by CD Brown
“It only hurts for a second,” he said. “After that, everything you want will be yours.”
At 2 a.m., the plan had been finalized. The truck was on its way to Vernon and Sophia waited for Fudgie’s call. It came at 2:30.
Sophia picked up the phone. “Is he within range?”
“Yes.”
“Then walk on over.”
Sandy shook her head, but being right about Jeremiah’s location didn’t make her idea correct.
“Are you and Jeremiah alone? I don’t want your goons surrounding me.”
“Yes. Your people made that clear.”
Sophia nodded and they killed the line. Before she left, Maisie brought her to a closet, handing her what looked like a denim vest. “The cover is blue jeans, but underneath is Kevlar. Just an extra layer of protection in case a stake comes out.”
“And it looks like something I would wear.” Sophia slipped it on. It fit too well. “You made this for me?”
Pamela called from across the room. “Don’t look shocked. The sheriff needs armor.”
As she left the VampAmp building, she moved slowly to make sure she could detect any dark presences. As she approached Fudgie’s Deco building, she found no lurkers. So far, he had kept his promise.
She took the stairs, again making sure to never be out of control. As she entered his office area, Fudgie waited by the reception desk. Alone.
“Where is he?”
“In good time.” Fudgie pulled out his cell and called. “Did he arrive? Good.” He hung up. “So far, so good. Follow me.” Fudgie winked. “But not too close.”
The office was not as out there as the building. A series of gray padded cubicles filled out the rectangular layout stretching left from the front desk. Each held a chair and a computer. Sophia figured some other company did work here during the day, probably on Fudgie’s dime.
As they walked, Sophia said, “This war has been useless. All that happened was depletion of the vampire population.”
“I realize that. But I’ll have no trouble making more. I don’t see you following that path.”
“Always plotting. But you can’t reach the finish line.”
“Someone as old as you should know we play the long game. The only one standing in my way is you. And you have no connection to this city. I’ll have my way. The Caballero taught me patience.” He stopped in front of an office door in the far corner of the building. Three other such doors were along the wall. “It has served me well. Wait here.”
Fudgie wheeled out a bound and gagged Jeremiah who sat in a mesh-backed chair. “The breather in question.”
Sophia nudged forward, but Fudgie held out his palm. “Not yet.” The phone came out and up to his ear. “What’s it look like?”
“Hold on, boo. Almost done.” Jeremiah nodded at Sophia.
But Fudgie’s face turned into a scowl. “Really? Okay.” Hanging up, he pointed the phone at her. “Eight? You only gave back eight.”
“You never said a number.”
“Bullshit. You knew I wanted them all back.”
“You aren’t getting them.”
“Oh, I will.” Fudgie laughed. “But you were smart. This was never gonna end well for you.”
He keyed his phone and small explosions popped all around Sophia with enough force to throw her to the ground. Flames filled every garbage can, some already spreading to the carpet.
“I hate to lose this place, but so it goes.” Fudgie, calm and collected, slipped the phone in his pocket. “But you get to lose him.”
With a quick slash, he opened Jeremiah’s throat. Blood streamed down his chest like a crimson waterfall. Sophia sprang to her feet just as Fudgie turned to mist and disappeared through the open office door.
She ran to Jeremiah who gurgled while attempting to breath. Ripping off the duct tape gag didn’t help his air intake. He had precious seconds to live.
Sophia could only think of one solution. The cut was deep enough to open the throat, but not so wide as to cut ear to ear. His jugular was still intact. Latching on, she drank as deep as she could, draining him close to dry in a minute. She then slashed her own wrist, clamping his throat closed as best she could.
“Drink, baby. Drink.”
Jeremiah struggled as blood stained Sophia’s hand, but when she felt tapped, he looked close to turned. His throat hadn’t healed, but that process would only take an overnight rest.
But now, she needed to get them out of there. Vampire or not, Jeremiah could still burn up. The smoke clouding the room didn’t affect her as she didn’t need oxygen to live, but it did camouflage the exit. The wall of fire had built to cover the stair door. She took the same option Fudgie had: the office.
The window was open and cool salt air blew in. No sirens yet, so she knew Fudgie hadn’t called 911. He probably never would. She could go to mist, but that would leave Jeremiah to burn up. She leaned her head outside: two stories down was the open deck. Grabbing Jeremiah in a bear hug, she threw herself backwards out of the window, hoping to use her body as a buffer when they both landed.
As they crashed to the flagstone, they bounced and rolled. Sophia’s insides shattered on impact: both shoulders separated, her spine cracked in three places and most of her ribs split. But they were safe.
She told Jeremiah to pull out her phone, but he shook his head, no words able to pass through his wounded throat. He bent down and picked her up, him limping on his right ankle but still able to walk. He took her down the street and into the VampAmp offices.
Panic erupted as everyone tried to help all at once, so Sophia yelled out, “Listen.” The place went quiet.
“We need to go into the isolation rooms.” Sophia knew they kept sleeping quarters for those who worked too close to dawn.
“We?” Sandy kneeled next to her.
“Yes, both of us. I had to turn him.”
Sandy stood. “Welcome to the family, jack. Go get some rest.”
As Jeremiah laid Sophia in a bed, she called out to Sandy. “Get my suit ready. Fudgie dies in the daylight.”
Chapter Twenty-six
When Sophia rose the next evening, her body was stiff from the injuries, but had repaired itself. She stretched, hearing the muscle groan and creak, while her newly-reformed tendons cracked. She shook her head to clear herself then looked for Jeremiah.
Sandy was waiting for her, her usual put-together look frayed after the impromptu sleepover. Her hair flew in too many directions, but she had two bottles of blood in her hand, so Sophia thought she looked just swell.
“One of those for me?”
“Yeah. Let’s see how the newbie’s doing.”
As they opened the door, he lay on the bed. His skin was sallow with a slight gray tint. He shivered as if he were coming down with the flu and his face, which used to have the elongated features of his spirit animal, had tightened up to a sharpness that hadn’t been there before, making him more handsome but looking more cold. Sophia held out the bottle to him.
“Drink.”
He took a tentative sip, his face coiling like a baby being force-fed broccoli, but then he started gulping it down. Sophia helped him sit up while pulling back on the bottle.
“Slow down. No need to drink like a sailor on shore leave.”
“Guess I finally figure why y’all get so crazy. That tasted damn good.” He wiped his mouth, catching his fangs on his flannel shirt sleeve. “Oh, damn. How do I look?”
“You look different. You won’t have to pay the desert guy anymore.”
“I know it may sound weird, but I think I’m going to miss that.”
“You’ll miss the sun more.” Sandy had brought in another bottle, but Jeremiah’s skin had become rosy from the first one. “There’s a big adjustment coming.”
“Guess my career is over, too.”
“Unless you get night shoots. Even then…” Sophia’s wobbled her head.
“Yeah. But being alive…”
“Undead, boo. You’re
undead.”
“Okay. Walking and talking is better than the alternative. How about that?”
“For sure. Can you walk?”
“Yeah. After that drink, I’m feeling…what? Invincible?”
“That’s as good a descriptor as any.”
Jeremiah rose, faltered a bit on unsteady legs, then got level. He stretched and grew bigger, then pulled Sophia close. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have to take care of your murderer.”
“You will, baby, you will.”
As they left the room together, the office erupted with applause. The crew had hung a printed sign saying, “Welcome to the Family.” Maisie and Horton awaited Jeremiah with a Burger King crown, putting it on his head. Jeremiah looked embarrassed and proud at the same time. Everyone sang “Happy Birthday” while Jeremiah received many pats on the back.
Sandy pulled Sophia aside. “You may have to let him play with kids his own age.”
“I thought of that. It’s up to him.”
“Says the female vamp who could have any male in town.”
“But I’m like my friends. Picky.”
Sophia watched them celebrate their new family member but couldn’t help but think about her task. She’d had a good run as a night creature and if it came to an end tonight, well, she’d leave knowing how well she’d had it. But as she looked on the smiles and laughter of her young charges, she knew she had to win. She had to keep Fudgie from killing this spirit in the name of greed.
“He can’t win,” she thought. “Not ever.”
The plan was simple: strike while the sun was out. Sophia was convinced Fudgie didn’t know she had followed him back to Venice that other night. If all went smoothly, she would walk into the bungalow on the canals and end his campaign for vampire mastery in one fell blow.
While Jeremiah and the others holed up at the VampAmp offices, Sophia would don the sunsuit and attack him. When she walked out of the sunless space clothed head to toe in thick canvas and dark glass, Pamela stood, looking ready for a fight in exercise tights and taped fists.
“If you think you’re doing this alone…”
“I think I will be snuffing someone’s life. You’ve never done that.”
“No, but Fudgie’s influence in this world is Jim’s fault. I’m cleaning up his mess.” Pamela then jangled her keys. “Plus, I can give you a ride.”
Sophia, who already felt the burden of taking steps across the office, just said, “Let’s get this over with.”
Pamela’s Tesla waited for them at the valet station. Sophia drew a few stares, but this being Venice, the central meeting point for everything weird in L.A., nobody said anything. Sophia dropped into the passenger seat, trying not to let her lack of motion put her to sleep.
As they snaked along Pacific Coast Highway, Sophia could catch glimpses of the beach, the morning sun cutting a blinding sword of reflective light in the ocean. The marine layer was already gone and, even through the smoked glass, Sophia could see the crystalline blue of the sky.
“Wow. This is so beautiful.” She knew if her body could make tears, she would be crying.
“It’s why I won’t be turned. Living forever without the sun, the sand, the wind of the perfect California day? No appeal.” Pamela pulled the car over to a line of spots with charging stations reserved for electric cars. “This is as close as we can get.”
Pamela helped Sophia from the seat, the sports car’s clearance much less than Jeremiah’s coupe. But as she stood, she focused, drawing on the biggest reserve she had: her anger. David and Chip killed by the werewolves. Dragos putting her on the run. All of those times Fudgie was one step ahead because he knew the territory and she was a rookie making mistake after mistake. She felt her fangs pop and prick her tongue, and that taste of blood shattered the rust.
They made their way into the village from Venice Boulevard, the busy street that was one of the main arteries of Los Angeles. A few of the surfers, bodysuit clad and hair sopping, gave her sideways glances, but not a second look. They were probably trying to figure if that space suit could help them rip a few extra curls.
They finally reached Fudgie’s place which sat at the t-junction of two of the canals. In daylight, it looked less spooky, but quick glances by any interested party would wonder why this obviously abandoned house was not on the market. Pamela halted Sophia by gently touching her shoulder.
“Check your side pockets.”
Sophia reached down and unzipped the sides. What she thought were leg reinforcements were actually two very sharp stakes. She handed one to Pamela. “Decided to go old school, huh?”
“I thought you might have been tired of trying to rip off heads.”
“I’ve never used one.” Sophia whipped it around like a dueling sword. “Feels good in my hand. Let’s see if it works.”
The front door was locked but was old. Pamela looked to make sure no foot traffic was around, stepped back and kiyahed a kick right under the door knob. With a satisfying crunch, the door flew open.
The front room looked like the 1950s captured in amber: large console television encased in oak, the speakers covered by lace-patterned wood, and a hi-fi record player on top. The sofa was low with brass feet and the coffee table was glass and liver-shaped. The only modern touches were the framed posters on the wall: Frank Sinatra, Dean Martin, Tony Bennet, all signed and personalized.
“Jesus, Chip would love this place.”
“Who the fuck is Chip?” Fudgie stood in the doorway leading to the kitchen, his voice muffled by his own sunsuit.
“Someone I lost.”
“Then he won’t miss you when I finally turn you to ash.”
Fudgie also didn’t have his full speed thanks to the suit and the hour. He lumbered forward, hands out Frankenstein-style, going straight for Sophia’s helmet. But as she stabbed forward with the stake, he slowed himself and dodged her thrust.
“I’ll kill you myself, you monster.” Pamela slipped by Sophia and brought the stake down. Fudgie grabbed her wrist with both his hands.
“You’re cute, doll. But I’ll kill you just like I did Jim.” He bent his own wrists and Sophia could hear Pamela’s forearm snap. She screamed in pain, dropping the stake and falling to her knees.
Fudgie squatted to pick up the stake, but Sophia kicked the side of his helmet, sending him tumbling away. He still managed to grab the weapon as he rolled, but he was in no position to attack.
Sophia kneeled to see if Pamela was alright, but her frightened eyes gave warning. Sophia swung backwards with the stake, catching Fudgie’s suit in the stomach but not piercing the material. Sophia rose to face him.
“I’m alright,” Pamela said. “But…but…”
Sophia waved her hand to calm Pamela. “This was always my fight.”
The two circled each other, Fudgie flipping the stake between his hands. “You think you can take me? You may be older, but I’ve been in these suits longer.” He put his left hand palm out and looked ready to stab with his right. “I can dance around until you black out. Then you’re mine.”
But Sophia saw an opening. As Fudgie took a few steps to his right, she charged, swatting aside his extended hand and wrapping his waist in a football tackle. He stabbed into her back, but he couldn’t get enough power to split the suit. Together they tumbled through the front door, past the porch and into the sunlight.
The blinding glare beckoned Sophia to go under, to leave this toxic environment and slip into deathly slumber. But she pushed through it, forcing her way through her brain’s muck and back into battle. As she rose, she could see Fudgie struggled as well. As they faced each other, stakes in hand, they both slumped, looking like heavyweights who had fought past the last bell. Sophia took heavy steps forward as the two enemies closed.
“This was always my town, bitch. And it will remain that way once I get rid of you.”
“Vamps don’t want you. They want me.” Sophia swung out, but only succeeded in maki
ng Fudgie keep his distance.
“Those pussified shits who type all night?” Then Sophia heard him laugh. “Guess you got the niggers and spics, too. Great collection of castoffs. The real vamps, the ones who want to take over this town, they’ll always side with me.”
“They’ll scatter like roaches in the light when I’m done with you. Or they’ll get dropped.” Sophia grabbed his extended hand by the wrist and pulled him close, jamming the stake in his side. She marshaled her strength and heard a ripping sound. She pushed upwards towards his heart. But Fudgie grabbed her helmet and thrust her down, his knee crunching into her chest. He pushed her backwards, she tripping and falling hard on the sidewalk. The stake flew from her grip.
In seconds, Fudgie had his knee planted in her stomach, stabbing down with two hands toward her chest. She caught his wrists, keeping the stake from even touching her suit, but her fortitude waned. She pushed, but Fudgie had the leverage. She could feel the sharpened tip through the canvas and she wasn’t sure how long she could hold out.
But suddenly, the force was gone. Pamela, hammer in hand, stood above Sophia. As she sat up, she could see Fudgie on his butt, the visor of the sunsuit cracked from the blow. Sophia scrabbled on hands and knees like a dog until she was on top of him.
Taking the hammer from Pamela, she pounded the spider-webbed crack, once, twice, until her third strike shattered the glass. She then swung her knees onto his shoulders, planting him on the sidewalk.
“Watch your back.” Fudgie struggled but couldn’t free himself. “My people will come for you.”
“Goodbye, asshole,” she said as the sunlight blistered his skin. “I’ll be waiting.”
The blisters turned black and his face burst into flames. Sophia stood so the fire wouldn’t alight onto her suit. As the black smoke wisped away in the breeze, she peered into the helmet. Empty except for ash. She opened the suit to make sure the rest would be gone.