by CD Brown
Sophia stepped out of the elevator, ready to meet. Everyone had already surrounded the conference table but weren’t ready to sit just yet.
While most of the council members were relaxed, Scratch-dilla looked on edge. Sophia had expected Tamika to be his second, but 4tran, one of the enforcers, took that role. Scratch stood back, doing little but shaking hands as he sipped the provided blood. Sophia could see Tamar sliding towards her own edge as she watched the new cabal leader.
“I just don’t like him,” she said, her voice dropping into the low register. Sophia recognized that tone as “fighting mad.”
“There’s too many things going on in your head.” Sophia slipped her arm around Tamar’s waist and gently led her out of sight of the South Central vamp. “You probably shouldn’t be here anyway.”
“I couldn’t miss this.”
“I know, but the wound from seeing Alpha die is too fresh. You have to remember: he’s hurting, too.”
“We’ll see.”
To witness all of the cabals represented in one room was a grayscale rainbow of crazy. The Black and Whites, the Glamazons, the Bomb Squad and the Muertos all had representatives. Other vote-holding cabals included Tarzana’s Call from the San Fernando Valley, Seoul Takers from Koreatown and the Rosebloods from Pasadena. Balthazar Nesbit was there representing the Scions, although he had no voting rights. Neither did a few of the Orange County vamps who had no cabal but wanted to monitor what the situation would be. Sandy, as secretary for the council, had invited them, but they were considered out of jurisdiction for this council. They’d need to form their own or keep the county open.
Sophia nodded to Pamela who got everyone seated at the table. The non-voters had to sit on the perimeter, a visual confirmation of their status. Sophia felt she needed a gavel to make things official but decided even that small gesture was too silly.
“Since I got here at the end of last year, I have been thrust into the center of vampire Los Angeles. I know most of you wonder why I get to be in charge…”
“You damn right.” Scratch spoke loud enough for everyone at the table to hear, but Sophia decided to push through.
“But I have a reason. When I met The Caballero, I could sense his power. He chose to engage me because I’m the only one in this room who has the age, and therefore the strength, to carry on his legacy.” Everybody nodded except Scratch who shook his head with disgust. Sophia simmered but decided not to boil over. “So, as your leader…”
“Stop with this bullshit.” Scratch stood, staring at Sophia across the table.
“The Bomb Squad is out of order.” Scratch’s head swiveled to Sandy. “We have rules for these things.”
“Ain’t no rules. Ain’t never been no rules. All I see is white people taking over what used to be the job of a Mexican. You can’t gentrify the vampires.”
Sophia felt her system explode. “Oh, no you ain’t. You not gonna come to my table no way and not listen on what I’m saying, no. You not the only one who ain’t had nothing and ain’t never been nothing. So unless you got a damn point, you not never interrupting me with that, no.”
Sophia couldn’t believe the words she’d said, the heavy French-accented tone of the bayous having not made an appearance for over 100 years. She gulped her breath and looked at Sandy who was trying to keep from laughing.
“You alright, babe?”
“Yeah. But I ain’t gone full Cajun on someone in a century.” She faced the rest of the table. “Scratch, you have every right to replace me. If you have the votes.”
He sat but didn’t look placated. Even though this was meant to be a meet and greet session, Scratch objected at every point. Sophia could see Tamar scooting to the edge of her seat with every comment. When Scratch objected to the order of voting, Tamar leaped up.
“Dammit, fool. Can’t you keep your mouth shut?”
Scratch was on his feet in a flash. “No woman talks like that to me. Specially one who made a bitch out of my boy.”
Tamar leapt across the table and had her hands around his throat before any other council member could react. Most of the cabal leaders decided to stay out of it, but Balthazar, who had been sitting behind Scratch, got inside their grappling and pushed them apart.
“Brother, sister, end this madness.” They both looked surprised that the preacher had the strength to separate them.
“He gotta shut the fuck up!” Tamar stopped her assault, but Scratch still struggled in Balthazar’s grip.
“Y’all ain’t respect us. Ain’t never have.” He relaxed, so Balthazar let him go. “Fuck all y’all. Bomb Squad out.”
As Scratch and 4tran stood at the elevators, Sophia faced them. “Break the rules and you’ll get slapped down. You won’t put us all in jeopardy just because you won’t listen.”
“Fuck you.”
As they went into the elevators, Sophia turned to the rest of the council. “Who votes to take away voting power from the Bomb Squad?”
All hands, even those without a say, rose in agreement.
Chapter Twenty-One
Sophia stayed after the meeting to discuss what happened with Pamela and Sandy. The three convened in Pamela’s office where Sophia took the time to look out her window. The ocean stretched all the way to Asia, but the fog and the black kept the horizon unfocused.
“Must be beautiful during the day.”
“Especially sunset.” Pamela offered her a bottle of blood which she accepted. “Do you miss it?”
“We all do.” Sandy ran her hands through her hair. “But we have to stick to the deal, right?”
“Yeah.” Sophia turned to Pamela. “Did Jim ever tell you the deep secret of vampirism?”
“Maybe, but what’s yours?”
“The only time you’re ever warm is when you feed. Blankets, heaters, even snuggling up, they all do no good. Chippy used to like it because he could wear expensive clothes and never sweat. But that’s what I miss. Being able to sit still and not feel chilled.”
“That would explain the predilection for trench coats.” Pamela sipped her own bottle, this one filled with green juice. “Okay, so what do we do about our little revolt?”
“They broke the contract. They’re out.” Sandy punctuated her pronouncement with a karate chop. “They get nothing from us, we get nothing from them, but we can wipe them out if they get out of line.”
“Seems like they asked for it.” Pamela finished the last of her drink, then joined Sophia by the window. “Can’t see why they won’t play by the rules.”
“Y’all with have to forgive me. I may look white…” Sophia laughed at her choice of words. “…And I am. But Cajuns got treated pretty bad by those city folks. See, it’s part of the reason I could broker the peace between them and the Muertos. You’re both good people, but you don’t really care about their world. When they see us, they see every cop who mistreated them, every advantage kept out of reach, all the things we take for granted that they get denied. Whether we like it or not, we look like The Man.”
“I’ve never…”
“No, you haven’t, Pamela. Not on purpose. I built the trust with Alpha. Guess I’ll have to do it with Scratch now.”
“What if he’s not the problem?” Sandy stood now, checking to see no one was listening in. “Fudgie had a mole with them before. What if he’s leaning that way?”
“Then we better learn the truth right quick if we want to keep the peace.” They all nodded in agreement.
Sandy gave Sophia a ride back to Silver Lake. She seemed tense to Sophia, so before she got dropped off, Sophia said, “What’s the deal?”
“How did you do it? Run these meetings, I mean. You have to take on so many emotions.”
“I’m gonna guess that listening to people’s bullshit wasn’t one of your strengths when you were a daywalker.”
“Guilty, babe. I mean, I feel for them, but I thought my job was being the strong one.”
“Nope, you’re the sponge. You soak it all up so t
hey can dry off. Get them clean, but you get dirty. It’s a tough one.”
“How did you cope?”
“You could try getting laid.”
“I have enough problems. I don’t need to mommy some milksop bloodsucker.”
“Wow, is dating here so hard?”
“Babe, you found the only normal one.” Sandy pulled over in front of the center. “Granted, there must be somebody.”
“I think VampAmp has their version of online dating.”
“Ugh. How about I just get a thrall.”
Sophia laughed. “More trouble than worth.”
Sandy drove off, swearing to find someone “to take the edge off.” Sophia guessed she had been undateable for many years.
As she crossed the street, something set off her senses. She flashed to the door and took up a defensive position. From the shadows, Myra staggered out, walking slow and with her hands up.
“I’m not here to fight.”
Sophia didn’t relax, searching the area with her powers for someone hiding. When she found no one, she came out of the stance, but kept her claws raised. “You have one minute.”
“My dad fooled me. You have to know that.”
“Doesn’t matter. Too many of my friends are gone for good. You caused that.”
“I know. I got all pumped up, thinking we were stronger than we were. Dad encouraged it, found Jurevicious in the park, gave me the idea we should act. He said he would back us, but we were just the first wave.”
“What’s second?”
“I don’t know.” Myra looked over her shoulder, scanning the shadows. Sophia saw paranoia infested Myra’s eyes. “But I think I can find out. He’ll take me back in. I’m sure of it. Then I’ll let you know what the big plan is.”
Sophia had no interest in trusting her but felt she should at least get the information offered. “Okay. What do you want?”
“I just want back into the community. I don’t want a kill order on my head.”
“If you provide, I’ll make it happen.”
Myra nodded then backed away. “You’ll hear from me. Not in person, but by e-mail. Dad can’t figure technology out, so it’s a safe space.”
Myra went mist form in front of her, drifting up towards Griffith Park. She had looked ragged, maybe even homeless. Sophia wouldn’t forgive until she came through with good intel, but Sophia also knew anything to prevent Fudgie from keeping the advantage was a good thing.
The camp near Joshua Tree was rustic, so much so that it reminded Sophia of her family home back in the 19th Century, except that everything was desiccated from the lack of moisture in the air. But still, the level of technology and overall feel equaled her old cabin on the bayou. She wondered if it was still standing and, if so, remained with her family.
The walls were clapboard but plastered to keep the place airtight, as it had a window unit to stave off the desert heat. The roof, which looked perfect for a barn, extended over the parking area which also served as an informal porch as indicated by the rusty rockers. They had driven off the main interstate onto a two-lane highway and then further on a dirt road, which was two ruts cleared of the omnipresent brush. Even though a major city was only a short drive away, this place felt like nowhere.
As they went inside, the place retained its country feel: all wood floors, woodwork around the trim, a brick fireplace with a giant cow skull hanging above. The furniture was also wood with padding, but looked sturdy. The only metal thing was the bed in the master. Sophia thought words like quaint and cozy, while trying to dismiss shithole. At least everything was clean.
After dropping off their bags, Jeremiah led her to the backyard. There was no fence for the property, at least not within direct sight, but a twenty-yard circular pen made of chain link filled the rear lawn.
“Where did your guys go?”
“Fucking wolves. Always leave me out of their pack. They wanted to head to Nevada.”
“But I thought the guy wasn’t one of them.”
“They paid his way to keep watch.”
Jeremiah opened the gate which was solid and tight. Inside were four cages looking big enough to hold a St. Bernard. Open locks, each the size of an apple, hung from the latches.
“Home away from home.” He said it with a smile, but Sophia could feel the rue in his voice. “I really hope you’re ready for this.”
“Me?” She swatted his butt, making sure it stung through the denim. “I’m just as country as you are, boy.”
“It ain’t that.” His face got serious. “Whatever happens on these nights tends to disappear. Full moon is where we lose it to the rapture. If something goes wrong…”
“Nothing will go wrong.”
“Okay. Regardless, I trust you.”
They spent the next two hours putting up the blackout curtains so Sophia wouldn’t be in danger. After tucking herself in, she waited for the sleep, hoping her bravado towards this task wasn’t empty.
Turning Chip hadn’t been her decision. And it wasn’t David’s either, even though he said who and where when the time came for new vamps.
She had chosen just another morning to go see the boy. Well, he wasn’t a boy anymore. Just shy of his twenty-third birthday, only three years younger than Sophia’s turning, he had built up a strong body from lifting, hauling, and setting those groceries. He’d even taken a few turns on an oyster boat to build a relationship with a few Croatians down the bayou. Those long rakes used to dig the pearlescent shells bulked up the arms.
The Black Hand hadn’t been openly operating since World War I, but the Great Depression had reactivated their presence. But they weren’t the all-powerful Mafia known later, just a collection of the toughest Italians who had no intention of working.
Their new job was to prowl the French Market and find the weaknesses. They called it the protection racket, although who needed protecting from whom was not so much a question as an obvious answer. Pay and you got protected.
And so when Sophia turned up, she found Chip not wanting any protection.
He gripped a broom near the bristles, hands together as if holding a baseball bat. Three guys, each a bit smaller than Chip, held knives and circled their prey.
Chip swung hard, making a whiffing noise as the wood passed under the goons’ chins. They couldn’t get close, but Chip? He was trapped. Sophia closed in slowly, staying to the shadows so none of the combatants could see her. She heard one man taunting.
“Come on, Chippy. We’re all Paisano here. Nobody wants to get hurt.”
“More like you don’t want to sweat. Go help out your papas instead of being bums.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout my papa, Chip. Maybe you should worry ‘bout yours.”
Sophia knew how much Chip’s father meant to him, so when he dashed forward to try and push that broom handle through the guy’s chest, Chip gave up every advantage.
But he was quicker than they thought. He poked the taunter in the chest with the tip of the stick, then turned swinging, connecting with the hip of the guy on his left who charged at the opening. But Sophia could see no way for Chip to prevail, so she snuck up to jump on one of the men.
Chip saw her before the Black Hand guy did.
He raised his hand, saying, “Back off! These guys are dangerous.”
Just as Sophia was ready to show how well she could handle herself, Chip gagged. He pivoted and she could see a knife gouged into his liver, blood pooling on the back of his shirt.
This was far enough for the mob boys who decided explaining themselves to the cops wasn’t on the agenda for that day. As they disappeared into one of the many French Quarter side alleys, Sophia lowered Chip to the sidewalk.
She should have been grieving, but instead was furious. “Why didn’t you trust me? I’ve told you so many times I can take care of myself. Typical dumb man.”
Chip, blood now dripping from his mouth, said, “Hospital.”
“They won’t be able to do anything. I can save your life, Chip
. But your old life is through. No more parents. Almost never see your friends. Can you live like that?”
“With you?” His voice was a struggling rasp.
“Yeah. You’ll get to spend a lot of time with me.”
Chip nodded and Sophia picked him up and rushed to find David.
When she woke up, Jeremiah was puttering around. He had told her he had about an hour of darkness before changing, so she had to get going right as she woke. She walked into the kitchen to see him wearing nothing but boxer shorts.
“Are you transforming or trying to turn me on?” She saw how corded his body was, lean and powerful underneath the denim and flannel he always wore. She rarely had the chance to examine him because when he was this undressed, they were usually making love.
“Can’t even think of that right now.” He was packing a box with fruit he’d brought. “I get real hungry, apparently. Most of this will be gone come morning.”
“What’s my role here?”
“Just make sure I don’t leave the cage.” He pointed to a riding crop on the counter. “Use that if I get out of line.”
“Kinky.” She picked it up and went to give him a light whack, but he pulled away. His face was the most serious she’d ever seem.
“Not now. Please.” He slumped as she put the crop down, then hugged her. “I can’t really describe the twisting I feel right now. I’m somewhere between me and the animal and I just can’t be normal until it’s all over.”
“I guess we’ll only have a few overlapping hours during all this. I’ll keep it level.”
He bent her over, kissing her deeply. When they were back to standing, he whispered, “I love you.” Before Sophia could say anything, he convulsed. Together, they hustled to the pen and locked him in.
She had seen him as a human and as a possum with a few in between times, but she had never witnessed the full transformation. His bones cracked and his skin split, and with every subtle change, Jeremiah gasped and cried out. Sophia couldn’t feel the pain he went through, but she suffered to see him wracked through. His face tightened like a screaming baby, all while sweat poured from his brow. As his nose extended and his face became animalistic, the screams flew to a higher pitch, a cat’s screeching instead of a human’s wailing. And while she hurt to her inner core, the lack of fluid in her ducts and liquid in her sinuses left her face dry. But she wanted to cry. Badly. She never thought she could miss something she hated so much.