I Kill Monsters: Fury (Book 1)

by Tony Monchinski

“You have the smell of the supernatural on you.” Raheem eyed Jay.

  “I don’t know why,” said Bowie. “Jay wasn’t too close to any of them this morning. Me and Boone got to see them up close and personal.”

  “Boone,” the genie huffed. “He is outside I imagine?”

  “I wouldn’t think of bringing him back in until you said it was alright,” said Gossitch.

  “And I wouldn’t think of inviting him in until he apologizes. That man brings you so many difficulties, my friend. I cannot imagine what his redeeming qualities must be.”

  “He’s got a point,” said Santa Anna, but Gossitch ignored him.

  “He brings us difficulties, this is true. But what man does not? And he also delivers us from difficulties, Raheem.”

  “There is wisdom in your words, my friend,” noted the genie. He looked at Santa Anna. “I can appreciate loyalty. I just hope it is never misplaced.”

  “I can’t imagine genetic whatchamacallit goes over well among the vampires,” said Santa Anna.

  “Though the truce holds for now, the battle lines are being drawn each night.”

  “I been away for ten years, Rah. Break it down for a brother.”

  “As in all species, the young eventually overtake the old.”

  “But the old don’t go down without a fight.”

  “Correct. Older generations of vampire were hunted and nearly exterminated. They were forced to accept anonymity as a prerequisite for their survival. The best they could hope for was a peaceful co-existence with your kind, with humanity. But this new generation seeks suzerainty of the earth.”

  “Suzerainty?” said Bowie. “That shit don’t sound good.”

  Raheem nodded. “Total control. Of everything. Including, alas, poor old djinn and their modest water-bowl establishments.”

  “Nothing modest about this place,” noted Bowie.

  “Yeah,” added Jay. “These rugs alone must have cost, what? Five grand apiece?”

  The genie waved his hand in a modest motion, as if to dismiss the cost. “Ten to fifteen. And we are planning a second location in Brooklyn sometime in the next year.”

  “What do they think—the vampire?” asked Gossitch. “That humans and every other thing is just going to curl up in a ball and let them take over?”

  “No, my friend,” the genie’s voice took on a serious tone again. “They look forward to nothing short of the extirpation of your race and the banishment of humble creatures of faery like myself.”

  “Extirpation?” asked Bowie. “You mean they want to enslave us all?”

  “No. They wish to wipe your kind out. What you would call genocide.”

  “What would they do for food?” wondered Jay.

  “I have heard it lamented among the elder vampire, that this new breed has no eye to the future. They are too self-involved, too focused on the present, on today at the expense of tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, well if they’ve got their scientists manipulating genes,” deduced Santa Anna, “I got a feeling they’ve got something in the works as far as securing a food supply.”

  “Fortunately, this is much talk,” the genie injected some levity in its tone. “The older generation of vampire will never allow the young to implement their plans.”

  “And in the meantime,” concluded Santa Anna, “we’re safe.”

  “Ah, but is one ever really safe, doostam?” the genie turned its attention to Jay again. “Really, you bear the scent of the otherworldly. Tell Raheem, where have you been?”

  Jay looked flabbergasted and Bowie answered in his stead. “That’s just good old pussy you’re smelling on the man, Rah. Jay’s got himself some new tail.”

  “Ah, the pleasures of the flesh,” Raheem recalled fondly. “I remember well my harem and the women in it. Western civilization was too quick to dismiss polygamy, should you ask me.”

  “How long’s it been, Rah?” Bowie slyly asked.

  The genie smiled. “Let us say, ‘it has been awhile,’ doostam.”

  “You gotta get out of here more often,” Bowie referred to the Oasis. “Get Fakhri to take you on a vacation.”

  “Vacation? I have no time for a vacation. Have you seen the hookah bar down the street run by those Pakis? And I’m still recovering from my last wonderful holiday in Oman. Have you ever been?”

  “Can’t say I have,” noted Bowie.

  “Oh, you should visit sometime.”

  “What’dya got against Pakistanis, Rah?” asked Gossitch.

  “Have you not heard of this infidel Bashiruddin Mahmood?”

  All four men shook their heads.

  “A Pakistani nuclear scientist,” explained Raheem. “The Wall Street Journal interviewed him and he said that djinn could solve the energy crisis.”

  “Really?” asked Santa Anna, taken aback.

  “That’s whack,” noted Jay, pulling on the hookah.

  “Really. Imagine this humble djinn working for Consolidated Edison.”

  “Come on, Rah,” joked Bowie. “Think outside the bottle.”

  “Sometimes, to survive,” Raheem looked at Santa Anna. “A man finds he must do things he would otherwise abhor.”

  “Raheem,” Fakhri appeared through the rugs. “We have a disturbance outside, in the alley.”

  “Boone,” surmised Bowie.

  Gossitch remained calm but looked concerned. “Thank you for your hospitality, my friend.”

  Santa Anna stood, massaging his thighs which were cramped from being crossed.

  “The pleasure is all mine, my old friend.” The genie picked up his bottle and caressed it. “Do come back tonight,” Raheem invited the four men as they left. “We will have belly dancers.”

  11.

  7:50 A.M.

  “I can’t believe you mentioned pork around him,” admonished Bowie.

  “You got him started on the fuckin’ rugs,” retorted Jay.

  “Shit…” Santa Anna muttered as the four men entered the alley. Gossitch held up his hand, stopping Santa Anna and the two behind him.

  A black cat hissed, raising its hackles when it saw the four new arrivals. It turned and scurried away under the van.

  Boone had a forearm across a woman’s throat and was pulling her close to his body, the barrel of his Smith & Wesson pressed to the side of her head. One of the woman’s hands was clamped on the veined muscle of Boone’s forearm where his flannel had bunched up near the elbow. Her other hand, which was down between her and Boone’s thighs, gripped the curved blade of a Gurka kukri knife. The kukri was buried between Boone’s legs to the tang.

  “Just shoot him.” The woman’s voice was calm and clear. She wore black Capri pants and a black spaghetti-strapped tank top. “Shoot me if you have to, but definitely shoot this asshole.”

  She was talking to two other women in the vicinity. Both were similarly attired and armed with Heckler & Koch MP-5 submachine guns.

  Hamilton was lying flat on his stomach on the ground, a look of consternation on his upturned face. The woman who straddled him had a H&K trained on his back. An identical submachine gun in her other hand had tracked to Gossitch and the three men behind him as they’d entered the alley.

  A third, lone gunwoman stood her ground, the iron sights of her MP-5 focused on Boone.

  A discarded H&K lay on the ground before the woman Boone held.

  “We got us a situation here, Gossitch.” Madison called from the van where he knelt, the barrel of his Colt SMG not wavering as he drew down on the woman standing above Hamilton.

  “Sisters…” Gossitch held his hands up. “Let’s talk.” The pistol in his right hand hung from its guard on his thumb. “I’m just going to put this down, okay?”

  “Gossitch, call off your man.” The woman standing alone said it without her eyes leaving the sights of her MP-5.

  “Boone, we cool?”

  “I don’t know,” growled Boone. “This chicks got a knife to my balls. Think I’m getting a woody. You feel that on your back lady?”<
br />
  “That’s a nun who’s got a knife on you, Boone.” Gossitch smirked. “Sister Emmanuela, how have you been?”

  “Gossitch.” The way the woman Boone clasped said it sounded strained.“Emmanuela?” whispered Boone. “That’s a sexy name. And damn girl, you smell good.”

  “Shoot him, please!” Emmanuela called again to the two other women.

  “Let’s all just put our guns down and talk this out, okay?” offered Gossitch, who placed his Glock on the ground.

  Jay looked at Santa Anna. The black man shrugged and lay his own 9mm down. Bowie had already surrendered his weapon.

  Hamilton rolled over onto his back and looked up at the muzzle of the MP-5 holding steady above him and beyond it to the beautiful face of the woman who held it.

  “You wouldn’t shoot me, would you sister?” he asked.

  “In a heartbeat.” She planted a booted foot in his chest and pressed him to the ground.

  “We just came to talk, Gossitch.” The nun with the bead on Boone spoke. “Your men jumped the gun.”

  “This is the one who jumped the gun, Isabella,” corrected Emmanuela, still pressed firmly against Boone.

  “You feelin’ what I’m feelin’ lady?” Boone whispered to her. “The chemicals between us?”

  “You feel that?” Emmanuela raised the blade of her kukri an inch, causing Boone to rise up on the balls of his feet.

  “Damn...”

  “Boone.” Gossitch spoke clearly and firmly. “Take the gun off the lady. Now.”

  Boone looked from Bowie to Santa Anna to Jay. They had all put their pistols down. Hamilton was eating pavement. Madison still had his SMG in hand. Boone looked at Gossitch and Gossitch held his gaze.

  Boone buried his nose in the woman’s hair and breathed, then said “fine” and aimed the barrel of the Smith & Wesson at the sky.

  Emmanuela turned, the blade of the kukri still pressed to Boone’s crotch.

  “You like that, don’t you?” her voice was poison and promise.

  “More than you’ll ever know.” Boone was ready to back hand her with the revolver if he needed to.

  Emmanuela removed the blade and twirled the kukri a few times before sheathing it at her waist.

  Bowie whistled.

  “Impressive…” Hamilton noted. “Hey!” The woman above him used her booted foot to push his head back down again. One of her submachine guns was still on Boone. The other had tracked to cover Gossitch and the cluster of men with him.

  Boone’s eyes had never left Emmanuela. He looked her up and down. She wore some kind of elaborate branched charm on a chain around her neck. Her tits looked huge under the tank top.

  “You really a nun?” he asked her.

  “Not the kind you’re thinking of.”

  “Yeah, no nun I know got breast implants.”

  “They’re not implants.” The woman sounded angry.

  “We need to talk, Gossitch.” The third woman spoke.

  “Agreed, Daniella. But first we should all put our toys away, no?”

  “No. I don’t think so.” Daniella still had her submachine gun aimed at Boone, who didn’t seem to notice or care.

  “Mierda…” muttered Jay.

  “I mean, we’re all on the same side, here?” Gossitch tried. “Ultimately, right?”

  “Wrong, Gossitch,” said Daniella. “You and your men are common thieves. Me and my sisters are brides of Christ, sworn to—”

  “—sworn to uphold the covenant of Man, yadda yadda yadda,” Gossitch held his hands up. “I’m just trying to lighten the situation, Daniella, before we all blow each other in half here in Astoria.”

  “There’s a good chance that’s going to happen,” Daniella agreed.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have put my gun down,” said Jay.

  “Daniella,” called Emmanuela. “We need to go.”

  “No, Emmanuela. We need to talk to them.”

  “Maybe this isn’t the time or the place, Daniella,” remarked Gossitch.

  Emmanuela looked from Isabella to Madison crouched down beside the van, then back to Isabella. She nodded and the other woman did likewise.

  “He’s right, Daniella.” Emmanuela retrieved her Heckler & Koch from the ground. “We’ll come around.”

  “Is that a promise?” snarled Boone.

  The woman caught his gaze and stared at him. Boone didn’t back down.

  “Daniella,” as she said it, Emmanuela’s eyes didn’t leave Boone’s. “Next time I say shoot this buffoon, do it.”

  “Next time I will,” promised Daniella.

  Though they kept the barrels of their submachine guns lowered, the three women didn’t turn as they walked backwards down the alleyway. The black cat under the van dashed after them.

  Gossitch and his men watched them go.

  “They really nuns, Frank?” Santa Anna asked.

  “Yeah, but not the kind you’re thinking of.” Gossitch hot boxed his pack of Marlboros. “That, gentlemen, was ‘the Sisterhood’.”

  “I think that one broad kind of liked me.” Boone holstered his Smith & Wesson. The other men picked up their pistols.

  “Nah,” said Madison. “But she was definitely checking you out, Jay. What’s up with that?”

  “You’re imaging things,” he shot back. “That’s what’s up with that.”

  “Maybe she smelled the pussy too,” offered Bowie.

  “Come on, Jay,” said Boone. “Didn’t you ever want to fuck a penguin?”

  Jay ignored him.

  12.

  9:15 A.M.

  “You comin’ out tonight man?” Hamilton asked Jay.

  The din of the diner’s late morning breakfast crowd competed with their conversation in the booth. Santa Anna was on the pay phone near the entrance and Madison was in the bathroom.

  “Gotta see,” said Jay, flipping through the enormous laminated menu.

  “What, you hafta check with the woman first?” Hamilton asked it with a smile but Jay didn’t take it that way.

  “It’s not like that, Ham.”

  “Come on, Jay, it’s exactly like that. And it’s all cool, playa. I’m happy for you, man. I really am.”

  “It’s not like I’m a whipped boyfriend or—”

  “Said the whipped boyfriend.” Hamilton smiled and Jay had to laugh. “No, Jay, seriously, it’s all good.”

  “I know I haven’t been coming around as much.” Jay, Hamilton, and Madison socialized outside of jobs.

  “Bring the lady, man,” said Hamilton. “She got any friends?”

  They quieted down as Santa Anna slid into the booth with them.

  “Call your wife?” Hamilton asked him.

  “Yeah, let her know I was grabbing some breakfast with you guys. Thanks for inviting me.”

  “It’s good you came,” said Hamilton. “You been runnin’ with Gossitch for how long?”

  “Man,” Santa Anna thought back. “Mid-80s we started. Me and Bowie, few other guys.”

  “That why you guys have those Alamo names?” asked Jay.

  “Exactly. Everybody in that crew did.”

  “And we’re the fuckin’ Federalist Papers.” Madison joined them at the table.

  “You seen Lethal Weapon Four yet?” Hamilton asked Madison.

  “Yeah, that Jet Li is a bad ass fuck, ain’t he?”

  “Shit yeah,” agreed Hamilton. “How’d he strip that nine millimeter like that?” When the waitress came they ordered their food and made small talk about the Mets and Armando Reynoso.

  “Let me ask you guys a question,” Santa Anna asked after he’d swallowed a mouthful of eggs. “What’s up with the kid, Boone?”

  Hamilton rolled his eyes in his head.

  “He’s alright,” offered Madison. “So long as Gossitch keeps him on his leash.”

  “He took a shot at that vamp in the trailer.”

  “Might have been a good thing he missed,” said Jay.

  “Well, bet he didn’t miss on purpose,” s
tated Hamilton.

  Santa Anna asked what that meant.

  “Boone’s crazy,” explained Hamilton. “And he’s a bad shot.”

  “He missed at that range,” noted Santa Anna, “he sure is.”

  “Problem with Boone,” suggested Jay, “he don’t respect the game.”

  “Knew some guys like the kid Inside,” nodded Santa Anna. “But you know what? Most like him never get to see prison.”

  “I doubt you knew anybody like Boone in prison,” said Hamilton. “No disrespect, but I doubt you ever knew anyone like Boone.”

  “Yeah,” said Madison. “It’s a good thing he’s on our side. Even if he can’t shoot for shit.”

  Jay dabbed at his mouth with his napkin, reached down and checked his pager.

  “Be right back,” he said and left the table.

  “This woman of his, she something else, huh?” asked Santa Anna.

  “Man’s pussy blind,” sighed Hamilton. “I never seen her. Maddy has.”

  “Once, briefly,” noted Madison, sipping his coffee. “And yeah, she is a site to behold.”

  “That beautiful, huh?”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know to describe it…exotic I guess you could say.”

  “Exotic how? Like foreign?”

  “Well, she’s a white girl. But there’s definitely something Mediterranean or something about her. And she’s tall. Real tall.”

  “Oh,” said Hamilton, “I like tall women.”

  “How tall?” Santa Anna wanted to know.

  “How tall are you?” Madison asked him.

  “I’m six one.”

  “She’s taller than you. And I seen her without heels.”

  “Damn,” noted Hamilton. “Jay’s gotta look up to her, eh?”

  “Yeap.” Madison cut into the last of his pancakes.

  “She’s got that guy wrapped around her finger. Wouldn’t be surprised if he marries her.”

  “Nah.” Madison said it with his mouth full. “She don’t seem like the marrying type.”

  “What makes you say that?” asked Santa Anna.

  “I don’t know. What I do know,” he swallowed the food in his mouth. “I only met her the one time.”

  “Hey, look,” said Hamilton. “It’s Carmine.”

  He indicated a man at the counter. The guy was dressed well, slacks, a collared shirt, sport jacket with a rain coat on top of that. The woman behind the register was handing him his change. He returned the bills to an enormous roll of green and stuffed it in the pocket of his slacks.