The Chariot: Brothers at Arms

by Desiree Lee

  Michelle was still asleep at Julio's house because her bed wouldn't arrive until the rest of the house did.

  Julio was up long before dusk. He was sitting in his dining room, staring at the tarot card. According to Michelle, the rest of the House was due to arrive any day now. He wondered what they'd be like. He particularly wondered about François. The conversation with Luke replayed in his head like a broken record. François started the war. François is the reason that the vampires fight. Pierre wants to end it all. Thoughts of a solution to this age-old dilemma constantly filled Julio's mind.

  Julio took more trips to the home improvement store than necessary. He used them as an excuse to get away from Michelle for even short periods of time. The fact that she would not even consider looking at a different perspective on the war bothered him. She emphatically insisted that François was not the cause of the war and would not budge. He supposed there was something to be said about taking a stand and sticking to it, but he had hoped she would at least hear him out. It angered him when she had accused him of defending Luke.

  As Julio reminisced on the events of the past few days, mused on the affairs of the vampires and tried to make sense of it all, his head began to hurt. He'd managed to avoid speaking with Luke, not yet giving the vampire the answer on whose side he had chosen. He wanted nothing more than for this all to end so he could go on with his life. What life was that? The security job paid decently but was usually boring. Michelle had not come between him and his artwork when he had asked for time alone to finish the Evelia piece. So she was testy with him when he brought up the subject of François, could he really blame her? After all, these brothers had been feuding for 250 years. Did Julio really expect them to drop it so easily?

  "They've been fighting for so long, they probably don't know what else to do instead. Even if they found peace, it would be hard to manage. They are so accustomed to opposition,” he murmured under his breath. He returned the card to the place he stored it for safekeeping. He'd made a decision. He had to try to talk to them somehow. He had to try to get these vampires to quit fighting. If the stories Michelle had told him about past battles were true, St. Petersburg was about to get a whole lot bloodier.

  He left the house while it was still daylight and drove past the house that he'd been helping Michelle with for the past few days. He saw the trucks and the bustle of activity in and out of the house. He couldn't help but wonder how they got the key, but then remembered that Michelle had not used a key to get in to his house. Must be some sort of vampire power, he surmised. Or maybe she left them a spare key under the mat or in the flower pot. It didn't matter how they got in, what was important now was that they were here. He wondered if Pierre's House had arrived yet.

  He had not admitted to Michelle that he knew where Luke had established Pierre's new residence at. It was not far from François', only a few blocks. Julio had questioned the rationality of the two warring brothers living in close proximity, but it was not his place to tell the vampires where to move to. It was their decision, not his. He drove over by Pierre's new house and saw the trucks in front of it also. They had made equally good time. This was interesting. Maybe Luke was right. Maybe it didn't matter really who got there first, but the choice was Julio's. It wasn't a matter of timeliness, but of who swayed the Keeper first. Which would it be, Michelle with her glorious body or Luke with his cool, unflappable sagacity? Either way he would have to decide soon. The day had arrived. The vampires were here.

  He went back home and heard water running in the bathroom. The bedroom door was open and the blanket was not on the bed. Michelle had apparently made her way to the shower by herself. So much for having time to think of what to say to her before she woke up. Instead, Julio waited patiently for her to get out of the bathroom.

  Just after sunset, she emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed, although her hair was still damp.

  "They're here,” Julio blurted out. He didn't mean to say it so bluntly but his mouth moved before his thought process did.

  "How do you know?"

  "I saw the trucks at the house and saw people moving things inside."

  "We have to go over right away."

  "They won't come here?"

  "I think François would expect us to come there instead. He will want me to deliver the Keeper to him."

  "What am I now, a pizza?” Julio raised an eyebrow.

  "Mmmm yes, with a big pepperoni!” She gave a deliberate glance to Julio's crotch and smirked.

  Julio was stunned. Did Michelle just make a dick joke? With as snippy as she had been the past few days, a teasing joke was the last thing he expected from her.

  "Sorry.” She looked away from him since he didn't laugh at her jest.

  "You surprised me,” he admitted. The corners of his lips curled upward in to a small grin. “So, you like pepperoni pizza?"

  "To be honest, I've never eaten a real pepperoni pizza.” With another glance at his crotch she said, “I do like your ‘pepperoni’ though."

  Julio's grin broadened. “Yeah it sure likes you too.” He wouldn't lie about that. Their romp had definitely pleasured him. He had assumed it was a fluke, but apparently he had made an impression on her.

  "You should clean up a bit before we go over,” she advised. “Your hair is a mess."

  Julio paused. She'd changed the subject so quickly that it took him a moment to catch up. Apparently the teasing innuendos were at a close. He ran his fingers through his thick, ebony hair and nodded. “I suppose I could drag a brush through it.” He walked to the bathroom without another word, brushing his hair and putting on some more deodorant. Knowing the vampire olfactory senses were keen, he chose not to use cologne. He then went into the bedroom and changed his shirt to a less rumpled one.

  When he came back out, Michelle was standing at the door, ready to go. As soon as she saw him she opened the door and walked out. Julio followed and turned to lock the door behind him. He heard Michelle gasp and turned to look.

  A sleek, black car bearing California license plates pulled up in front of the house.

  "Julio, go back inside, now.” Michelle instructed. Her voice was serious, brooking no argument.

  Julio did not obey. He stood staring at the car, watching the doors open and four people get out of it. One of them was Luke. “I take it that isn't the welcome wagon?"

  "Not the one we wanted. Go back in, now. Do as I say,” her tone was more urgent.

  Julio unlocked the door again and stepped through. He had noted the solemn expressions on the faces of the four who got out of the car. They were not here to make pleasantries. He drew the curtain back an inch or so and peeked out. The four walked up the driveway, approaching Michelle. He had to give her credit. She had guts to stand up to the four of them. Julio felt a pang of guilt at leaving her outside to fend them off alone. He remembered what she told him when she arrived. Vampires are stronger than humans. He would be no match for one of them, much less four. He couldn't help but stay close enough to eavesdrop.

  "Play time is over, Michelle,” Luke stated as they reached the porch. “I chose to let you think you had him. It is time to face the music."

  "Bullshit, Luke. I was here first, I claimed him. If you chose not to fight me for him, it just shows your own lack of balls.” She maintained her cool, defiant demeanor, even though inside it felt wrong to stand up to Luke that way. She knew he had balls, both literally and figuratively. Once upon a time, well, more than once, she had cupped those balls in her hand, fondling them gently. She had caressed them, evoking moans of pleasure from Luke. Now she felt like kicking him in those same-said balls. How could he still be doing this? How could he be standing here in front of her, trying to take what was rightfully hers?

  As if reading her mind, Luke grinned salaciously. “I remember the days when you loved to play with my balls. I still recall the feel of your tongue on them."

  Julio's eyes widened as he heard that. He gave a momentary thought of what it would fe
el like to have Michelle's tongue slaking his balls and his body reacted accordingly. His dick began to harden and he found it difficult to concentrate on the vampires outside. He wanted them to just leave so that he could pull Michelle back in to his bedroom and find out just how good her tongue was.

  If Michelle could have blushed, she would have. Much to her credit, she did not break her poise. “That is ancient history, Luke."

  "Silence,” another one of the vampires held up his hand. He stepped in front of Luke and stared intently at Michelle. “Luke has been more than gracious while awaiting my arrival. Let this not come to bloodshed. You can see that you are outnumbered and overpowered, Michelle. Stand aside and I give my word you will not be harmed."

  "Your word is nothing to me, Pierre.” Michelle's ire swelled up inside her. How dare he think she would just abandon her charge? She knew very well that Pierre was the last man she ought to be challenging. He could easily sweep her aside without a second thought, but she refused to back away from her duty. She had to protect the Keeper until François arrived. She had to.

  "My word,” the tall man iterated, “is more valuable than any gold or diamond for it is truth! My ... brother,” he nearly spat the word, “has kept his thralls entangled in a web of deceit for two and a half centuries. It ends here. I will have this Keeper. I give you one more chance to stand aside and let me pass."

  Julio tried not to smirk at the mental picture of the scene in Lord of the Rings where Gandalf stands up to the balrog on the bridge. He imagined Michelle standing there, wizard staff in hand, clapping it to the ground and denying Pierre the passage.

  "Over my dead body,” she vehemently replied.

  Julio's voice strangled inside his throat. He saw Pierre raise his hand as if to strike her, but his protest would not come. He held his breath as he saw Pierre's action suddenly halt, hand held aloft. All vampires turned their gaze to another car that had just pulled up in front of where Pierre's was parked.

  A man identical in size and feature to Pierre stepped out. “Unhand her, Pierre!” He bellowed as he strode quickly across the lawn.

  "I have not touched her! You are too late, François! As you see I am at the Keeper first. Take your insolent whelp and go. You have lost."

  Julio opened the door and grabbed Michelle by the back of the shirt, trying to pull her in to the house for safety. She stumbled, not expecting that as her concentration was on Pierre and not on Julio. As she tumbled backward in to the house, Luke seized the opportunity and rushed in after her. The other vampires quickly followed.

  In hindsight, Julio knew it had been a mistake to open the door. It was too late now. The vampires were all standing in his living room, staring each other down. Michelle shot a harsh glance to Julio but did not admonish him in front of the rest. She had more pressing issues on her mind and also thought that if she were to yell at him, Julio would feel emasculated and the whole spiel would end up backfiring on her. Now was not the time to lose her temper. She had to keep her cool above all else.

  Julio had sense enough to back away from the collective of vampires. He inched toward the kitchen, hoping they wouldn't notice his retreat.

  "I was here first François. Luke arrived after I did. He did not even fight me for the Keeper,” Michelle stated calmly. “This city is ours by all rights."

  François and Pierre both looked at her. They bore identical expressions. Their faces looked like mirror images of one another. If they hadn't been wearing different clothing, it would have been all but impossible to tell which brother was François and which was Pierre.

  Pierre spoke first. “Is this true, Luke?"

  "I chose the route of diplomacy,” Luke replied coolly. “For that I gained only disdain and scorn. Michelle has tainted her House by defiling the Keeper."

  Defiling? Julio wondered at his choice of words but remained silent.

  Michelle narrowed her eyes at Luke. The blond vampire continued talking, his hair falling in front of his eyes haphazardly. “She slept with him to try to persuade him to choose her side."

  Michelle lost it. “That's a fucking lie!” she bellowed. The rest of the vampires erupted in to noisy chaos, some defending Michelle, some berating her.

  Julio was surprised at her outburst. He didn't think she was the type to drop F-bombs. He stood in the kitchen doorway, eyeing the scene warily. He fully expected one of them to start fighting soon. Deep down, he was glad that he had put his lava lamp away in the closet days ago. He knew it was cheesy, but he really liked it.

  He saw one vampire get knocked down, landing with a hard thud. He thought it was crazy before with all of the yelling, but now it was complete bedlam. Some vampires were using fists, some were using telekinetic powers against each other. Julio twitched, wanting to help somehow but help who? Michelle seemed to be holding her own against a female from Pierre's house. Pierre and François were locked together in what looked like a stare-down but Julio surmised that they were battling with some sort of mental power.

  Julio grimaced as one vampire put his fist through a wall. He made a mental note of which vampire did it, even though he didn't know the vampire's name. He'd ask him later to pay for the repair cost.

  The brawl was much different than the typical bar fight. The air was nearly electrified with the prodigious displays of power. Even Julio could feel it, like an eerie miasma infecting the room. He did well enough to stay out of the fracas. He could not help but be transfixed by the sight. This is better than anything I could get on pay-per-view, he thought.

  Growls, snarls, grunts and gasps mingled in chorus with claps and smacks. One short, stocky vampire rammed a lanky blond with his shoulder, breaking his ribs with a telltale snap. Julio saw another take a punch to the nose, obviously breaking it. The vampire's blood spattered across the floor in a crimson mist. So vampires can bleed. Good to know.

  He barely noticed the door opening until he heard a voice calling him. “Julio, what is going on—” His mother's voice was cut short as a startled vampire turned and immediately leveled a telekinetic blast toward her. Lenore's body jolted and she collapsed to the ground.

  Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. Julio tried to call out to his mother to tell her to go back outside but the words did not come fast enough. He saw her fall and each second it took to cross the room to her seemed like an eternity. “Mom! MOM!!” Julio knelt beside his mother's lifeless form, vainly checking for a pulse.

  The fighting ended abruptly. Each vampire stared aghast at the dead mortal. The one who had blasted her trembled in fear, eyes darting wildly as the rest backed slowly away from him, leaving him alone in the center of the room. He'd broken a cardinal rule of vampire combat. He'd involved an innocent. Even worse, he'd killed her.

  Julio's grief swiftly turned to rage. He stood up and rushed the solitary vampire, tackling him to the ground. He didn't even think about the fact that the vampire was far stronger and more powerful than he. Julio was driven solely by hatred. “You motherfucking, cock-sucking, son-of-a-bitch! You killed her! You fucking killed her!” Julio balled his hands in to solid fists and leveled angry blows at the vampire's face. The sound of bone fracturing as his blows collided with the vampire's cheekbone was unmistakable. Julio did not let up. “You fucking killed her!” he repeated, over and over. His punches grew more vehement. His other hand grabbed the vampire by the neck, slamming his head backward. The back of the vampire's skull split as it cracked against the terrazzo floor. Julio still did not relent. His grip on the vampire's throat tightened until his fingers pushed through the cold flesh. He jerked his hand back quickly, yanking out the vampire's larynx, then dropped it on the floor next to his battered skull.

  The adrenaline waned and Julio finally crashed. His hoarse voice was reduced to nothing but sobs. He gave the vampire's head a few more token slams against the floor before finally letting go. He finally looked down at his handiwork and saw that above the neck, the vampire was nothing more than bloody pulp and fragments of bone.


  He took a deep breath and stood up, looking at the other vampires. His own blood trailed from the knuckles of his right hand, raw from pummeling the vampire. The vampire's blood dripped from the fingers of his left hand. His eyes were bloodshot, pupils dilated. His entire body trembled from a mixture of fatigue and madness. “Get the fuck out before I kill every motherfucking last one of you fucking vampires!"

  In his apoplectic fit, Julio had not noticed François pick up his mother and lay her gently on the sofa, tucking a throw pillow under her head and arranging her hands, crossed over her stomach. Now François stepped forward and spoke calmly, unafraid. “I am sorry. Grady overstepped his bounds. Under vampire law, you had the right to take your revenge and so you were permitted that.” François gave a glance down at the deceased vampire. “You have killed the one responsible for her death. Any further would be against our law."

  "Do you think I give a flying fuck about your law?” Julio growled. “My mother is fucking dead! I didn't ask for your war. I didn't want your war. I didn't ask to be a Keeper. You,” he pointed to François, “and You,” he pointed to Pierre, “just need to fucking get over yourselves! How many more people have to die for your fucking squabble? Her blood is on your hands! Your hands!"

  "Your mother is dead and I sorely regret that,” François continued. “If I had the power to change it, I surely would. Alas, vampires cannot resurrect those who have already passed. You lost your mother and I lost my fledgling.” He gave another glance toward Grady's corpse. “Our account is even, though I know you do not see it that way. You are mortal, human. Your emotions are still your guiding factor."

  "Sounds to me like your emotions started this fucking war. All because you couldn't fucking keep it in your pants, my mother, this guy here,” he kicked Grady's body, “and who knows how many more before this, are fucking dead."

  François stiffened but did not say anything. A soft murmur rippled through the throng of vampires. Pierre stepped forward, standing parallel to his brother, though several feet away. “I offer my House's condolences to you.” He then looked at his twin. “Let us call a truce this night, François. We will observe the mourning period for her."