The Vampires Of Livix Twin Pack (Volumes #1 & #2)

by Smith, J Gordon

“Thanks for the offer,” said Branoc, “but we’re alright for now.”

  “Suit yourself.” Bruce put the Massai bottles away. He trudged back around the bar and sat in front of his plate. He idly spun his second egg. Thinking. Contemplating. Then he popped the yellowed fireball in his mouth and chewed on it. He slurped at some of his beer. “Whew! Those eggs are hot. Cleans the pores out though. Better than a sauna.”

  “Sammy is a good clerk?”

  “Yes. I keep a messy office back there,” Bruce leaned back. He touched my arm and said, “Brett, why don’t you show your lady the juke box? One of the guys in the club converted it over to play a pot full of songs from a computer server he bolted in it. Sounds real good.”

  “Mp3’s or Ogg?” asked Brett.

  “– Ogg Vorbis of course,” Bruce offered.

  Branoc said, “What’s that?”

  I even knew this part of technology, “Mp3’s have patent restrictions. Ogg formats are open and free to use. We had a big discussion on the music industry in a class last winter.” I strolled over with Brett. He set his pop down and thumbed through the screen modified under the glass dome.

  “A good class. Not like the bus mechanic school I went to,” said Bruce.

  “Your nails don’t look like you’ve been under the hood of a diesel in a while.”

  “I started the Duck Club after I got twisted out of the mechanics union. Too much politics and not good for the common man. The leaders go to party at off-site resorts using money from the member’s dues. All about building teamwork. But that is what we do here.”

  “You fight for the common man?” Branoc asked.

  “That’s what we primarily attend to. Have to protect the common man. Otherwise, who’ll save them from the predations of the vampires?”

  Sammy’s wiry body scrambled through the door. At his shoulder he held a strange looking crossbow. Two bows oriented vertically and strung with the wheels and pulleys common with compound bows. Long bolts knocked from the outside toward the stock. A steel cable tying a razor between the bolts dangled loosely.

  Big Bruce said, “As you guess, that contraption facing you –” a second agitated man banged through the door behind Sammy with an identical crossbow. “– is meant to either pin you against something or best case take your head right off.”

  “You know what agency I work for.”

  “Of course Mr. Branoc. But we are defending our house. Nothing wrong with that.” Bruce wrenched a dusty tap at the end of his arm and a Claymore sprang up to his hand from a spring loaded hidden compartment. The scrape of steel on steel ground out as he pulled the weapon from its hole and across the bar.

  “A Scottish Claymore goes well with your red hair, Bruce.” said Branoc. He remained at ease. The kind of ease that one has from being constantly around this kind of danger. Garin already leaned forward on the balls of his feet with his fists clenching and unclenching the sword grip while his eyes darted.

  “It fits well.” Bruce spun the blade about its long axis in nervousness. The six feet of razor sharpened steel flashed with a red glow from a pair of neon beer signs. His voice remained calm, “I think you two should leave.”

  “You know that’s a weapon for open fields. You’ll never get a good swing with it in here. And did the Isles know about Damascus steel when they forged that weapon?”

  “It’s not so old. It only looks old. It’s made from old plowshares by one of the guys in a group that makes knives to sell at art fairs,” Bruce stopped spinning the sword and gripped it tight in both fists, “It’s been tested completely. Other vampires have fallen from its edges. As for an open field, that’s why the chairs barely come above the tables.”

  I looked around and saw how the chair backs slunk below the table’s height. A friend had chairs like these that made my back hurt. But for his purpose now –

  “– I’m not trying to cut your shoe laces either.”

  My phone rang. And rang again.

  “You should answer that,” said Big Bruce. His eyes unwavering from Branoc’s.

  I reached into my pocked and retrieved the phone. My sister’s name scrolled across the caller ID, “It’s my sister.”

  “You should answer that,” Bruce repeated.

  I touched the side of the phone and put it to my ear.

  “– And put it on speaker.”

  I complied, “Hello?”

  -:- Twelve -:-

  “Anna! These men have us!”

  Branoc stood erect. The crossbows fidgeted at his movement.

  “Where?” I asked. My palms already clammy and smudging the glass on the phone.

  A grin spread across Big Bruce’s face.

  “They want to talk with Garin.”

  “I’ll negotiate with them,” said Branoc. “What are their demands?”

  I heard my sister whimpering. My mind flashed to yellow tape wrapping my friend Bethany’s house. Her murder. Still unsolved. Dread filled my heart as these guys might be the ones that made that hole.

  A gravelly voice took the phone from my sister and demanded, “We want Garin and the other vampire businesses gone from town.”

  “That can’t happen in any kind of rapid manor. It’s not like you’re robbing a bank.”

  “He can make some calls and shut the plant down. His will be easy as we know of the financial struggles already.”

  “– Fabricated by a pair of executives that are no longer with the company,” Garin said.

  “That bank needs to close down too.”

  “You realize that business makes a lot of economy in this small town? Jobs?”

  “Yes it does. For the vampires. How else do they fund those blue bottles? And covering up the human deaths?”

  Another voice on the far end of the phone said, “Humans won’t survive with these thirsty parasites draining life and manipulating the economy.”

  Garin said, “Read your history. Three vampires founded Livix.”

  Branoc glared at Garin.

  “Founded as an unholy nest of evil at the outskirts of Detroit. Now home to many upstanding humans only because they don’t know about the vampires.”

  My four little nieces and nephews wailed out of fear somewhere in the background. My sister tried comforting them. My brother-in-law Michael attempted hushing Joanna with his voice. The strain and fear in their voices palpable and not effectively distracting the children.

  Branoc asked, “How many do you have?”

  “The whole family of this girlfriend of Garin’s.”

  “No. How many partners do you have there?”

  “Enough to do our work should you not meet our demands.”

  “Fair enough.” Branoc said, “Are you kidnapping people at the business owner’s homes?”

  “Only some of the more prominent.”

  “Difficult to shut everything down. It takes time. And others will come to defend.”

  “That’s where Massai is the tool.”

  “You poisoned the vampire’s food?” the second crossbowman said, his crossbow dipping slightly, “Shit. That’s a bad plan, man.”

  Big Bruce’s eyes flamed, “The vampires must be destroyed. Too dangerous for our families.”

  Branoc said, “Massai keeps people safe.”

  “How so? I think it’s like going to the park and seeing signs warning against feeding the bears. The bears become dependent on the artificial food source but also strengthen and multiply. They become friendlier. Then one day the friendliness ends sharply –” Bruce looked at me and then slid his eyes to Branoc, “and they turn.”

  Garin said, “That’s why we have the Vampire Rules. We have to protect the humans as much as ourselves.”

  “Poisoning Massai does the opposite. No vampire will trust the Massai supplies.”

  “Unable to trust the Massai the vampires will quench their thirst on humans. Do that and people die –”

  “– but they also learn to rise up and defend themselves.” Bruce said, “They know that
vampires live. Not some myth haunting childhood fairy tales as easy to shut out as closing the book before bed.”

  Garin mouthed, “Torches –”

  “– and pitchforks” Branoc finished.

  “No one wins.”

  “We watched your terrorist cell.”

  “I didn’t have a cell.”

  “Then a rogue vampire terrorist cell. They set up shop above that aluminum caster.”

  “You’ve killed them all.”

  “Good. They built some sort of massive virus.”

  “Computer virus?” Garin asked.

  “No. Real virus. Against humans.”

  Branoc’s shock came through his voice, “What virus? We saw only detonators.”

  “How else do you violently spread something like that?” Bruce leaned forward. “We’ve talked enough. My arms don’t have the stamina of a thirsty vampire to hold this sword for long. Better if I swing it with an adrenaline rush.” He eased forward, “Joe, get the van and bring the cuffs in.”

  “Yes, sir.” Joe pushed the door outside. The bright daylight burst into the darkened club. A chugging engine halted with a screech of brakes outside the door and Joe returned with chains and manacles.

  Bruce said, “Joe, now put those on our vampire friends like we showed you. And Mr. Branoc and Garin please assist Joe by not moving. I’d hate to clean up this bar, again.” Joe dropped one of the cuff systems into a pile of chains and steel cables. The second one he hefted and wrapped around Garin’s neck and pulled his arms back and clamped the shackles on his hands and feet. “These are like prisoner manacles. However, we know your strength, so they are not only made of titanium alloy but reinforced with cutting blades. Try to break out and they slice through your neck. Wonderful Engineering.” Bruce gripped his sword, “We’ve tested these too, by the way.”

  “Mr. Branoc –” asked Joe. Branoc turned, lifting his hands for Joe. The chains jingled as Joe hefted them and arranged the ends on the floor and hung the loose ends on Branoc’s wrists. He untangled one of the chains before he could lock them in place.

  My sister screamed.

  An explosion ruptured across the phone for an instant before the sound and the phone went dead.

  Big Bruce blinked his eyes at Sammy and Joe, “Our guys didn’t have any explosives.”

  Branoc said, “I didn’t have any people there.”

  Sammy said, “Must be the vampire terror-cell.”

  “But we got everyone at the plant,” mumbled Bruce.

  “They must have had reinforcements or a second sleeper cell hidden somewhere.”

  “My cousin Eddie is there.”

  Branoc dropped to a crouch and swung his leg out knocking Joe on the floor. Branoc vaulted up and snatched Garin and burst out of the front door. Wood splinters shattered in a cloud of debris. The modified crossbow bolts fired and wound around flying chunks of the door slicing them into smaller pieces before slamming into the wall and the door jamb. Bright orange fletching quivered in the dust. A blur swept through the door and scooped up Brett and me thrusting us through the slivers of wood and torn metal still bouncing on the industrial terracotta ceramic floor tile at the entrance.

  Branoc dropped us like flour sacks and grunted, “Get in the car.” His eyes blazed like Garin’s had in the slaughterhouse. I saw only the swiftness of his black coat swirl through the billowing dust filling the opening of the shattered door. We clamored into Branoc’s car in time to see him exit the building with the crossbows. Like magic the Dodge roared to life with a remote start. Branoc tossed the crossbows up like a coach tosses a softball to bat to his outfielders. A flash of the claymore across them sheared the cables and bows into pieces that fell to the gravel. He moved to a big boulder ringing the parking lot where he gripped the pommel of the sword and with speed and power I could only guess at, he slammed the point of the sword into the rock like a climber’s pinion. Or like a contractor drives a nail through concrete. The impact and force of the blade carried the metal into the rock to the hilt. Branoc brushed off his coat and flung it in a ball at my feet on the passenger floor.

  “Here, Brett. Unlock Garin,” A ring of keys looped over the head-rest to land in Brett’s stomach. “Buckle up.”

  Branoc stamped his boot into the accelerator. I clung to the seat belt. Tightening it at every curve. I don’t think any of the turns the tires actually remained in constant contact with the road. We skidded around every corner, floating on compressed vapor from the smoking rubber. Absentmindedly Branoc touched a switch on his dash and the flash of police lights bounced back at us from every reflective surface on the streets – a red and blue lightning sparking across the city. The police siren oozed out of the gaps between the body works fleeing the ferocious engine growling inches from my feet. We launched through intersection after intersection. Bursts of tire squawks as the otherwise smooth undulations of the road turned into ramps that skipped the car like a stone on the black water of the asphalt. The yellow line sucked under the nose of the black car as we overran the siren. Branoc swerved around dazed drivers as we powered ahead. I only peripherally heard the clinking of chains falling to the floor off Garin.

  Garin said, “You’ll have to introduce me to your mechanic. That’s not a stock engine in there.”

  “Sure.” Then Branoc glanced in the rear view mirror at Brett, “When did you tell them Garin is a vampire?”

  “I only told my father when I suspected it.”

  I glared at Brett.

  “Shquirpted … shquirpted … rugtgtl rupplweet quellteiniss … shuirpted.” Branoc hit a button on the dash. The volume on the radio rose above the engine, “Repeat, dispatch?”

  “– explosion reported at address 4096 Court Street.”

  “I’m near. Suppress the regular police and send me some backup.”

  “Yes sir –”

  Stupidly brave I asked Branoc, “Did you kill them? The guys back there?”

  “I should have,” and like emphatic punctuation Branoc clutched and slammed the shifter into the car’s highest of eighteen gears. I cinched the lap belt tighter as the acceleration thrust my body deeper into the seat cushions. The machine growled in response to its latest lashing and it lurched – clawing into the wind.

  -:- Thirteen -:-

  The main road to my sister’s subdivision rolled like a drunken roller coaster at these speeds. Branoc slowed the car. He cut the siren and the lights and for the last mile, we rode in silence only pierced by the panting engine and the down shifting. He bumped the accelerator and without touching the clutch, popped the transmission into neutral. We glided under the dark shade of old trees like a hunting falcon flipping a wing tip as he wheeled us into streets that lined up behind my sister’s subdivision. We came to a stop next to a neon yellow newly sided ranch with bright white trim and sharply cut landscape.

  “Anna and Brett. You stay here in the car. I pointed the car so you can see the house.”

  “And so they didn’t see your brake lights.”

  “Right.” Branoc said. “But I also used the stealth switch to cut them.” Branoc looked at Garin, “You can stay too,” he flipped open the center console and took out his black semi-automatics and slid a canvas bandoleer full of populated clips over his head. “Garin, pull down the center armrest, if you want to go.”

  Garin pulled down the seat armrest exposing a black hole. He fished around and came out with a Wakizashi sword and another semi-automatic like Branoc’s.

  “You know how to use the gun?”

  “Yes.”

  Branoc twisted a catch in the headliner and a hidden compartment opened dropping a sheathed Katana into his open palm.

  “Don’t let the door bang when you get out.”

  “Of course.”

  My sister’s house burned hot. The bedrooms flamed in a charred mess. Bricks from around the front of the house embedded themselves in the plastic siding of the neighbor’s houses and half a dozen cars parked in the street. I heard short bursts
of assault rifles on automatic. Flames from the tips of gun barrels around the decks and planters of the neighbors under these old trees. A huge ash tree on the next door neighbor’s, killed by the ash borer beetle half a dozen years before but too big to take down without a mortgage, and burned like a torch.

  Little heads and eyes watched furtively from the neighborhood houses. The report of gunfire kept them from congregating in gossiping groups. Surprising that no fire engines or other police cars showed up yet, unless you knew about the Vampires.

  My sister’s refrigerator had been spun around and tipped over in front of the kitchen island with the stove lifted and tumbled on top – obviously to deflect both the broken water pipes spraying the kitchen and providing additional cover from the terrorist rifles. The metal barrier stopped most of the bullets. Good that my sister had gotten the full stainless kitchen set when they remodeled rather than the plastic faced simulated stainless look – but who could have guessed a need in buying appliances for their defensive shielding ability? The kitchen protected the stairs into the basement, lit by camping lanterns and frightened flashlight motion. The militia must have them there.

  How long before the water, pouring out of the broken water pipes, filled the basement where they hid my sister and her family? I remembered only a single drain in the laundry room because the kids had a propensity to hide toys there. My sister found out about that after the washing machine overflowed revealing the plugged drain.

  A pair of militia bleeding from shots to the shoulders and legs dragged their fingers across their triggers. They shattered the terrorists’ cover as they slithered closer to the house.

  Another terrorist three houses down raised a long rocket mortar to his shoulder. I saw a flash of steel and the mortar flipped in the air along with the head of the vampire that had been holding it. Even vampires have reflexes or maybe tight timing. The rocket shot over the tops of two houses and the main street outside the subdivision and into an industrial warehouse across the street. Fire and plastic toy soldiers stored there for delivery to the local toy mart rained into the sky. Garin eased around a bushy witchazel but the terrorist heard him and the two flashed in strikes of arms and legs and metal blades. I couldn’t watch.