by CD Brown
“He’s a possum.”
“Whatever. He’s a good dude, even for a were-thingy.”
“He is. But …” She didn’t know why that word came to her mouth, but Tamar seemed like she did.
“Don’t even think it, chica. None of us can.”
Tamar looked straight ahead, reassembling the armor around her face. Sophia decided to do the same, even if she didn’t feel she was as mentally strong as her friend.
Located on Santa Monica Boulevard far from Hollywood and its Walk of Fame, this stark brick building looked more warehouse than club. A faded sign indicated it was probably a theater at one point but had been repurposed for rock music. The place was east of Western, a very industrial and, this late, very deserted section of the city. The only traffic on the street was an occasional car and scantily dressed women.
“Are those girls prostitutes?” Sophia had a quick flash back to her professional days, always feeling lucky she never had to walk the street.
“Yes, but they ain’t girls.” Alpha suppressed a laugh while Tamar punched his shoulder.
“How you know about them trannies?”
“Everybody knows about them. You act like I frequent the place.”
“Can it, you two. Steve’s moving in.”
Steve wasn’t alone. They had decided he would wait for others to show, then he would make his move inside. He would be all alone in there, but Sophia didn’t want him to look it. Sophia stared at her phone, bud in a single ear so she could hear as well as see.
The camera showed a buff dude, hair straight up and biceps rippling out of a sleeveless shirt, staring at a clipboard. Sophia guessed he must be a human employee or possibly a thrall.
“Name.”
“Ravnos.”
“Where the hell did he get that?” Sophia watched the guy check the list.
“It’s from Vampire: The Masquerade.” Maisie, who was there to coordinate and not necessarily to fight, sounded like everyone should know this. When Sophia, Tamar and Alpha had looks that said they didn’t, she said, “It’s a role playing game. He thought it was apropos for the scenario.”
“Ain’t no game, man.” Alpha sounded angry. “Boy better step it up.”
“Doesn’t matter. He’s in.” Sophia was having trouble adjusting to Steve’s constant movement. The back and forth made her seasick. But her comfort wasn’t the point here.
The sound in the club rang through the camera’s mic, a relatively low level of punk records more for background than for show. As Steve pushed his way along, jarring at every step through a cloud of empty clothes, Sophia caught Tamar’s eyes.
“There must be a bunch of them.”
Tamar studied her phone. “With the size of the club, can’t be enough to take over the city.”
“But more than enough to give us trouble. Yeah.” Sophia clenched her fists. “We’re outnumbered, even if we are better fighters.”
Steve went to the bar, grabbing a clear plastic cup filled with blood from the six lines set out.
“That’s a good move.” Alpha pointed at the screen. “He abstain, he gonna stick out.”
They all heard Steve gasp as he took a sip.
“It’s human,” he whispered. “And so damn fresh.”
Sophia held up the microphone part of the ear buds. “Stay focused. Say the Serenity Prayer in your head.”
The camera bobbed as Steve couldn’t help but nod at the order. Alpha scoffed, “Focus, bruh!”
The camera lifted as Steve stood tall. Now he seemed ready to mingle. He had come to a full stop.
“Are you Myra?” Steve’s voice sounded giddy, maybe like he was trying to fanboy her.
“Yeah.” Sophia heard the voice and knew it was the right one. The clothes certainly were. “Looks like Hot Topic got all your money.”
“Hey!” Maisie put her hand over her mouth after shouting out. “Horton found that shirt at an Out of the Closet.”
“I may be fresh to the scene, but that doesn’t mean I’m not excited.” They all nodded at Steve’s comeback. Maybe he could recover.
“Talk to me, like, the third time you come out here.” Myra’s clothes sashayed away, the camera holding to the back of the very skimpy denim shorts.
“Eyes up, Stevie. Keep your male gaze in check.” As Sophia barked the order, he quickly straightened.
And so it went with all the groups Steve tried to talk to, his inner frat boy shining through the punk armor. As the band came on and the mosh pit formed up, Sophia pulled the buds from her ears.
“This is pointless. And this music gives me a headache.” She paused to see Tamar bobbing her head. At least someone was having fun. “Let’s get him out of there.”
“Whoa!” They heard Steve shout and all eyes rushed to screens. Stalking onto the stage was a lean set of clothes, someone a little over six foot. The band pulled back, the guitarist going to one knee. Whoever this was, this was the guy.
The crowd chanted his name while Sophia listened close to pick it up. Four syllables. “Jurevicious?”
Maisie nodded. “That’s what they’re saying.”
Jurevicious’ two flannel arms raised up and the crowd went wild. He creeped like a panther looking to strike, each step fluid but calculated. Even Sophia felt fear’s pinprick. Finally, he approached the mic.
“Say it with me. We own the night!”
At this signal, the whole room dropped into sync, chanting their war cry at full lung. Steve did his best to join them, overpowering the ears of those outside. But as the crowd quieted, the observers focused on this new leader.
“Brothers and sisters, the long night shall soon be upon us, that time where we will rise from the underground and show the daywalkers who really rules this town. They deny our presence, pretend we don’t exist. Every night they dream us away, as if we were some nightmare deep within their tiny brains. But we shall wake them up, children. We’ll show them the truth, that while they walk the day, we own the night!”
“At least he’s confident.” Tamar smiled at her joke, but Sophia shushed her.
“And not only will we own the night. We’ll own the world!” The crowd erupted in the chant, some of the punks creating a quick mosh pit as they jumped on each other to the beat. But Jurevicious raised his arms again, this time to quiet the crowd. “Hold, children, hold. We are here to party tonight, to celebrate our coming together to bring the revolution about. But while we are fierce and unbeatable, we are no longer secret. Yes, other so-called vampires, the ones who form committees and study groups, they have found us out. Do we fear them?”
As the crowd yelled out a negative, Sophia sprang to her feet. “We’ve been made. We have to get in there.”
She kept her eye on the monitor as the others sprinted across the street. Jurevicious pointed at Steve who turned to run to the door. The camera vibrated out of focus as he fought off the hands of everyone surrounding him. Sophia put her phone in her pocket and whooshed across the street when she heard Jurevicious yell, “Let’s show these fools who’s in charge!”
Tamar and Alpha struggled with the obviously locked door when Sophia arrived. Barely pausing for those two to clear a path, Sophia put all her strength into a kick right below the doorknob. The metal door bent at the point of impact and the hinges cracked as they were pulled from the wall. Although only twenty of her people were there, all were Bomb Squad or Muertos. Knowing she had the toughest fighters behind her, Sophia led the charge into the ballroom.
They entered to find a wall of vampires with Steve on his knees out front. Beyond them, Jurevicious, pale and whip thin with a six-inch mohawk at full attention on top of his head, stood on stage, arms folded and a smile closer to a snarl on his face. Sophia looked into Steve’s eyes to see abject fear. Right before she could say anything, those eyes turned to ash as Myra drove a stake into his back. The pillowy remains floated to the floor in a terrified silence as the invaders realized the Own The Night crowd had taken the fight to the next level.
> Myra broke the silence. Her war cry pierced the silence while she pointed the stake directly at Sophia’s chest. The two groups closed the gap between them, the melee like two giant waves crashing together.
Sophia charged at Myra, ready to rip the punk’s head off. She hadn’t felt this level of rage since she’d seen Chip fall to the werewolves in New Orleans. Even Whaloosie hadn’t pissed her off this much.
Myra’s fighting style was direct. She led with the stake, figuring the wooden weapon would somehow intimidate Sophia. As the younger vamp stabbed, Sophia grabbed her wrist, twisting until she heard the cracking of bones. Myra dropped to her knees as Sophia pressed toward the floor.
“You’re strong when you have numbers, when you have surprise. But one on one? You’re nothing.” Sophia let the anger boil over as she tore the stake from Myra’s hand.
Myra’s face winced with pain, but also defiance. “I’m a servant, but my master will never surrender.”
“Y’all love the darkness so much, have it permanently.” But as she raised the stake to finish Myra, someone struck her from behind, enabling Myra to crawl through the legs of other vamps pitched in battle. “Dammit!” Sophia drove the stake into the back of the male vamp who’d tackled her, dispatching him to dust.
Sophia stood to assess the battle. She had been right about the numbers being too much, but only two on her side were gone while the Own The Night side had been cut in half. Myra was on the stage next to Jurevicious, shaking her hand while the tendons and bones knitted back together. Jurevicious backhanded her, sending her scuttling along the floor. He turned to the melee, obviously looking for Sophia.
She decided to make herself obvious, taking a few steps back then vaulting herself onto the stage by using the shoulders of a Muerto. She landed on her feet, then immediately crouched into a fighting stance.
“You do know that this is only our Hollywood contingent.” Jurevicious’ voice was suave up close.
“So?”
“So we are massing a true army. Your small victory in this battle won’t stop the war. Not by a long shot.”
“But you made one mistake.”
“I’m sure I’ve made many, but what might you be talking about?”
“You showed up.” Sophia sprang at that moment, but all she caught was a handful of mist. The smoky cloud of Jurevicious slipped through a vent in the ceiling. Sophia wheeled around as Myra rushed her. Like a matador, Sophia stepped to the side, grabbed Myra by her denim jacket and threw her into the crowd.
When she got to her feet, Myra led the rest of her people out a back door, emptying the place within seconds. Sophia told Tamar and Alpha to stand down as the fight was over for now. While the Muertos and Bomb Squad vamps cleaned themselves up, Sophia went over to the microphone. The smell was faint, but she could pick it up, a leafy muskiness left behind by Jurevicious. She inhaled as much as she could while waving over Tamar.
“I’ve got a scent. I’m going to track him.”
“Don’t go alone.”
“I won’t do anything stupid. I’ll see you at the center tomorrow.” She concentrated as she shrunk to bat form, flying out the door she had crushed a short time ago.
Chapter Seventeen
The trail didn’t lead too far away from the club, at least for someone who was flying. Sophia nearly lost him over the heart of Hollywood, where so many smells—human, booze, garbage, car exhaust—filled the air to brimming. But as she moved towards the line of hills and Griffith Park, those pollutants cleared and Jurevicious’ scent became so clear it could have been highlighted in yellow.
The tracking did lead to the park, just over the line of green separating residential from pastoral and, somewhat surprisingly to Sophia, close to the famous Hollywood sign. She landed in a parking lot where a sign indicated she was near the Bronson Caves. The trail was clear even in her human form.
This part of the park had less grass and more path, so the stone parts of the mountains were extra exposed. Each had big cracks and a series of niches, caves she guessed for lack of a better word. One was a taller tunnel that looked familiar for some reason.
Luckily, she had been dressed for a fight, so she had the correct apparel for tromping through the dusty trails. But she didn’t have to get dirty, as she found the crack in the rock which Jurevicious chose as his home.
“You can come out,” she called. “Whether you want to fight or not is up to you.”
The spiky-haired vamp—his ‘do a craggy mess after all the transforming, flying, and scrambling—scuttled out and dusted himself. His face remained in a feral state. “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want to do.”
“I don’t doubt that. But you want to kill my friends and I won’t stand for it.”
“You? The one who denies your predatory nature?” Jurevicous spat on the ground. “You may be older, but I’ll have no trouble destroying you.”
“With what? Your body odor?”
“What?” Jurevicious looked like he didn’t know what a joke was, much less had heard one in ten years.
“It means you underestimate me.”
“But I won’t tolerate your presence.” His claws were already out, so he charged Sophia. He zipped up to her, but she easily sidestepped him. He turned, dropping into a crouch. “Okay, you’re quick. Can you throw a punch?”
“I said you’re free to fight. I want to find out what the hell you think you’re doing.” She tamped down her feelings about Steve, about all the unnecessary bloodshed. She needed to figure out a way to stop all of them, not just him.
“I’m taking the next step. We’re taking this world from these weaker beings.”
“All you have is a catchphrase and a look. Granted it’s a good look…”
Jurevicious sprang at her chest, but Sophia jumped up and over his attack. He turned and swiped right-left, right-left, saying, “I’ll break your bones like my army did your minion,” but she kept sliding away, goading him with a smile on her face.
With that she stopped and let him close. As he swiped with his right claw, she raised her open hand and struck under his chin, sending him ten feet in the air and tumbling back fifteen yards. Her lips tightened as she said, “You’ll pay for Steve. Don’t worry about that.”
As he stood, he now laughed. Apparently, violence was the only thing funny to him. “You are a real vampire. Nice to finally meet you.”
“It’s simple, sweetheart. You don’t have the numbers to take over the vampire committee, much less the whole city. You talk big but can’t back up your words. And your precious followers will get tired of it and move on.”
“Vampire committee! You sound like the daywalkers.”
“And you sound like a nutbag.” Sophia dropped into a fighting stance. “Now it’s time to make you pay.”
Jurevicious readied himself, but he wasn’t ready for her. He blocked her cuts, but Sophia moved like a tornado, swirling around the vamp with so many small strikes while he went for the knockout blows. He’d obviously never fought someone as powerful as her. With a kick to the back of his knee, she shredded all the muscles and brought him to the ground. She drove her boot into the back of his neck, cracking the spine. He would heal, but not before she got the final blow. She turned him over.
“Your dream dies tonight.”
Jurevicious was laughing again, even as his body wouldn’t respond to his mental commands. “Her plan worked. You think I’m the head.”
“Her plan?” Did he mean Myra? Or someone else she hadn’t met? “Who’s in charge? Who do we need to stop?”
But he only laughed, not stopping until Sophia severed his head.
The hours were getting shorter, but she was exhausted. The fight meant she had little strength to go bat or vapor form again. She phoned Jeremiah, who promised to come get her. Her phone said dawn would be in three hours. Luckily, this late at night even L.A. traffic wouldn’t take that long.
She stooped and sat on a concrete stopper in the parking lot. Had that been the plan
all along? Get her away from her allies and trap her away from home? And who exactly was pulling the strings here? Was it all a trap from the beginning, starting with finding the subsite? If so, they had all been outflanked.
But this endgame seemed like a dream, something unreachable, like Nesbit and his damn sunsuit. Then again, most vamps thought she was the crazy one swearing off human blood. “Well,” she thought, “at least my delusions of grandeur don’t involve killing or getting fried.”
Jeremiah pulled up then and she hustled into his car. He had that goofy grin, the one where he knew something she didn’t.
“Okay, what is it this time?”
“You have no idea where we are, do you?”
“Sign says Bronson Caves.”
“Yeah. Up there? The really nice one? That’s the entrance to the Batcave.”
“Only bats I saw were me.”
“Not real bats. From the Batman television show.”
“You mean ‘Bam’ ‘Pow’ Batman?”
“You actually know it?”
“Chip used to watch it way back when. That’s about all I remember.”
“Vampire hanging out at the Batcave. Too damn funny.”
“Could you get me to my cave, please, before I burn up?”
Jeremiah saluted. “Yes, ma’am.”
Sophia told him about Steve, so Jeremiah promised to get a memorial together during the day. When Sophia said it should be at the Center, Jeremiah looked wary.
“Remember what Fudgie did? You gotta think these punk freaks will have the same thought.”
“You’re right. We’ll make sure plenty of muscle is there to stop that from happening again. Plus maybe we can take out a few more of their ranks.”
“Guess peace and love ain’t gonna rule the day this time.”
“They made the choice. They get the results.”
Steve’s memorial drew all the VampAmp staff, along with those in the ZLVG program where Sophia had first met him. She had called Tamar and Alpha who both sent ten guys to guard the place while the service proceeded. They spread up and down Hyperion, even taking positions on the steep hills surrounding the center to have the best position on any attackers.