by Gilmore, RM
I fought to escape my trap, to save my dying friend and the men still, by the grace of God, alive in the shed.
“A perfect blonde beauty,” Marienne boasted.
She practically floated along the dirt in her long dress. Her elegant fingers tapped along the back of Tatum’s head as she moved around the front of her, blocking my view. I stood there like a statue. Like Cyrus at the foot of the stairs. I’d bet my eyes were a putrid shade of zombie white too. Nothing would wake me from my trap until Azelie chose it to be so.
“Nearly makes amends for my gallons lost. Thanks to some tubby little cunt.” I could only assume she was talking about me and my death roll into what I now knew as her five-gallon buckets of blood. She fingered and fiddled around Tatum’s head, but her back blocked my view from the happenings at the body.
Oh God, the body.
You evil bitch, I screamed in silence. I’ll fucking rip your pretty little French head from your shoulders, I promised. Even if my tubby cunt ghost had to come back from the grave to do it, I’d kill that vampire snatch. My mouth still mumbled words that weren’t really words. Not to me anyway. To me, they were nothing but gibberish. To Azelie and Zorin d’Entremonte, they were the only thing keeping me from killing them. Or die trying.
Taking my soul from my body and replacing it with bits of her own, was punishment enough, leaving me like that for life would have been hell, but an expected form of payment for my misgivings. Worse than death itself. Forcing my hand to kill my best friend was so much more than punishment; it was pure unadulterated evil.
My heart thumped in my chest. Harder and harder. She spoke through my lips continuing to spew magic bullshit no different than before, but my body was doing something new. My fury was filling my core with hate. Hate that was far stronger than any voodoo turdling Azelie had to plop on me. I focused on that rage. Stroked it, petted it, and called it pretty.
“Death be damned,” Marienne said nonchalantly. She turned to face me, casually rubbing her hands across her face. Like it was cold cream, she applied Tatum’s blood to her aging skin. Droplets dripped to the high collar lace over her bust. White lace and blood was a mind altering visual.
“You’re looking a little worse for wear, darling.” She floated the few steps toward me. Unable to protest physically, I watched as she smeared Tatum’s blood across my forehead and over my mouth. The tangy copper flavor seeped onto my tongue as I jabbered on. “There we are. You’ll be good as new in no time. Let that sweet life seep into your skin.”
Hate boiled up my throat and stung my tonsils. I couldn’t swallow it back and it flowed up and out my lips in the form of vomit. My lips never stopped their cadence.
Covered in Tatum blood, voodoo goo, and vomit, while watching my friend die tied like an animal to a stake, if rage didn’t take over, sadness would, and I’d never come back from sadness that deep.
You’re all going to die, I thought. My hand squeezed the handle of the machete. Shock tingled my limbs. I’d done that. I didn’t know how, but I did it. I concentrated my fury down to one muscle – the strongest muscle in the human body. If I could force my tongue to stop fidgeting, even for a second, I could run that fucking blade through Marienne’s gut.
Tatum was totally limp, dangling lifelessly from her bindings. Her white bodice soaked through with blood. If I’d had control, I’d be sobbing while I killed every motherfucker in a ten-mile radius.
“So pretty.” Marienne gazed into my eyes and smiled, proud like a mother would. “Beauty fades and death is not too far behind. Youth and perfection come at a price.” Tatum’s blood was drying on her face, but I could see through the mask. The lines that edged her eyes had faded. Nearly disappeared completely. “A price not too steep for those willing to pay it.” She dabbed her index finger on the tip of my nose and giggled. “Now, where’s that delicious detective?” She glanced around, looking for him in the darkness around us, and left me standing there, helpless and covered in blood, to find Mike.
I was wrong, not everything was because of Azelie; it was because of Marienne. Her motive, having nothing to do with money apparently, was not my concern. Her demise was all I had in mind.
Stuck in my place in front of the gory mess I’d made, still rambling on with my new found magical soul in charge, I focused all my attention at the only thing my eyes could see. Zorin stood over Tatum, his back to the darkened woods. He watched me, his perfect blue eyes piercing through mine and into the soul wreaking havoc inside me. Something stirred behind him. Silent and unseen to anyone but me. I forced my consciousness, the only thing I had going for me, to concentrate on that motion in the dark beyond the death and trees in the forefront. A glint of something otherwise unseen appeared over his head a second before blood shot over the top of Tatum’s dead body and splattered across my face. His large form crumbled and fell to the dirt with a thump.
“Hello, Donnie.” Dominika smiled at me, flashing a set of fancy fangs I’d never noticed before. She used her foot on his body as leverage to heave a massive battle axe from his skull. It came out with a slurp and she slung it over her shoulder.
I never thought I’d be happy to see that woman in my life.
My heart sped with my newly found heaving chest. I breathed on my own. My lips still moved but the magic that kept me trapped was fading. I sensed a disturbance in the force.
Dominika whistled with two fingers in her mouth. The crack and creek of the shed door let me know the men were alive and well, and coming to my aid. With Zorin dead, nothing was keeping them on the floor. It was like she was calling a couple of dogs. Where she’d come from would have to be discovered later; we had assholes to kill.
My hand twitched and came up as if to wield the machete it still clenched, but I wasn’t doing it. Azelie still had control of my gross motor. Fuck.
“Dominika,” Marienne said surprised. “Thank the gods you’re here. You’ve come to my aid! An excellent Chancellor you are.” Marienne spread her arms wide to embrace the Hungarian badass with the axe.
“Fuck you,” she said and swung her battle axe in a full circle over her head and into Marienne’s gut.
If what I’d learned about these vampire people was true, it wouldn’t kill her and Dominika knew that. Maim and torture. I liked it.
The skinny alien guy leapt into action. Literally, he jumped on Dominika’s back and clung there like a lanky monkey. She shook her body but he didn’t budge. Naked Cyrus ran out, his bare ass a golden hue in the firelight. A fleeting glimpse as they all tumbled to the ground and out of sight. I felt like the fucking Tin Man. Oil can. Oil can.
Mike came trampling along, still cuffed, hands useless in a fight. He met my eyes, his twinkling in the flickering light behind me. My lips still moved and dripped blood and vomit.
“Dylan, wake up,” he begged. It was useless, but I couldn’t tell him that.
My hand was stuck in the air brandishing the machete. If he wasn’t careful, his head might meet Mr. Blade in a very unharmonious union. Oil can, I thought. Oil can, motherfucker.
His brows scrunched as if he was trying to figure out what I was thinking. He didn’t say a word; he just left me. Shuffling and scuffling, grunting and groaning, and I couldn’t see a fucking thing other than Tatum and Zorin dead and bleeding in the dirt. This must be hell. A lifetime of staring at your loved one dead. Decaying. What if she left us here for me to watch her die and turn to bones? There were a lot of stages between now and bones, and not one of them pretty no matter who the body belonged to.
My lungs filled with air and I gasped. Eyes widened and legs buckled as my soul was returned to its rightful owner. I’m back, bitches.
I wasted no time standing around in awe. I lifted my leg to move toward the last place I’d seen Azelie, but it didn’t want to work. I fell instantly. Machete jarred from my hand, it slid to Tatum’s limp legs. Once again, on my knees, I scurried toward the blood heap to fetch my killing thing. “I’m sorry,” my lip quivered, as I’d predicted, as I a
pologized for not completing my task.
“Dylan!” Mike yelled for me.
“I gotta go. Love you.” I scrambled to my feet and made way to save a friend that was still with the living.
He was lying in the dirt; hands behind his back, Azelie d’Entremonte straddled him. Her hands gripped his thick neck. She’d lost the horned mask at some point. Her long dreads hung down her bare back and trailed over his chest.
“Dylan!” Cyrus called from the other side of the fire pit.
He struggled to fight, being naked and all. Dominika was nowhere to be found. Alien guy had Cyrus in a choke hold from the rear. It was a pathetic sight to be had.
I was the only one with a weapon, clothes, and two hands. My saviors had become my damsels. Isn’t that about a bitch?
I couldn’t let them down. Not like I’d let Tatum down. I squashed my tears, forced them to wait until an appropriate moment to break down.
“I’ll be there,” I replied to the naked one. Why he was naked, why Mike was cuffed, where the fuck we were, all of the whys and hows and what the fucks would have to wait until after we were safe, home, and clothed. Oh and clean. And, not in a padded room. It would be a while.
My machete and I ran toward Mike and the evil little bitch that rode him like a demonic cowgirl. Her boobs bounced in his face as she struggled to force the life from him. She wasn’t shit without her magic. Just a shrimpy little cunt with bad hair and an affinity for dead things.
She didn’t see me coming. Not a demon from hell. Not a mythical beast. Not anything other than a human with a fancy set of spells and great tits.
Death to the whore!
I ran at them in a full sprint. My arm, my gut, my exhausted body, none of it hindered my momentum. I let out a menacing battle cry a breath before I swung my blade with the force of pure hatred.
The sharp blade sliced a chunk of dreads away before she caught my arm and stopped it from chopping her block off. Mike was free, but now I was in a pickle. And Cyrus…well…let’s not talk about his pickle.
She wasn’t stronger than me, only meaner, if you can believe that. And more spry. The little ones are wiry. She was up from Mike and in my face before I could make a plan B.
“You fat bitch!” she spat in my face. “Your soul is mine!”
“You’ll have to kill me first!” Puke and blood spewed from my lips and spattered onto her already mucked up face.
“If you insist.” Her hands gripped my forearms so tight I thought that maybe they’d pop right off.
“Fuck off!” I screamed, and spat blood and putrid bile into her open mouth. Her eyes grew wide. I reared my head back and let it slam into her face without hesitation. Never underestimate a properly executed head butt.
I knocked myself silly with it, but I knocked her on her ass, so I broke even. Mike was on his feet and at my side. I lifted my killing blade above my head. “This is for Tatum you hell cunt!” I screamed and ran her through.
The machete entered her gut with a squish, like a fist jammed in wet pasta. Her eyes locked on to mine. “You will always be with me,” she grunted.
I smiled and turned the blade a half turn to drive it home. Blood pooled at the corners of her mouth and I knew death was near. Her breaths became ragged. Shorter and shorter with each exhale until finally it sputtered to a stop.
I was on my knees straddling her. The last time I’d been on top of her, I was pummeling the shit out of her face. She’d healed nicely over the span of a day. There was not a sign of a struggle under all that war paint and barf.
“For Tatum. For them all,” I whispered and shoved the blade through her body and into the dirt below.
I stood and blood began to seep into the dirt around her body. I took a move from Dominika and used my foot in the center of her body to pull the machete from its home. Taking one last glance, I half expected her to get up, to fight harder, like in the movies. They were not really dead the first go around. She never moved.
I didn’t acknowledge Mike before I moved on to the other bad guys. If I did, if I so much as met his eyes, I’d crack. I’d fall apart, and I wouldn’t come back. I’d let it happen eventually, but not yet. There was more to be done.
I tromped past dead Zorin and bloody Tatum around the fire. I kicked Malcolm’s head for fun, but didn’t stop to play. I had a mission. Cyrus and his pickle were winning the fight with alien guy. I’d seen how strong he could be; he could murder this asshat. Shit, I almost did it myself without a weapon.
Enough screwing around.
Cyrus held the skinny thing by his Riff Raff pony-nub at the back of his head, and swung him around; away from his nakedness and all that came along with it. I swung my blade, one fluid motion, all the strength I had left in me, and lopped the alien head clean off. It dangled from its nub from Cyrus’s clenched hand.
Cyrus looked at me like he was looking at some kind of monster instead of a woman he was about to fuck hours before. Good.
Dominika came stumbling from the dark; blood covered her hands. She was hurt, limping atop a set of seriously high heels, but the blood on her hands wasn’t hers. Judging by the axe that hung loosely at her side, she’d finished the job with Marienne. I didn’t ask. I just took it from her. She let it slide from her hands. No protest, no annoying banter. Something had changed in our dynamic over the span of a weekend. A mutual respect had been found.
Axe in hand, I stood over Azelie and watched her blank eyes stare at nothing. I positioned myself so they were staring into mine. Dead or not, I wanted to look into her eyes as I took her precious head. She and her vampire cronies had ruined my life. Fucked with the lives of people I loved. Taken lives, all in a quest for vanity and money. Surely, regardless of Marienne’s statements about youth and beauty, money had to be involved. So much blood, so many lives taken, one vampire’s vanity could not be the motivator of so much destruction.
“After tonight, I will never think of you again. Your power over me is officially renounced. I will continue to live this life, whatever it takes, however it may change, and not one moment of it will be spent in fear.” I raised the axe above my head. “Go to hell, bitch.” One swing and it was done. It didn’t roll away. It didn’t start singing a little tune. It just sat there. Slightly detached. She was dead. I was free.
“At some point,” I said blankly, “someone is going to tell me what the fuck just happened. Until then, I’m fucking hungry and I need a beer.”
Blood still covered my face. My exposed chest was wet with sweat, blood and spew. My shirt was gone. My friend was gone. True thought at that point, stopping for even a moment to comprehend the nature of the situation, and I’d break. Primal needs only for the time being. Food, sleep, shelter. I’d beheaded more people than one person should in a lifetime. And I wanted a burger. Was that so much to ask?
Dominika smiled at Cyrus and looked him up and down, taking in his God given gifts. For once, I didn’t really care. “Well, I’m a bit peckish myself.”
“Maybe we should call the police?” Mike said idiotically.
Everyone turned to glare at him. “Who’s this idiot?” Dominika asked, jamming a thumb in his direction.
I shook my head. I didn’t have words. If I did, they weren’t any I wanted to say yet. We weren’t done, not by a long shot. Headless bodies were strewn about, blood soaked the dirt under our feet, and the scene was straight from a horror flick. Unlike a movie, I’d likely be locked up for life and the boys would get the chair. As much as Mike wanted to believe in his precious judicial system, it wouldn’t work in our favor here. It was time to believe in something bigger and more deadly than a bench and a gavel, and twelve angry men.
The four of us stood in a circle. No one spoke. Mike’s face was drawn, sad, and forever changed. He looked like he’d gained a dozen years during his time in the shed. His gun and badge would never hold the same weight. His heart would always know there were things in the dark, cruel and inhuman things, which a piece of tin and a bullet couldn’t
stop. Cyrus, naked as a jaybird and not the least bit modest, looked as though he had the weight of the world tossed onto his shoulders. His perfect green eyes were dark and pensive, seemingly lost in thought. Dominika, smiling and adjusting her boobs under her cobalt blue corset, seemed the least affected. I didn’t blame her; not one of us meant a shit to her. Why should a few decapitated bodies make a difference?
Cyrus nodded in her direction, expression assertive and contented. “Secondus,” he said. The one word rang through the silence and perked up my ears.
She lowered her head to him, “Primus.”
Well, I’ll be damned. Again.
Chapter Fifteen
I didn’t bother prodding about the Primus thing. It made sense, on a fucked-up occult type level. I’d ask later. Everything would come later. We were losing the cover of darkness fast, and still had a few homicides to cover up. Lopping off heads was messy. The bad guys were dead and any chance of accurately getting to the bottom of things went with the heads of our villains; though worth the kill, a disheartening revelation.
A roaring fire already in place, acted as an excellent evidence killer. We tossed each body in, one by one. Well, after we salvaged the alien guy for pants and shoes. No naked men outside this ring of trees and dark, no exceptions. When we stripped him down, it was obvious he was missing an important member. My original confusion as to its sex was actually correct. Cyrus used the word eunuch and I didn’t ask for more.
My body was numb. It was either that or complete mental breakdown. My brain, too full of nonsense to fight it, followed Mike’s instructions like an obedient lapdog. Really, who better to execute a body cleanup than a police detective? I stayed in my bra; modesty went out the window when you slaughtered your best friend, and thankfully neither of the men that’d I’d nearly fucked earlier, gave my big boobs a second glance. I’d used Marienne’s fancy lace skirt to wipe as much shit off my face as possible without running water and turpentine. It still stunk, but not as bad as the scent of burning flesh.