by Matt Rogers
Chapter 27
The heart of the nightlife district resides on Sixth Street, located a short taxi ride from either the University or the State Capitol Building; both institutions known for their hard-partying ways. Sixth Street is merely the name designation for the street, it means nothing else and is bordered by Fifth and Seventh which also have what Sixth contains: every form and make of nightclub imaginable. Now, I mentioned before the four distinct club areas which Dallas boasts because its governors decided to zone the city in such a way as to promote the four districts and I think it was a brilliant idea. Dallas is a large and sprawling metropolis where people have decided to settle down and do what Dallas was born to do; make a ton of money. Since they settle down they have children who’ve grown up there so they understand its geography and can at least partially understand its roadway system. Since they understand approximately where things are located in Dallas they have the ability to grasp the concepts of where each of the four nightclub districts are in relation to each other. Austin wasn’t founded on commerce; it was founded first as the State Capitol and later integrated the University into its cultural makeup. Neither one of these cultural defining institutions leads one to think about settling down unless one is a hippy professor or a smarmy lobbyist because both institutions have one thing in common; a relatively short lifespan for those entering their sacred doors. Universities want you out in about four to six years and the people of the Great State of Texas usually want their representatives out in about, oh, one day after waking up with a hangover and wondering what in their inebriated minds they were doing when they voted the lying scoundrel of a cheat into office.
“I love Sixth Street” Phillip said with his excitable little boy-like charm dressed up in seven-foot murdering Werewolf clothing.
“Yeah, it’s pretty cool, I spent a lot of my college years down here” I replied.
“Is that why…?” the lovely Trudy began.
“Yeah, that’s why” I ended for her.
“What? What’s why?” Phillip inquired.
“Really, Phillip? Have you not been following along? He’s explaining why after eight years…”
“Six” I corrected.
“…why after six years he could only graduate with a degree which offers virtually no chance of actual employment” the gorgeous red-head said by way of explaining something I’m not sure I agreed with but couldn’t really argue with since I never took debate classes because I didn’t need them to graduate with my degree in ‘general knowledge’ with a minor in ‘lack of specificity’.
George and Vivian dropped me, Trudy and Phillip off on the preferred street of intoxication for the citizenry of Austin and while they went to the University to learn whatever it was they were looking for to thwart the will of the Ramos family and reoccupy their occupation it gave the three of us ample opportunity to partake in the establishments dedicated to the sole purpose of removing whatever tidbits of information the University had tried so expensively to impart on our younger generation.
“Ooh! A tattoo parlor.”
“Do you really want a tattoo, Phillip?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Ooh! Maybe we can all get tattoos?”
“Why would we all get tattoos, Phillip?” I asked.
“So we could show people we all belong to the same family; you know, kind of like the old motorcycle gangs did.”
“I don’t want a tattoo.”
“Why not?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because I don’t belong to a motorcycle gang and the sight of needles makes me faint?”
“It wouldn’t work for us anyway, Phillip” said Trudy.
“Why, Mistress?”
“Because they take this tiny needle, dip it in ink and jam it into your arm about a thousand times. Unfortunately, we heal too fast for the effects to take hold so… Johnny?... Johnny?”
I awoke to the sight of the beautiful red-headed Vampire with wicked oratory skills leaning over me as I lay on my back in the middle of the sidewalk where I’d fainted at the mere mention of needles being jabbed over and over into my pale, quivering flesh of virgin skin.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“Are you through with the needle poking story?”
“Yes.”
“Then I’m okay.”
“Hey, Johnny?”
“Yes, Phillip?”
“You want to go in there and get some lunch?” he asked, pointing out an establishment which was most definitely a nightclub, but this was the daytime so many nightclubs do what’s necessary to survive when their main patrons are still sleeping off their last night’s evening of debauchery; they serve the best darn lunchtime hamburgers ever invented.
“Heck yeah!” I answered because it’d been at least an hour since my last meal.
We entered what could only be described as a modern-day, wild-western saloon complete with a super-long bar, small round wooden tables and a bartender who appeared he’d been one of his own patrons the night before.
“Hi, folks, what can I get you?” he asked in the cool bartender way which makes you feel right at home and ready to drink some really strong man-liquor like scotch or whiskey or…
“I’ll have an iced tea.”
“Ooh, me too.”
“Make it three and some menus, please.”
I could tell he was disappointed and I couldn’t blame him. He’d probably spent a lot of hours learning how to make drinks which would send people into a state of complete insubordination and he probably envisioned himself working diligently behind a thirty-foot slab of polished mahogany made for the express purpose of sliding a flaming cocktail down its lacquered exterior to the waiting hands of an experienced sot but, instead, he got us; sitting in barstools available because no one in their right mind would drink a concoction which would send them to sleep at the prime time of two in the afternoon.
“Are you ready to order?” he asked us after about five minutes.
“Uh-huh” Phillip said.
“What can I get you?” he asked.
“Three Triple-Meat Rodeo Burgers with fries, please.”
“Okay. And what can I get for you, sir” he asked me and I knew right then that deliverer of substitute companionship for men who couldn’t find dates was going places. The man had observational skills. He took one look at Phillip and decided a seven-foot individual would not order only one hamburger so he took his order and moved on to me. Now, you may be wondering why he didn’t do the socially acceptable thing and ask Trudy what she wanted first?
NOPE, NEVER EVEN ENTERED MY MIND.
The obvious reason was because Trudy was doing the cute things girls do with a menu; she was reading the entire thing, word for word, in order to see if something jumped off the page and struck her as the best culinary delight available. This needs to stop. The taste buds and the brain are not on the same wavelength. We all know Spinach is good for us but our taste buds don’t like Spinach. But sometimes those clever menu writers word things in just such a way we get confused. Maybe we do like Spinach after all? Maybe we’ve just never had it prepared the proper way? So, we give in and order what they’re selling and we’re always left wondering… Why? Why did I do that? I know I don’t like Spinach…?
We finished eating and Phillip rose because he saw one of those video golf games; the one where you slam your hand down on this weird spinning orb and the imaginary golf ball takes flight on the screen giving you the feeling you actually could hit a golf ball if someone would give you the chance so you go to the driving range and discover you don’t actually have the ability to hit a stationary egg perched on a toothpick.
I LOVE THAT GAME!
“Trudy?”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“What happened to Yang and Merri Li?”
“Where was I?” she asked.
“Yang and the sneaky Vampire assassin were about ready to kill Merri Li so the Vampires could remo
ve Yin from power and Yang could take his pick of any Vampire he wanted.”
“Good summary.”
“Thank you.”
“Okay, so Yang lured Merri Li into the garden and the assassin Vampire snuck up behind her…”
“Hold on.”
“Yes?”
“I thought you said Superiors couldn’t sneak up on one another because you could smell them or something?”
“We can detect their pheromones, yes.”’
“What’s a pheromone?”
“Basically, one’s overall scent.”
“Oh, okay, please go on.”
“Sure, but I think you’re forgetting one thing.”
“What?”
“Yang’s ability to render our scenting abilities useless. Remember when Yin and Yang were in the Cave of Confrontation ripping the heads off the other baby Werewolves?”
“Yes.”
“Well, they were able to do it because Yang, while in the womb, developed the ability to render himself harmless to Yin in order to survive. Yang’s blood, his pheromones, made it appear to Yin that Yang was essentially a part of him.”
“So, what…? Okay I’m not following you?”
“Yin and Yang shared the same blood but Yin’s blood made him a perfect killing machine while Yang’s made him the opposite.”’
“What was that?”
“Sedation. Yang’s blood, his scent, calmed and tranquilized in a way Superiors not only did not see him as a threat, they couldn’t even register others who were threats if he was in the vicinity. He was a Cloak, Johnny, same as you. The only one who could scent other Superiors in Yang’s presence was Yin. Since they shared the same blood Yin was, in essence, scenting himself and thus impervious to Yang’s cloaking ability.”
“Let me get this straight. Superiors can smell others Superiors from a long way away, right?”
“Yes.”
“So you can’t get snuck up on.”
“Yes.”
“Unless Yang is around because his scent cancels out other Superiors’ scents.”
“Yes, well, now unless you’re around but back then it was Yang, correct.”
“But Yin could smell Yang because they had the same blood.”
“Yes, Yin could identify Yang because they shared the same blood which allowed him to scent other Superiors when they could not scent him.”
“Could we use sense instead of scent? It sounds like we’re talking about dogs.”
“Well, we are talking about Wolves but, okay, we’ll use sense if you want to.”
“Thank you , Trudy.”
“You’re welcome, Johnny.”
“So, because I blood-bonded with you, you can sense other Superiors when I’m around even though they cannot sense you.”
“Exactly.”
“What’s with this whole sensing thing? Why is it such an advantage?”
“Because it’s the best long-range detector of danger.”
“What about sight or sound?”
“You can hide behind trees and you can walk softly but you can’t change your pheromones.”
“What about perfume?”
“It only adds a layer of aroma; we can sense through those rose petals without a problem.”
“Okay, it gives you an advantage, so what?”
“Johnny, all Wolves are top predators. Now, there are differences between them, sure, like which one is stronger or which is faster but they’re still top killers on the planet. Now, the hierarchy was designed so the strongest Wolves would mate with the most cunning Vampires which would ensure the leaders of our clans would be the best among us. So in order to prove themselves Wolves square off and fight to see who the dominant Wolf is. You with me so far?”
“Yes, Wolves fight for their bride.”
“And Vampires are chosen according to cunning and guile.”
“Guile?”
“Cleverness.”
“Okay.”
“Well, what were to happen if two Alphas were to fight but one of them had both arms tied behind his back.”
“The one with the free arms would win.”
“Yes, and that’s what Yang gave Yin; an advantage over every other Werewolf he didn’t even need because he was already the most dominant Wolf in the Pack.”
“So Yin was a Super-Wolf?”
“With Yang in his presence, yes.”’
“What if Yang wasn’t in his presence?”
“Then he would be the most dominant Wolf but, as was shown when he was fighting the Elder Wolves of First Clan for the right to rule, he could be bested by three Wolves at once.”
“Wow, so what does this have to do with Merri Li?”
“Well, when the Vampire assassin was sneaking up on Merri Li she probably felt a little trepidation because while she could see Merri Li and hear Merri Li she could not scent Merri Li.”
“Because Yang was there.”
“Uh-huh. Yang was used to mask the presence of the approaching assassin.”
“And…?”
“The Vampire struck, Merri Li ducked and Yang removed the assassin’s head with a sword.”
“What? Why?”
“Remember what they offered for his help?”
“Yeah, any Vampire he wanted.”
“Well, he wanted Merri Li.”
Trudy got a call informing her Vivian and George were done and on their way to pick us up so we got off our barstools, paid the bartender and hollered for Phillip to meet us outside. We then went out into the blistering hot heat which is a Texas afternoon and after a minute or so Phillip joined us.
“Did you break all the video-golf records?” I asked Phillip as he appeared from the bar and restaurant.
“No, not exactly” he replied in kind of a weird way.
“Not exactly? What does that mean?” I asked.
“You know what, why don’t we walk a little ways down and wait for them around the corner?” he said as his eyes shifted back toward the restaurant.
“Around the corner? Then how would George and Vivian find…?” I started but didn’t finish because…
“Excuse me, sir?”
… the bartender from the establishment appeared.
“Yes?” I replied.
“Not you, sir” he said and I turned to look at Phillip because he was the only other ‘sir’ in the group but he had his back to us which I thought was kind of rude since it was impossible not to hear the nice bartender who’d just fed us tasty meat-burgers.
“Phillip? Hey, this man wants you” I said and received no reply.
“Hey, Phillip!” I waved my arms and got ignored.
“Phillip! Yoo-hoo, Phillip! Down here! It’s Johnny, Phillip!”
I probably would’ve kept on getting ignored if it weren’t for…
“Phillip?”
… Trudy, green-eyed, red-headed Goddess of everything good and Vampiry.
“Yes, Mistress?”
“What did you do, Phillip?” she asked.
“It wasn’t my fault, Mistress.”
“I didn’t say it was your fault, Phillip. Now, what happened?” she said politely.
“The machine cheated” he said.
“The machine cheated?” I asked.
“Yes, I rolled the little ball-thing perfectly and should’ve gotten a hole in one but the machine put me in a sand-trap instead.”
“You don’t think you might’ve mis-rolled?” I asked.
“No, I can’t mis-roll.”
“Really? That’s so cool! Hey, we’ve got to go bowling some time, I bet…” I began but was cut off when…
“The machine can’t cheat, sir.”
… the bartender spoke.
Okay, to any aspiring bartenders out there you need to get a few things correct.
WHO ARE YOU TALKING TO?
Be quiet, I’m feeling a tirade coming on. Okay bartenders, first, your job isn’t really hard. You pour overpriced liquid brain-fog into tiny glasses which usua
lly lead to projectile vomiting and unwanted child support payments. Second, you get paid well for doing so because you usually get ten to twenty percent of the total bill for slinging the absurdly expensive liquid of future regret and you spend about forty-five seconds per customer doing so. That’s some pretty good money there! Third, you get a little bit of power because you’re the one doling out what we want to buy and you can say ‘no’ by pointing at the stupid sign which reads ‘We Reserve The Right To Refuse Service’. That’s pretty arrogant, don’t you think?
NOT IF CUSTOMERS DON’T COME FIRST.
Name another business which hangs a sign saying ‘We Might Not Like You!’. So it’s understandable if sometimes you get the idea you’re pretty cool. Heck, you probably are because, after all, you got the job paying dentist’s wages for doing cafeteria work but don’t let it go to your head because…
“Phillip?”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“Are you going to kill the bartender?”
“I haven’t made up my mind yet, Johnny.”
… you might find yourself staring eye to eye with a seven-foot Werewolf who took offense when you challenged whether or not he was being truthful about putting his fist through your video game because it cheated him. How does a five-foot ten-inch bartender see eye to eye with a seven-foot Werewolf you ask?
HE GETS HIS HEAD REMOVED.
“I’m… I’m so sorry, sir… I must have been mistaken…”
He gets picked up by his hair, of course.
“Trudy?”
“Yes, Johnny?”
“What happened to Yang and Merri Li?”
“Well, after Yang beheaded the assassin Vampire they went to Yin and explained what they’d done. Yin listened, pondered what the conspiring Vampires tried to do and forgave Yang for cutting the attacker’s head off.”
“He forgave him?”
“Yes.”
“What did he need to forgive Yang for? He was only protecting Merri Li.”
“Yes, but it’s forbidden for a Wolf to kill a Vampire.”
“But Yang wasn’t a Wolf.”
“Yes he was and so are you.”
“I’m a Wolf?”
“Yes, and an exceptional one. Oh, you don’t have all the physical gifts of your brothers but you’re still a Wolf.”
“Cool; um, so what happened next?”
“What had to happen.”
“What was that?”
“The Wolves of First and Second Clan attacked.”