is not a place you want to be.”

  Jack laughed.

  “Tell me about it.”

  One pulled a knife. Another a gun. Marie tried not to laugh.

  “Look,” the one in front said. “You have ten seconds, before we—”

  “Yeah, yeah. You’ll beat me up.” He motioned to Marie. “Pull her hair. Take our lunch money. I’ve heard it all before.”

  The man eating soup leered at Marie.

  “I’ll do more than pull her hair.”

  Jack pointed at them.

  “Which one of you—?”

  Marie vomited.

  She didn’t feel it coming, didn’t feel sick in the slightest. For the first time since having the flu as a child, Marie’s stomach emptied. Her evening dinner went all over her shirt and jeans, spilling on the floor in front of her. She bent over, putting her hands on her knees.

  The men laughed, both shocked and disgusted.

  She barely had enough strength to look up.

  “Jack?” she said.

  The world went dark.

  *****

  Jack caught Marie before she could hit the ground. He scooped her into his arms. Drool ran down her mouth onto his forearm. He tried to shift her to not get vomit on his clothes.

  The men took a few steps forward.

  “Whoa! Hold on, guys. Just … give me a second. Before we do this.”

  They actually complied. Out of surprise, curiosity, arrogance, Jack wasn’t sure. But he took the moment to step away from the puddle Marie had left behind and lay her gently next to a crate.

  “Okay. Now.” Jack eyed each of them, breaking them down. The weapons they had, their demeanor. “Some people came through here earlier tonight. With a woman, against her will. Which of you knows how to fly a plane?”

  They said nothing, but didn’t need to. They traded confused glances. A mixture of amusement and concern.

  One received a few more glances than the others. The man in the back, with the chicken soup. He shifted uncomfortably, then grabbed a nearby pipe.

  Mortals were so easy to read.

  They stepped forward again, sizing Jack up. He stole a peek at his unconscious companion.

  “I have to say,” Jack began. “I’ve had a very shitty night. But I’ve been keeping it together pretty well. For my daughter, and—” He motioned to Marie. “To a lesser extent, Sleeping Beauty over there. But now, I can be honest.” His smile was dangerous. “I haven’t been this angry in decades. And I’m going to take it out on each and every one of you.”

  He paused as an image of Tiffany flashed through his mind. He clenched his eyes shut in frustration.

  What he wanted to do, what he was planning, was not what Tiffany would do.

  “Unless, we … ” The word pained him. “Talk. There’s still a way out of this. No one has to get hurt. All you have to do, is—”

  Four shots rang out. Jack felt a stinging in his chest. He looked down to see the bullets land at his feet, bouncing in front of him.

  “Shit, Jeff, I wanted to beat up on him a bit.”

  “He was talking too much.”

  “What are we going do with the woman?”

  Their banter stopped when they noticed Jack wasn’t dead. He wasn’t even hurt or rolling in pain. Their reaction might have made him laugh if he wasn’t thinking about how he was going to hurt them.

  He charged. They fired more shots, and someone picked up a chair and swung it. He raised his arm to stop the blow, knocking him off balance.

  But Jack didn’t stop.

  Only the pilot was important. He needed to be careful in how he handled him.

  The rest were nothing. They didn’t matter.

  Jack tackled the first mortal he could reach. They tumbled to the ground and rolled into the legs of the table, bringing alcohol and playing cards down on top of them. He wrapped his hands around the mortal’s throat, squeezing with everything he had. The mortal pushed and struggled, but Jack didn’t relent.

  The mortal’s friends came to his aid.

  They tried to pull Jack away. When his grip didn’t budge, he felt something cold and sharp drag across his neck.

  Someone was trying to cut his throat.

  Jack grabbed the knife by the blade and pulled it away. He stabbed the mortal in the stomach. A second time, then a third. He cocked his arm back for a fourth attempt, but the others dragged him.

  The three remaining men cursed and shouted as they beat Jack. One fired a few more rounds, while the pilot beat him with his pipe. Jack smiled, amused, as he covered his head. The way mortals thought never ceased to amaze him. They were coming to the realization that a gun had no effect on Jack, but perhaps a pipe would.

  He shook his head as the pipe crashed into his skull, repeatedly.

  Jack did nothing but wait. Their arrogance and confidence returned with his lack of action. Two of them taunted Jack as the third checked on their bleeding companion.

  After a minute, their attacks slowed. They didn’t have the energy or attention span for a sustained assault.

  Jack had no such problem.

  The pilot dropped the pipe to the ground and bent over, exhausted. Jack reached out and grabbed it.

  From one knee, he swung at the head of the man kneeling over his companion. Blood sprayed as he collapsed. Jack pushed past the pilot and aimed for another strike. There would be no doubt, no moment where the mortal clung to life because Jack didn’t finish the job. He heard a growl, and thought for a moment that Marie had awakened. He turned to see her still unconscious, oblivious to the massacre.

  The growl had come from him.

  The last two men ran. Jack picked up a dropped gun and to
ok careful aim. The first shot narrowly missed, striking a shelf. He made a promise to himself to spend more time at the range. The second shot struck true, hitting the third mortal in the back. He fell and slammed into the front wall of the hangar.

  Jack ran after the pilot. As he emerged into the night air, he saw the pilot at a car, sliding behind the steering wheel. Jack ran to the driver’s side as the pilot started the engine. He slammed the butt of the gun through the window, smashing it to pieces. The pilot struggled and fought as Jack pulled him out. Jack twisted his arm and broke it. The struggle soon turned to something Jack was all too familiar with.

  Whining and begging.

  “Please, man! Don’t kill me!”

  “Quiet.”

  Jack shot him in the leg. The pilot screamed and fell. Grabbing him by the ankle, Jack dragged the pilot back to the hangar. The mortal with the bullet in his back struggled to crawl away. Jack shot him in the head as they passed.

  He dropped the gun. He wouldn’t need it again. Not with what he had in mind.

  The pilot cried more.

  “Fuck! Look—”

  “This all could have been avoided. But, no. You wouldn’t even let me finish my fucking sentence.”

  He set the pilot down near Jack’s first victim, the one he’d stabbed. A pool of blood rapidly formed, flowing under the pilot’s hand. He tried to pull away, but Jack drove a knee into his back and grabbed his hair, forcing him to look at his friend.

  The man blinked, and his fingers twitched.

  “Do you see that?” Jack asked. “He’s still alive. Clinging for life. Savoring every breath.”

  “Please—”

  “This is always so fascinating to watch.” The pilot tried to turn away, but Jack wouldn’t let him. He shoved his face into the bloody floor. “Right now, one of a few things might be happening. It’s cliche, but he might be seeing his life, flashing before his eyes. His family, if he has any. Any guilt he’s been carrying. Any regrets. It makes me all sad just thinking about it.”

  “I’ll—”

  “Or, he could be focusing on this moment.” He waved around him. “This hangar, what happened here, the violence, the bloodshed, how you cheat at poker. He could be reliving it in his mind. That’s how hauntings happen, you know. Hey, look. He’s dead. What do you think? Is this place going to be haunted? Because if it is, I know a guy.”

  “Just listen—”

  “I wanted you to experience this. This is the last thing you’ll ever see.” He grabbed the spoon that had fallen on the floor, still bathed in chicken noodle soup. “Because I’m going to pluck out your eyes.”

  He flipped the pilot onto his back and pressed the spoon under his eyelid.

  “The woman! She was here! With three other guys!”

  “Oh, now we’re talking?” Jack said. “What makes you think I’m interested in what you have to say now?”

  He pressed the spoon a little deeper.

  “I’ll fly you! I’ll take you right to where I took them!”

  “Hmm. That’s not a terrible idea. Do you need your eyes for that?”

  “Yes! Fuck, man! Yeah. I need to see!”

  Jack eased up, shaking his head in disappointment.

  “Shit. Go ahead and ruin my fun.” He helped the pilot to his feet and slapped him across the face, with just enough force to get his attention. The pilot shifted his weight to his good leg. “It sounds like we have a plan, and a plane to catch. Help me carry Snow White over there. Now, you won’t try anything stupid? We’ve learned all our lessons here?”

  He shook his head so hard Jack thought it would spin.

  “No! No, we’re all good.”

  “Great! Because, if you don’t … ”

  Jack playfully tapped him on the head with the spoon.

  CHAPTER 23

  VICTORIA AND ZEKE rushed down the stairs to his private room. It was empty. A bottle of Bourbon lay on its side, dripping onto the carpet. The door to the larger club was open. They could hear the chaos. People moving, shouts of pain and confusion, violence.

  A gunshot rang out.

  She made it to the door first, with Zeke close behind. Everyone fell on top of each other, rushing for the exits. More gunfire. A woman fell to the dance floor, holding her leg. The crowd nearly trampled on her.

  Then she disappeared in the sea of bodies. Victoria saw her panicked expression before something jumped on her.

  More creatures, just like from the sewers. Their stench filled the tight space. They attacked vampires and mortals both. She couldn’t tell how many there were.

  “Oh, fuck!” Zeke shouted. “We have to help!”

  At long last, Zeke had finally said something they agreed on.

  “Yes, we do. Help the mortals get out.”

  Zeke nodded, and moved into the crowd. One of the mindless vampires had a mortal woman pinned to the wall, its fangs deep in her neck. Victoria rushed to help. She grabbed the vampire by the shoulders and pulled. The vampire flung her aside easily. Their strength was incredible.

  Baring her own fangs, she clamped down on the vampire’s shoulder. Vampires rarely bit one another. It was almost instinctual to feed, drink blood, but Victoria refused. She didn’t know what their blood was capable of, what magical corruption it held.

  Her attack finally got its attention. It howled and lashed out, trying to throw Victoria off. The mortal woman sank to the floor. Victoria lost her grip and sailed into a wall. The vampire crouched, readying to attack, but decided there were other targets elsewhere.

  Victoria tended to the injured woman. It was Heather, the woman Victoria threatened with a gun only ten minutes ago. Heather cried as she pressed her palm to her neck. Blood flowed between her fingers onto her chest.

  “Hey,” Victoria said, keeping her voice calm. “We meet again.”

  “Am I going to die?”

  “No, you’re not going to die. I know you’ve been bit before.”

  “Not like this. What are those things?”

  Victoria gently pulled Heather’s hand away. Her wound was severe, but she’d seen worse. She grabbed a coat from a chair not far away and wrapped it around Heather’s neck.

  “Just keep this tight. Okay? Keep low, and go for the door.”

  “Thank you.”

  Heather half-crawled away. Victoria stood and surveyed the room. Her supernatural brethren disgusted her as fellow vampires shoved aside mortals trying to escape. There were at least five mindless vampires, maybe more, all in various states of dress. One was naked as he dove into a group of mortals.

  She needed to help the mortals escape, as many as she could. Only then could she put up a fight. She fought off the harsh fact that not all of them were going to live.

  She raised her stone necklace to her lips.

  The air rushed out of her lungs before she could speak. Someone tackled her from the side. The necklace around her neck broke, the stone falling to the floor. A hand gripped her neck, squeezing, while a claw stabbed her stomach. She grimaced and winced. She could feel the claw digging at her intestines. Raking at the vampire’s eye, its grip loosened. Before Victoria could fight back and stand, a head loomed over her.

  It was Alan.

  He pounced, sinking his fangs into her cheek. Shouting in pain and anger, she lashed out. She bit Alan in return, catching a corner of his ear. But the vampire didn’t relent. He thrashed like a wild dog, ripping flesh away from Victoria’s face.

  A chair crashed down on Alan, sending splinters over Victoria. The mindless vampires shuffled away, but didn’t retreat. A pair of firm hands hooked Victoria under the arms and hoisted her to her feet. The sudden jolt caused more pain. She bled from her side and face.

  She cast a quick glance next to her to see Zeke. He had his own injuries, with a bloody shoulder. Victoria scooped up her necklace.

  “You alright?” he asked.

  “I will be. Thanks. Are you glad I came now?”

  “Shut up.”

  The crowd h
ad thinned. Most of the mortals, and vampires, were gone. The injured lay about, writhing and moaning. Several mortals were dead.

  The monstrous vampires shuffled closer. Zeke pressed closer to Victoria. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see three of Zeke’s companions had joined them. Not everyone fled. She wished she knew their names.

  “We’re with you,” a dark-haired woman said.

  Victoria nodded, and Zeke gave her a quick kiss.

  “How do we fight these things?” he asked. “It’s like getting hit by a truck.”

  They were surrounded. She finally had a proper view of Alan and the vampires like him. There were eight of them, five men and three women. Victoria wasn’t sure how much humanity, or vampire, remained in them. Feeding was only partially why they hunted. She could see it in their eyes, their twisted sneers.

  They enjoyed killing.

  “We have to gang up on one, two at a time,” Victoria said. “They can be hurt.”

  Zeke wiped blood from his mouth.

  “That’s the dumbest—”

  He didn’t finish his insult. Alan rushed for them, and the others followed. Victoria and her makeshift team didn’t have the numbers, didn’t have the strength.

  But they fought anyway.

  To his credit, Zeke listened to her advice. He stayed near her, attacked the same target. Zeke’s friends followed their leads, and they held off a few, almost drove a pool cue into another.

  But Alan and the others were too much. Victoria was battered and bleeding. Zeke used a chair to fend off two of them, but was losing. His female friend lay motionless with a table leg shoved in her chest. Not dead, but comatose.

  She clutched her necklace in her fist. Kevin’s magic would certainly help. But she refrained from calling him. He most likely didn’t have a photograph of the club, had no means of creating a portal.

  Victoria also had a better idea for the magical trinket.

  “We have to get out of here,” Zeke hissed, waving his chair.

  “We can’t let these things loose. We have to—”

  She tumbled into the bar as someone struck her from behind. Alcohol and glass fell on her. She looked up to see Alan perched on the bar top, snarling down at her. He leapt at her, but she got her hands up. She grabbed a bottle of Vodka next to her and shattered it across his face. Whether it was the taste that splashed in his mouth, or the burning in his eyes, he backed away from Victoria to collect himself.