Deal with the Devil

by Kevin Lee Swaim

  “Tunnels?”

  “The old ones under the club. Like the ones we used to use—”

  “I don’t understand. Why am I so cold? I feel weak.”

  “Greta,” I said quietly into the dark. “It’s Sam. We got you back to the club and got the silver out of your arm.”

  There was another long silence. “You shot me.”

  “I didn’t mean to. It was Spurlock.”

  “Spurlock. She attacked them, Desmond. Elijah, he … he…”

  “I know,” Desmond said. “He’s gone.”

  If we hadn’t been standing in the dark, waiting to be attacked, I might not have picked up on the sadness in his voice. He genuinely cared for Greta, and Elijah, and Asa. I was used to thinking of the vampires as monsters, like Silas. But, these vampires were like…

  People. They sound like regular people.

  “Sam?” Greta said. There was the sound of rustling fabric.

  Desmond’s voice was soft, but there was an underlying tension there. “Stay still, girl. Asa is busting us out of here.”

  “But I’m so hungry,” Great said. “I can smell Sam … and the woman. She smells like…”

  “Like what?” Callie asked.

  There was more rustling.

  Desmond grunted. “You got to stop, Greta.”

  “I just need a little blood to take away the pain,” Greta whispered. “Just a little. I won’t take nothing but a sip. Let me have it. Please, Desmond. Tell them to let me have some blood. It hurts real bad. Just a sip won’t harm nobody.”

  “You can’t have no blood,” Desmond insisted.

  There was a grunt, and the sound of more rustling, and then the thump-thump of Asa’s fists stopped.

  “I’m so hungry.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Callie’s voice was full of panic. “Sam! We have to do something!”

  I swiveled my head in the dark, trying to figure out what was going on.

  Desmond made a series of painful grunts, and there was the sound of flesh on flesh, then more grunts.

  “I’m open to suggestions!”

  Callie’s crucifix sparked to life so bright that I had to shield my eyes. There was a ghostly afterimage, like a snapshot in my head, of a naked Greta struggling against Desmond and Asa, but the sudden light had blinded me.

  “Desmond,” I shouted, as tears streamed down my face, “you better stop her or I’m going to have to shoot her again.”

  “Don’t,” Desmond said. “We can hold her.”

  “It doesn’t look like you’re holding her!”

  “I’m so hungry,” Greta moaned. “I need it!”

  I blinked back tears and grabbed Callie’s hand to pull her away from the vampires. My vision was returning, but it was still almost impossible to make out what was occurring. “We have to go back.”

  Callie stumbled in the dirt. “We can’t go back.”

  “Well, we sure as hell can’t stay here!”

  The crucifix filled the tunnels with blazing white light. Greta struggled toward us anyway, even against the power of God’s will. Desmond and Asa were trying to hold her back, while using Greta’s body to shield them from the crucifix’s power.

  I dragged Callie back the way we came, at least thirty feet or more, almost near the last sharp turn in the tunnel, and that was when Joseph Garski came around the corner in a crouch.

  Garski wore a black contraption over his eyes, with a single monocle in the center of his forehead, and carrying a nasty-looking submachine gun.

  That’s some kind of night vision!

  He was dressed in black commando gear, and as I tried to figure out whether we should run back toward the vampires, he jerked back and yanked his night vision goggles off and threw them to the ground.

  Garski’s gunshots were unbelievably loud in the narrow tunnels. I turned and shoved Callie to the ground as one the bullets punched through my back, right above my right shoulder blade.

  It was like being struck by a baseball, only the baseball burned like the hottest fire imaginable. I collapsed against the ground and tried to scream, but I couldn’t get enough air. When I finally managed to take a deep breath, my lung gurgled, and I coughed up coppery-tasting blood.

  That bastard shot me with a silver bullet!

  Callie screamed at me over the sound of gunfire, pleading with me to stand up and run, and then the light from her crucifix dissipated and her screaming stopped, only to be replaced by the sound of Desmond wailing in the distance, his cries growing softer and quieter as he fled deeper into the tunnel.

  The light of God’s will might have faded, but a ruddy light had taken its place. I watched in horror as Greta and Asa locked hands, their skin covered in greasy ash as flames licked up their bodies.

  Their shrieks were as loud as police sirens as they collapsed to the ground.

  Garski stepped over me, took a long glance at the burning vampires, then gave a satisfied grunt. He picked up Callie’s unconscious form and threw her over his shoulder, stepped over me, and headed back the way he had come without a second glance.

  I had felt pain before, but nothing had prepared me for the suffering that accompanied a gunshot wound. Worse, thanks to the vampire essence inside me, the bullet was literally burning its way out.

  * * *

  The light in the tunnel dimmed as Asa and Greta burned, their bodies almost unrecognizable. The tunnel filled with smoke, and I tried to take another breath. When I did, the blood in my lung made me cough and gag.

  I panicked.

  The bullet is still in my lung, and it’s burning. Even if it doesn’t kill me, my lung will fill with blood, and I’ll drown in my own blood. Garski took Callie. I’m lost in these damned tunnels, and I’m all alone.

  I’m … going to die.

  The thoughts tumbled through my head, and I took ragged breaths, but it only made the choking worse. I staggered to my feet and made it halfway to the burning vampires before my legs collapsed and I hit the ground so hard it knocked me senseless.

  The light in the tunnel dimmed as the fire consumed the last of the vampires, and then the tunnel went dark. I lay on my stomach in that smoke-and-soot-filled tunnel, my cheek pressed into the mud of the tunnel floor and blood frothing from my mouth, waiting to die.

  It can’t end like this. God, if you’re listening, at least give me enough time to save Callie.

  The ground was cold, and I shivered, trying not to breathe any harder than necessary, and then I heard a whisper.

  “Harlan? You still alive?”

  It was Desmond’s voice, but I couldn’t place his location. I tried to answer but only managed to cough up blood.

  The voice was closer this time. “I can tell you’re alive, but it sounds like you may not be for long.”

  In between hacking and coughing, I managed, “He took Callie.”

  “That son of a bitch done killed my friends, Harlan. We ain’t done nothing wrong in years, but he killed them anyway.”

  I coughed and said, “I … don’t…”

  “We got to get out of here,” Desmond said from next to me. “Can you stand?”

  His hands found mine, and he helped me up, but I just collapsed again.

  “Shit. I can’t leave you here.”

  “I’m not … going … to make it. Save Callie—” I coughed up more blood, too weak to continue.

  There was a long moment of silence. “You’re gonna die before I can get you out of here, Harlan. I’m gonna make you an offer. I haven’t done it in over a hundred years, but if you let me give you the gift, I can make you one of us.”

  * * *

  I considered the possibilities.

  Everlasting life. No more pain or regret. Nor remorse. Just … eternal hunger.

  It seemed the thought rolled around in my head for an eternity, but it was probably just a few seconds. “Won’t … work. Bullet’s still … in me. I’d burn.”

>   “Yeah. I forgot about that.”

  “Just go.”

  Desmond sighed. “Ain’t gonna happen.”

  “Why? Why … do you care?”

  “I wasn’t a bad man, Harlan. Before I got the gift, I was just a man. Then Lottie done made me into a crazy thing. I done bad, Sam. Can I call you Sam?”

  I hacked up a mouthful of blood and spat it out. “Sure.”

  “You got some of our strength. You got some of our weakness, too?”

  “What—”

  “Don’t bother lying. You know what I mean.”

  I grunted. “Yeah.”

  “It was so easy. Chicago was hard and dirty, and we killed anyone that got in our way. I finally turned Asa and Greta. Regretted it, too. I started feeling … protective, you know? Lottie, she gave the gift to Cornelius and Minerva. Things settled down. Then Elijah showed up, begging to get the gift. Don’t know how he found us. Didn’t care. I was gonna drain him. Kill him like he was nothing. I gave him the gift instead. The hunger got tamped down, and I could finally think straight. I saw things differently.”

  “How?”

  “Lottie had changed.” When I didn’t speak, Desmond continued, “She wanted to run Chicago. She wanted us to be the king and queen. I had the Checkerboard Lounge by then. We used it as a place to hide in the daylight while we killed at night. Then I got serious about trying to make money. I wanted more than…”

  “Than … blood?”

  “You know what it feels like to wake up from a dream where you’ve become some kind of monster? ’Cept, it wasn’t no dream. When the sheriff came, I hadn’t taken a life in years. Wasn’t no problem for me. The others didn’t have it so easy.”

  The tunnel was silent except for my gurgling sips of air.

  “I cared about them,” Desmond said. His cold hand touched my face. “They were like family. I should have protected them.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  There was a rustling next to me and then Desmond had his arms under me, raising me up and cradling me against his chest, just like he had with Greta. “We’re gonna get out of here, Sam. I got an idea.”

  “How? How can…?” My voice trailed off as I hacked up more blood.

  “You still got that gun?”

  Amazingly, the Kimber was still in my hand. “Yeah.”

  “Aim down the tunnel and pull the trigger.”

  “What?”

  “Pull the trigger. Just once. Do it now.”

  I raised the Kimber and pulled the trigger. The sound was deafening against the tunnel walls, but the light from the muzzle flashed like a strobe light, providing an afterimage of the tunnel stretching out before us. The cement wall had cracks in it where Asa had pounded his fists to no avail. “Can you … bust through?”

  “Can’t go that way,” Desmond said. “Must be a couple of feet of concrete. Reinforced, I’d guess. That’s why Asa couldn’t bust through like he did under the club. No, we can’t go that way, but we can move on.”

  He took careful steps, so many that I lost count, and the sound of his shoes squelching through the mud echoed against the walls for hundreds of steps. “How far?”

  “We must be close to that bend in the tunnel,” Desmond said. “I made it past this point when Garski attacked. The air has a funny smell. Let’s go a piece, and then you pull the trigger again.”

  He carried me on, and after a few dozen steps, he stumbled.

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “Caught my foot against the rail. Hang on, Sam. We’re almost ready.”

  I nodded—or tried to—but I lacked the energy. “Say when.”

  “Wait. We don’t want no ricochet.”

  I pitched forward, almost to the ground, then came back up. “What was … that?”

  “Gonna throw something. Make sure there ain’t nothing in front of us.”

  He positioned me against his cold body, then loosened an arm to throw a small piece of concrete that clattered off into the distance. “Okay, pull the trigger.”

  I fired the Kimber again. The roar was still deafening, but this time I saw the tunnel ahead split in two different directions. “See that?”

  “Yeah,” Desmond said. He sniffed at the air. “Smells better to the left. Should be a couple hundred feet.”

  He carried me forward, his shoes still squelching. When we had gone what I estimated to be at least a hundred feet, he said, “Try again.”

  “You sure?”

  “I ain’t hearing no echo in front of us. Should be okay.”

  I nodded, even though he couldn’t see me, and fired again. This time, I had an image of the tunnel stretching out in front of us, but twenty or thirty feet to our left was some kind of protrusion from the wall. “What’s that?”

  “Looks like a steel door. Let’s hope it goes somewhere.”

  He carried me until we reached a point where he used my feet to bump against the wall. Instead of a thump, there was a clunk. “We found it.”

  “I’m gonna set you down. Just rest … and try not to die.”

  I didn’t want to tell him the burning in my lung had increased until it felt like someone was ramming a blowtorch into my insides. “Can you … open it?”

  He set me down on the tunnel floor, and there was the sound of fingers scraping against metal. “I found a handle, but it ain’t budging.”

  “Shit…”

  “Ain’t no door gonna stop me.” A shriek of bending metal came from above me, and then I heard the door slam to the ground to my right. “Told you no door was gonna stop me.”

  He bent over and picked me up, carrying me forward. We went a few feet and stopped. “There’s a wall in front of us.”

  “How can you tell?”

  “I can hear an echo back from my footsteps. I gotta put you down again.”

  When he set me down, I found myself against damp concrete instead of slime or mud.

  “I think it’s brick,” Desmond said. There was a crunch. “It’s brick. We’re gonna find out what’s on the other side.”

  I had heard my neighbor back in Arcanum tearing down a brick chimney. The brick had made a distinctive high-pitched scrape as it gave way, and so did the wall in front of Desmond. Then there was the sound of something screeching, followed by a crash. “What’s going … on?”

  “There was a metal rack in the way. We got light in front of us. Can you see it?”

  I raised my head. Sure enough, I could see the faint outline of a darkened room, lit by a red exit sign. “Where are we?”

  “A basement, I think. We’re gonna get you out of here.”

  “Desmond? I’m cold.” I stopped, hacked up blood, and wiped my lips with my shirtsleeve. “The silver … is killing me.”

  Desmond loomed over me, but he had a grin on his face, exposing his ivory fangs. “I got a plan for that, too, Sam. You’re gonna live. I guarantee it.”

  * * *

  Desmond left me in an alley behind a ten-story building. The sky was dark, and the air felt like a blast furnace after the cold, damp tunnel. I leaned against a dumpster and tried not to gag from the smell of trash and rotten food.

  Each breath was another excuse to spit up blood, and the harder I coughed, the more the bullet burned inside my lung.

  As I sat there, wondering if Desmond could possibly save my life, I tried to piece together what I knew about the day’s events.

  Henry brought us in on the missing men for a reason, but I have no idea why. Tessa Spurlock may or may not have something to do with it. Garski is a lunatic, and I don’t know why he took Callie. Sister Beulah and the Order might be working with Burzynski. The missing men have been sacrificed to do … something. And Callie’s body was covered in Angelic script.

  If only I knew how the pieces fit together.

  Footsteps approached, and Desmond appeared from around the corner. “C’mon, man. We got to get that bullet out of you.”

  I sh
ook my head. “I’m not—”

  He leaned over and hauled me to my feet. “Just a few minutes, Sam. Hang in there for a few more minutes.”

  He helped me to the end of the alley. When I couldn’t take another step, he lifted me gently and carried me against him. He had pulled my truck up onto the sidewalk, and he placed me in the passenger seat, where Callie usually rode.

  I tried to sit up and lean against the door, but the edges of my vision went black, and the last thing I saw was the black rubber floor mat rushing up to meet me.

  * * *

  I tried to open my eyes, but my eyelids felt like they were made of lead.

  A woman said, “I don’t know if I can do this.”

  I tried to place the voice but came up empty.

  “C’mon,” Desmond said. “You went to nursing school.”

  “This isn’t the same thing—”

  “He’s gonna die if you don’t take it out.”

  “He’s probably going to die anyway. Why is there smoke coming from the wound?”

  “It’s a silver bullet.”

  “Silver? He’s not a vampire—”

  “He ain’t like you, neither,” Desmond said.

  “At least tell me what happened.”

  “It was Garski.”

  “What about Greta?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone? That … that can’t be.”

  “I know you and her—”

  “You don’t … understand. She may have been your child, but she was my—”

  “I made her. That’s something you can’t understand.”

  “You’re right. But we had something together. It wasn’t the same type of thing, but it was real.”

  “I know.”

  “What about Elijah and Asa? Oh, God. Not them, too?”

  “Just … try and get that bullet outta him.”

  I groaned, but all that escaped my lips was a burbling gasp. When I managed to pry my eyes open, I was rewarded with the view of a wood-grained tabletop. Cold air blasted across my bottom, and I realized I was completely naked.

  “Hold still,” Desmond said. “Jordan’s gonna get you all fixed up. I hope.”

  “Nuhhhh.”

  “Don’t move,” the woman said.

  “Hurts.”

  “You got anything for the pain?”