Blood Stakes

by Upton, Bradley

  With his head near the floor he could see feet moving from under the desk. He watched their boots as they passed through the room. They kicked the bodies of the two men they killed to verify success. Heads lolled with each blow, unseeing eyes stared upward.

  John watched their boots. They moved silently toward another part of the building. When he lost sight of them, he waited a bit longer then moved from where he was crouched. He wanted to find Maggie. How was he taken to interrogation? If he could retrace his route he might be able to find where he and Maggie were separated. He wanted to find her, make sure she was safe. The vampires were determined to kill him. He was their goal and exterminating everyone in the building was no obstacle to their goal.

  He looked over the desk. In the darkness all seemed clear. He started moving faster, stooped over, in case there was someone looking he couldn’t see in the murky blackness. As he moved, his foot hit something small, metallic; a shell casing. It skittered across the floor. The gunmen heard it and stormed back into the room unleashing a volley of gunfire in the direction of the sound. The bullets barely missed John as he slammed himself down on the floor behind a desk. The magazines were expended, as they paused to change them, seven shots answered from another part of the room. They were blasted by bullets, large holes erupted in vital areas as the bullets fragmented. They spastically fell to the floor, life blood hemorrhaging away.

  Maggie stepped into the room, an M-16 leading the way. She quickly crossed to the bodies of the gunman and put a round in each of their heads. She spun and looked around the room. Would the gunfire bring more attackers? She walked cautiously to the interrogation room. Outside the observation room she saw the bodies of the detectives in front of the open door. The night vision goggles showed the hole where there had once been a mirror. She stepped over the bodies and into the room; she looked through the ruined mirror into the interrogation room. It was empty. Maggie breathed a sigh of relief. John had gotten out.

  John lay silently on the ground. His hand was wet and warm. He turned his head and saw a body near him, the throat lacerated deeply, his hand was in a pool of blood. He made an involuntary sound and pulled his hand away quickly. Maggie raised her weapon.

  “John?” her voice barely above whisper but he heard it.

  “Yes,” he replied. He rose up, hands above his head.

  Maggie rushed over and grabbed him by the arm. “There’s an exit over here.” She dragged him to an emergency exit. A sign said it was alarmed. John hesitated and pointed to the sign. An alarm would bring more attention. Two gunmen appeared. Maggie smashed the door open. “Get out. I’ll catch up!” She pushed him out the door and dodged to the left, taking cover behind a desk.

  John stumbled into the parking lot, the door shut behind him, locking him out. The sound of gunfire erupted from behind the door. John stared helplessly at the metal barrier. Even if he could get in, and had a weapon, he wouldn’t be any help to her. Maggie was on her own, battling for her life.

  Chapter 18

  The Reverse Angle

  It was dark. Malcolm woke at his house in the Las Vegas suburbs. It was a modest house, nothing flamboyant or extravagant. It was a run of the mill track house built in the 1960’s like all the rest on the block. The generous tithing from the congregation afforded him the luxury of having a hideaway not related to the church, only Ice and Simone knew of it. They had been with him the longest and would keep his secret. He learned years ago to have more than one place in times of crisis. Now was certainly one of those times.

  He checked the answering machine before leaving. Was there any news about the priest? No. No light was flashing on the recorder. No news was infuriating.

  In the garage was a sleek black convertible Jaguar XJS with tinted windows. None in the congregation begrudged him his fine car, a car their tithing paid for. It was an opulent trapping which came with the job. He opened the garage door and headed into the night. The powerful engine of the Jag growled as he cruised the city streets. He didn’t need the headlights because of his preternatural sight but turned them on anyway. If he didn’t, oncoming traffic would flash their lights to remind a forgetful driver to turn on his lights. And no driver wants to be pulled over by the police for something so dumb.

  Music played in the cassette deck as he drove. Traffic was good and he made it to the church quickly. When he arrived his mood changed. Police cars were in the parking lot, a barricade of police tape surrounded the church buildings. He parked on a nearby street in case anyone at the church might notice the pastor had arrived. He tuned the radio to a news channel. There had been a gun battle at his church. One man was dead. Six people were taken into custody including the man sought for a murder at the church the day before. The infernal priest had interfered again. What had happened? He didn’t care about the humans, were any of his vampires killed? The radio report wouldn’t have such information.

  News vans were parked on the street in front of the church doing live shots. There was another killing at a church. News was rarely so salacious or bloody from a church. Malcolm avoided the crowd and the police. He circled around to the back of the property hiding in shadows, unseen by the humans. There were police inside two of the rooms in one of the side buildings. One of those rooms contained a crypt in the ceiling. Crime scene tape encircled an area of the walkway in front of the rooms. He couldn’t see it but he could smell it. Blood. Someone had died outside the room. He also smelled the sickly sweet odor of ashes. A vampire had burned outside the building

  He listened intently to the police as they talked. The police’s suspect in the previous murder, the innocent priest, had an accomplice; a police woman. She was arrested as well and was at the police station with the priest. The priest was captured, in a box with no way to escape. Rage boiled up inside Malcolm. He needed to take vengeance for all he had lost. The church was burned. It was an excellent way to feed but now it was too dangerous to keep open. It would need to be abandoned. He would take those loyal to him and begin again somewhere else.

  But first he wanted the priest.

  He had set up a meeting place if any event endangered the church and it was not safe to congregate there. Everyone was awake now and they would meet at the designated place when they could leave their crypts unseen.

  Malcolm returned to his car and drove to one of the human’s nearby houses. The man had been arrested by the police and taken away in handcuffs. Malcolm unlocked the door with a key from a hiding place and waited in a large chair. His mind was racing, working out plans, discarding some, augmenting others. He decided on a rash course of action when, in twos and threes, eight pale figures entered the house silently. They stood waiting. No one would speak before Malcolm, he was the leader.

  Thomas was the last to arrive. Malcolm cast a baleful eye on him for a second. Thomas was nervous. The priest had come, but failed to kill Malcolm. Who had been lost? Would his treachery slip by without being noticed? Only he himself and the priest knew of his duplicitous actions. He would never speak of his failed plan, and the priest was in the LVPD jail.

  “Is this everyone? Where are Rico, Amanda, and Robert?” Malcolm asked controlling his anger. What had been a raging fire was now cold, calculated, and deadly. He wanted revenge.

  Simone stepped forward. “The priest somehow found their resting place. I didn’t see the bodies, but there were ashes on the grass outside. He must have burned their bodies in the sun.”

  “Is Ice safe?”

  Simone nodded. Malcolm was relieved by the news. He would recover Ice when the police vacated his church.

  “Very well. I’m ending the church.” There was an audible gasp in the room. “It’s no longer safe to continue. The priest is in the hands of the police. I want him to pay for his crimes.”

  “The police have him. Let them deal with him.” Simone said. She was frightened by his intensity. Never had she seen him so hell bent on destruction in the hundreds of years they were together.

  “No. His crimes n
eed to be punished. He will rue the day he ever came after us. We are going after him.” The monotonality of his words was worse than if he had been screaming. The violent energy and potential which lay underneath the calm exterior sought an outlet. “Vengeance is mine...” he whispered distractedly. He seemed to be reveling in the sound of his own voice, letting the syllables caress his lips and tongue as he said them. “Call the ‘Limited.’ I want them to meet us at the bus terminal next to the police station in thirty minutes. They have been practicing for an engagement for a long time. Let slip the dogs of war.”

  Malcolm gathered the vampires in the parking lot of the bus station.

  “Enter the building in pairs. Search for the priest as you go, but do not kill him. He’s mine.” Each word was spat with venom. “Everyone else, you can kill. In fact, leave no one alive. Dionysus and Anderson, check the cells. Angelique, Thomas, Scott, James, Marcus; clear the rooms. Simone, you know who to see.” The vampires were nervous, anxious, excited. This had never happened before. Malcolm fed them sheep for years. This was a chance to truly release the predatory instincts they kept locked down. Inhuman lions ready for the hunt, the kill.

  Malcolm turned as a dark passenger van pulled into the parking lot of the bus station. The doors opened disgorging ten heavily armed men. They had M-16s with extended clips. Taped at the bottom of the clip was another magazine inverted for easy reloading. Vests pockets bulged ominously. They waited by the van using it to block the view from the police station.

  Malcolm walked over and spoke briefly to his private assault team. They nodded their understanding. Malcolm looked at the vampires and disappeared with a quickness which bordered on being magical. Tense moments passed. Everyone knew the signal. On the opposite side of the building was a flash of light, a transformer on a power pole down the block arced and caught fire. The lights in the police station died as the city block was plunged into darkness. Seeing the lights go out around them, the men ran to the front doors of the police station with military precision. As they mounted the steps to the building the vampires in the nearby parking lot acted. With lightning like speed they crossed the distance and entered the building as the gunmen held open the doors. The last vampire breezed by them and the gunmen entered the police station.

  Once inside the carnage began. The vampires’ supernatural muscles realized their full potential as they did a dance of death. Many had never utilized their complete abilities to capture prey. It wasn't capturing prey here, it was wanton, reckless, joyful killing. The police in the building were slow to react. They were confused by the sudden blackout and suddenly shocked as their comrades throats exploded. The nearly invisible vampires spun and lashed out in a ballet of death. Some of the vampires had straight razors in their hands for expediency, others used claw-like hands to tear out throats. Nothing could stop them; the police were unprepared for a supernatural assault. Even as they began to react, draw their weapons, they were dying.

  Occasionally, a vampire would hesitate for a moment as blood gushed out of a rent throat, mesmerized by the hot scarlet as it billowed from the wound to spray and spatter on the tile floor. It was a waste not to feed, not to revel in the blood running like a river. It was a vampiric fantasy, dominating humans, killing mercilessly, not hiding. They were tamed, safely feeding so as not to be detected. They were the apex predator finally free to kill. The police died impotently, sacrificial lambs bleating helplessly as the life blood sprayed forth from wounds.

  The Limited followed, firing at the cops who came out of offices, firing at the emergency lights, firing at all motion except that of the masters. Even as good as the Limited were, with the practice and training they had, the sheer speed of the vampires made it unlikely they’d strike one accidentally. They were merely the second act, killing anyone the vampires had missed.

  Dionysus and Anderson ran through the police station looking for the holding cells. They had a mission to complete so they would not be able to revel in the slaughter of the humans. Being trusted with a specific task was an honor. They knew Malcolm wouldn’t have trusted them with something so important if he had no confidence they would succeed. Dionysus was relatively new to their vampiric family, only a decade old. To have Malcolm entrust her was reassuring.

  They arrived at the darkened detention area before the carnage started in earnest in the rest of the police station. The bewildered police in the darkness had no idea what happened to the lights, and quickly they were on the ground dying. Dionysus licked her fingers clean of the officer’s blood as she and Anderson gained access to the cells. It was only fair to have a taste.

  There were a number of group cells and a few smaller cells. Las Vegas always had people too drunk or stupid to stay out of trouble, and when they got in to trouble they ended up here. The only light in the area came from an emergency light in the hallway outside the cells. It activated when the lights died. There was something like twenty to thirty people in the group cells all sitting or standing around. The conversation was muted. Some wondered what happened to the power. Many were beyond caring. There was a stench of desperation to the group. A stainless steel toilet was anchored to the wall. No privacy for the wicked.

  When Dionysus and Anderson entered the prisoners took note. Some of them whistled at her and made crude remarks. Dionysus turned to the crowd at the bars and walked over. She stood out of arms reach and smiled an evil smile.

  “Like what you see, you bad, bad boys?” She gave a slight undulation. Several men crowded to the bars. They responded vociferously as she swayed moving forward. Like a cobra striking prey, she grabbed a throat in each hand, locked her fingers into their necks and pulled them forward. Their heads stopped at the bars but their throats continued moving as she pulled. Blood sprayed out drenching the sultry vampire. The crowd in the cell immediately fell back screaming in horror.

  “Di! We have a job to do,” Anderson admonished like a parent would scold a child.

  She dropped the hunks of flesh from her hands and made a pouting face. “Can’t have any fun.” Di mumbled as she walked to the next cell. “We’ll be back, boys. Stay right where you are.” She chuckled as she sauntered away. A fearful cry went up. The trapped men yelled for help from the police who wouldn’t come.

  The next cell had huddled close to the bars to see what was happening in the detention area. When they saw Di dripping, covered in blood, they retreated to the back of the cell shocked by her gore drenched appearance. Anderson and Di looked in the cell. They could see the priest wasn't there. “Can we kill just a few? I’ve never done it. Not really.” Di asked hopefully. “We’re always so careful. Everything here is burned, right? What the fuck? And… and we are missing out on the attack .”

  Anderson turned as they heard the sound of gunfire starting. “Ok. Just this once. Don’t tell anyone.” He used the keys he had taken off the dead police officer and opened the cell door. They entered and the prisoners rioted. A few attacked, most fled toward the walls, confined in the concrete box. Big men who thought they were tough died, the meek died, the groveling died. Quickly the bodies were strewn about the cell, not a man left alive. Anderson’s white blond hair was streaked with blood, his clothes sodden with crimson gore. Di was drinking from one of the victims.

  “Come on, you had your fun.” Anderson didn’t want to admit it, but he enjoyed it too.

  They checked the women’s holding area; prostitutes, some drunk and disorderlies, but no police woman. In a smaller cell they found their human retainers. The four men rushed to the open door, elated to see their masters.

  "We didn’t talk. They questioned us but we told them nothing." Their eyes shone. Help had arrived!

  “Thank you. That's very loyal of you.”

  Di and Anderson quickly killed the four men and dragged their bodies into the large cell with the pile of corpses.

  “No one’s here.” Anderson said. He pulled four small canisters out of his jacket pockets. He handed two to Di, She walked to the end of the block an
d pulled a pin on the canister, tossing it into the woman’s holding cell. She threw another into an occupied smaller cell.

  “Last one out drinks from a cold corpse...” She disappeared in a blink.

  Anderson tossed his two canisters in the men’s holding cells. One landed on the corpses, the other in the middle of the first cell. He ran out.

  Long seconds ticked away in slow motion. Down the cell block, there was an explosion in the women’s cell. Shrieks as the thermite grenade exploded burning everything with enough heat to melt metal. Then the next explosion. The corpses burned, there would be nothing recognizable left. It would burn so hot it would be unusual to find more than bone chips. One man in the group cell tried to throw a throatless body on the canister. It exploded before he could lift the body over the ordnance. It did no good. Every man in the holding cell died horribly.

  Simone was first into the station. She quickly found Inspector Henderson’s office toward the back of the building. The siege had barely begun, the sound of gunfire had not yet started. He was sitting in the darkness with two officers. One was on the phone trying to get through to the power company which was now flooded with calls from an unexpected blackout. She appeared in the doorway, a voluptuous silhouette, the kind of woman who only lives in men's fantasies. She glided to his desk. He sat breathless. She reached out caressing his face with the back of her cool hand. He thrilled at the touch but was off put by something.

  “Can I help you, Ma’am?” Henderson asked trying not to stammer.