“My God, Jorick, where would they get a sticker like that?”
“I don’t know. Perhaps they made it.” He ran his hand around the door and then, with a shrug, tried the handle. Surprisingly, it swung open on silent hinges. “Someone forgot to lock up.” Though he joked, his eyes held guarded caution.
There was a switch just inside the door. Jorick pressed it and fluorescent tube lights snapped to life, illuminating another cement room with yellow and red warnings. The middle of the back wall was thick Plexiglas, like a window in a zoo cage. Inside she could see Kale. He stood with his palms pressed against the Plexiglas. If she hadn’t known who it was, she might not have recognized him. His blonde hair hung limp around his haggard face and his skin cleaved to his bones. She knew the cause: lack of blood. She’d seen the effects before, though they had been worse.
Kale regarded them with a mixture of curiosity and animosity. His eyes glittered dangerously in his shrunken face, and Katelina thought of Jorick’s warnings. Maybe she should have stayed in the van.
Jorick approached the trapped vampire and rapped on the Plexiglas with his knuckles. Kale tapped the glass in return. They couldn’t hear the sound.
A red button was on the wall to the right, below what looked like a speaker. Jorick pressed it. “Kale?”
The vampire inside nodded vigorously and tapped the glass again. Apparently it wasn’t a speaker, but a microphone.
“We’re going to get you out,” Jorick said simply.
Kale nodded again and the animosity in his eyes turned to hope.
Oren walked through the door and looked from one to the other. “The alarms?”
“Disabled. The question is how to get to Kale. Obviously the wall is strong enough to hold him in and us out.”
Oren cocked his head. ”Maybe. Kale isn’t much older than I am, but you’re older and stronger than both of us.”
While they discussed the next move, Katelina examined their surroundings. One side of the room was occupied by a bank of cupboards and counters. She opened them to find rubber gloves, masks and heavy white over gowns. There were also several glass containers and pointy silver instruments that seemed better suited to a surgery center. She shut the doors quickly, and noticed that the conversation had changed.
“-he’s been here since the twelfth,” Oren said. “Or that’s what the doctor wrote on his applications for research grants.”
Katelina mentally calculated the days. That was only nine days ago. They’d just seen him at The Guild’s citadel a day or two before that. He’d had to have been kidnapped almost the minute he got home!
“I imagine all of the actual research is down here,” Oren continued as his eyes made a circle of the room. “It seems uncannily well prepared.”
Jorick sounded tense, “I’ve been thinking the same thing. Either they’ve had a vampire in captivity before or-”
“Or someone is helping them who knows too much,” Oren finished. “We can discuss this later, the matter at hand is how to free him.”
Jorick moved back to the Plexiglas wall. To the left was a door covered in warnings and red letters. Beside it was a keypad and slot to swipe a keycard. He studied both and commented, “I find it odd that there’s no guard on duty.”
“Yes. It’s too quiet and everything has been too easy.”
“Unless they aren’t expecting a rescue. They could be under the impression that vampires are just wild animals.” Jorick’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “It wouldn’t be a new idea.”
Kale looked as impatient as Katelina felt. “Are you going to get him out or what?”
Oren glared at her. “Be silent and let him think!”
“You!” She turned to the nearest cupboard and slammed the door open. Her anger turned into smugness; on the back of the door hung a keycard on a silver ring. She snagged it from the hook and held it up. “Maybe this would help?”
Oren snatched it from her and strode towards the door. Kale nodded enthusiastically and mouthed something they couldn’t hear. Oren swiped the card and a tiny beep sounded. He reached for the door handle. Kale suddenly shook his head emphatically. Before anyone noticed his reaction, the door was open and a high pitched alarm screamed.
“The code!” Kale shouted as he burst through the door and gestured to the keypad . “You have to swipe the card and type a code in!”
Oren swore loudly and Jorick shouted back, “What’s the code?”
“I don’t know!” Kale’s wide eyes shot around the room. “Forget it! Let’s get out of here!”
Jorick hesitated and then agreed. He hurried to Katelina and flung her over his shoulder. She shouted that she had feet, but he ignored her and raced through the door, Kale on his heels. Oren stayed behind. As they ran for the stairs, she could hear the sound of smashing glass.
They dashed through the empty building and burst through the front doors into the night. Jorick ran for the van, much faster than Katelina could have gone on her own, Kale keeping pace. They’d almost reached it when wailing sirens and flashing lights came into view.
Jorick groaned. “You have to be joking!”
Hectia suddenly stepped into the light. She was wearing the same swishy coat Katelina had last seen her in. The dark young woman at her side was new. “It’s the police! I didn’t agree to this!”
“Then go!” Jorick jerked the van’s driver door open and shoved Katelina inside like a sack of contraband. “The last thing we need is a fledgling, anyway!”
“That fledgling just helped you!” Hectia shrieked, but she swallowed further argument and grabbed the young woman’s arm. “Come on Jordan, they’re on their own now.”
Jorick’s attention was drawn to the cop car that squealed to a stop. The doors popped open and, like pastry from a toaster, two cops followed, their guns out, the doors in front of them like shields.
“Step away from the vehicle and put your hands up!” One of them leveled his weapon at Jorick and Kale.
Katelina whimpered, but Jorick only forced her deeper into the cab. “Be quiet and stay down!”
The officer shouted his instructions again and Jorick raised his hands. He met Kale’s eyes, as if to impart some secret plan. Instead of doing as instructed, Kale bound towards the policeman, snarling. The cop yelled again, his voice high with fear and his gun shaking in his terrified hands.
“Kale!”
The emaciated vampire crashed into the passenger door of the cop car. Gun shots echoed over the screaming alarm and the sirens. Kale’s body jerked at the impact of bullets, and he stumbled backwards. The cop stepped forward, confidence in his eyes, but Kale pulled himself straight and let loose a wordless howl of inhuman rage. He grabbed the car door and ripped it away as though it weighed nothing. The cop screamed and more shots followed. They did nothing to stop Kale. In a single, swift motion he pinned the cop against the car and tore into his throat with his fangs.
Katelina covered her face with her hands. She could hear the second policeman screaming and shouting for back up, his words a tumbled confusion of fear and disbelief. His babble melted into a shriek and she looked to see Oren pin him against the car. The vampire’s lips were curled back from his fangs and he slammed the man’s head against the roof of the vehicle before he snapped his neck.
Oren dropped the body to the snow and turned towards the van as a second car came screeching to a halt some distance away. The doors opened and three more policemen leapt out, their weapons drawn. Without warning, they fired wildly. Few of their bullets hit their mark, and those that did were little more than annoyances.
Katelina stared with wide, horrified eyes. How had it all gone wrong? How had the cops gotten there that fast? She sought Jorick in the bedlam, and wished she hadn’t. He was behind the new arrivals. She watched as he silently pounced. He crushed the first cop’s throat. The other policeman bombarded him with a terrified spattering of bullets. Jorick shouted in anger and grabbed him. He wrenched the gun from his hand and threw it away. The
n he slammed the man to the ground. Though Katelina hid her eyes, his screams burned in her ears.
The last shrieks died away and she heard Jorick shout, “Get to the van!”
She looked and again wished she hadn’t. Jorick stood in the bloody snow, holding the limp body of the third cop. Oren and Kale ran towards her. Blood dripped down Kale’s chin and splattered across Oren’s button up shirt.
The sound of an approaching car roared, growing louder with each second. Katelina threw herself out of the driver’s seat just as Kale leapt over it. He landed half in the passenger seat and half on the floor between them, then rolled through the curtain into the relative safety of the back. Before Katelina could shield herself, he was gone and Oren was in the driver’s seat, the keys in the ignition.
A canary yellow sports car tore around the corner and only missed taking off the van’s door by inches as it slid to a stop next to them. Katelina immediately recognized the car, and the redheaded vampire who bounded out of it. It was Verchiel; the Executioner that Jorick hated.
As if to demonstrate his own vampire skills, one minute Verchiel was next to the van and the next he was practically in it, leaning over Oren with a broad, fanged grin on his face. “Making a mess are we?”
Oren’s eyes bulged. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“Let’s call it a race, and I won. Look! There’s little Kately! How are you? Not injured, I hope?”
“That’s not my name!” Since he’d overheard her mother use that name, he insisted on calling her by it.
Jorick was suddenly there. He grabbed Verchiel and spun him away, slamming him into the van. “You!”
“Well hello! How nice to see you again!” Verchiel let his eyes focus on the carnage behind Jorick. “I see now why they call you The Hand of Death, but really, isn’t this a little sloppy?”
Jorick roared and Verchiel laughed. “I suppose you’ve got him already?” He leveled his gaze with Jorick’s. “I suggest you get out of here as fast as that thing can go. There are more cops on the way and you might be interested to know that Senya and a few of her closest acquaintances should be here any minute to bust your friend out.”
Jorick’s face twitched, but he wordlessly tossed Verchiel aside and climbed into the van. The motor roared and Oren slammed the vehicle into gear. Katelina had a final glimpse of the redheaded Executioner waving cheerfully before they rounded the corner and he disappeared from sight.
Coming 2012
www.JoleeneNaylor.com
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Joleene Naylor is the author of the glitter-less Amaranthine series, a world where vampires aren’t for children. As a compliment to the novel series, she has also written several short story collections and the Amaranthine Files encyclopedia..
In what little time is left she watches anime and updates her blogs, all from a crooked Victorian house in Villisca, Iowa. Between her husband and her pets, she is never lonely, and should she ever disappear one might look for her on a beach in Tahiti, sipping a tropical drink and wearing a disguise.
Ramblings from the Darkness at www.JoleeneNaylor.com
You never know what you’ll find in the shadows…..
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A special bonus sample of Shades of Plaid by Jonathan Harvey.
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Warning: The following story contains material of a horrendous and graphic nature. It is not suitable for impressionable young children, pregnant mothers, elderly people sporting a heart condition, members of PETA, members of the SPCA, bleeding heart tree huggers, or my great Aunt Abigail. You have been warned. This is no joke.
I am a horrible person. Don’t be so quick to shake your head. You have to hear me out. I must live with the fact that I am horrible. I don’t want to be this way. I want to be better. The Lord knows I don’t want to be the monster I am today. The problem is that I can’t help myself. I’m a slave to my own actions, because I suffer from a terrible addiction. Though, I’ve tried my hardest to fight it, I always find myself in need of another fix. I know that I should get some help. I should seek council, but I can’t. Fear paralyzes me and the shame is just too great.
It’s taking every ounce of strength I possess to write this, because I don’t want anyone knowing just how awful I can be. You can only imagine just how hard it is for me to share my dirty little secret with you. I hope when you hear this, and you hear my story, that you won’t hate me. It’s a great fear of mine that you might decide to leave me and never speak to me again. And, please don’t start looking for rotten vegetables to throw at me! Know that I’m sharing this with great hesitation. All right, I guess it’s best that I come right out and say it:
I am a kitten juggler and I’ve been juggling live kittens for several years now.
I knew this was going to happen! Please don’t look at me that way. I didn’t want to become a kitten juggler. Juggling kittens is something I accidentally stumbled upon. Now that I’ve started, I can’t stop. Please let me explain. I just ask that you hear my sad story before you go and make any quick judgments. It could happen to anyone. It could happen to you!
It all began one day at lunch time. I was making one of my favorites: tuna salad. We owned a kitten at the time. I think his name was Mr. Fluffy Knickenbottems. (I know it’s a ridiculous name, but that’s the name he came with.) Anyway, I was mixing the tuna salad when the phone rang. I only left the tuna for a second when Mr. Fluffy Knickenbottems leapt onto the counter and began to eat my lunch. You must understand the difficulty of my position. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and I was hungry. When I saw Mr. Fluffy Knickenbottems eating my lunch, I snapped.
“Nooooo!” I screamed. (This scared the census taker on the other end of the phone, and he hung up. Unfortunately, I didn’t think of this as good fortune. I was too distracted by the cat.) I rushed over to the counter, grabbed the kitten, and hurled him across the room. At that very moment, I had become a kitten hurler. It was the first step in my most terrible, insidious addiction.
I can’t describe the feeling of power that I got when I hurled that kitten. What a rush! I immediately went after the kitten to hurl it again. The kitten saw me coming and ran for cover under the couch, but I said, “Here kitty, kitty, kitty, sweet kitty.” Kittens are not as smart as people think they are. I got in four good hurls before the cat caught on. (Incidentally, the theory that kittens always land on their feet is disproved when the kitten is hurled at high speeds.) The more I hurled the kitten, the more I wanted to hurl it. It was an awful cycle, but only the gateway to the even worse behavior I practice today.
It was at this time when I remembered reading an ad in the paper that said “Free Kittens for a good home.” I looked up the address and I was on my way. Knowing from experience that kittens weren’t as durable as one might think, I decided to get as many kittens as I could. It took a lot of finagling. I found myself saying terrible things to get my way, such as: “You don’t want to give kittens to that old lady. Old ladies use kittens so they can eat the cat food. It’s cheaper for them.” Yes, I shocked even myself! The worst was when I said, “I think that man owns a Chinese restaurant. Do you really want to let him leave here with cats?” I didn’t make any friends, and I was more than a little underhanded. But, I had an addiction starting; I can’t be held responsible for my actions. Besides, all my villainy had paid off. I went home toting six little kittens.
When I got home I hurled the little black and white kitten straight away. Something was wrong. Not only did it scratch me, but the kitten didn’t hurl the same. I think the kitten was too light to be hurled properly. I was very disappointed. I picked up a second kitten; it was also pretty light. I tossed it into the air a couple of times in order to test its weight. That’s when the wheels in my head started turning; I took two kittens and started tossing them into the air alternately. It was a challenge, but I was getting it down. It was fun, and this way, I would no longer have to chase the kitte
ns. Before I knew it, I was juggling three, then four, then five, and soon all six kittens. It only took me a few short months, but I was starting to get good.
I thought I’d take my new found skills out into the world. This was when I learned that the general populace found kitten juggling wrong and repulsive. That meant I had to find my audience in the underground. I was getting gigs and making money. Over the course of time, my new lifestyle started to get the better of me. I was tired of spending my days in seedy clubs, and ducking the police whenever they did their little raids. Also, I was rubbing elbows with the wrong sort of people. The problem was, I’d become hooked. I’ve tried to quit several times since then, but every time I see a cute little kitten I automatically think of juggling. Pity me, for it’s a sad thing.
Next week, I think I might swallow my pride and go to a KJA (Kitten Jugglers Anonymous) meeting. I heard they have a really good twelve step program. In the meantime, I’m going to do my best to curb my kitten juggling habit. Some friends of mine have removed all the kittens from my home. If they see me approaching a pet store, or a person who has kittens, they’re quick to perform an intervention. It’s good to have a faithful support group, even though the number of true friends seems to be dwindling. The majority of my friends have left me. I’m very thankful for the good ones who have stayed with me. They’re always encouraging me to find something new to help me forget the kittens. I need a new hobby to help occupy my time. Perhaps I can still juggle, but instead of kittens I can juggle more conventional things. I like the sound of that. I can quit this kitten thing and still feel good about keeping my skills up. I think I should start right away. I’ve heard that hamsters are relatively inexpensive and really a challenge. I am so there.
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Jonathan Harvey lives in Kingsland Georgia, and he wants you to know that he is an amazing fellow. What makes him so amazing? He’s one of few people who has done almost everything he wanted to do when he was growing up and has still found time to watch many hours of quality television.
101 Tips for Traveling with a Vampire Page 3