by AnonYMous
For a few seconds he held the bloodied flesh out in front of the werewolf, allowing the dying eyes to stare at it as they slowly began to roll upwards in their sockets. After checking that Pedro’s pupils had disappeared up into his skull, the Kid released his grip on the dying body, and watched it crumple to the floor. He then tossed the bloody Adam’s apple nonchalantly over the bar, where it hit Sanchez in the face and slipped to the ground.
The five other werewolves and the hooker at the table in the middle of the barroom had remained motionless all through the attack, paralysed by the fear that had gripped them. All had desperately hoped that Pedro would fight back and triumph. Now, one look into the eyes of the Bourbon Kid as he turned slowly to face them was all it took to convince them how matters stood. None of them wanted to hang around, and they rapidly came to their senses, threw their chairs back and charged for the exit. Only the hooker remained seated, hoping to be left alone.
The wolves were not quick enough. The Kid produced a wooden-handled knife with a bright ten-inch blade from within his dark robe, raised it above his shoulder and then launched it at the partly open door. It effortlessly penetrated the open door, the tip coming out on the other side. The door was struck with such ferocity by the blade that it swung on its hinges and slammed shut, embedding the pointed end of the knife in the side of the door frame, thereby bolting the door shut and trappping everyone inside. That blade is going to take some shifting, Sanchez thought, his mind fixing on trifles at the moment of greatest danger.
The werewolves all stopped dead. Turning to face the bar, they watched in open-mouthed horror as the Kid lifted his dark hood up over his head. He then pulled one of his trademark Skorpion automatic pistols from inside his robe, pointed it down at the lifeless bloodied mess of the body on the floor by his feet, and blasted a silver bullet through Pedro’s face. Gobbets of blood and matter sprayed everywhere, making splashing noises as they hit the walls. The Kid looked back up at his audience and focused his glare on them once more. All that was could be seen within the dark cowl were the whites of his eyes.
Fearing for their undead lives, the wolfmen began to back away. Their tormentor raised his free hand to indicate that they should remain still.
‘Bartender,’ he snarled in his unmistakable gravelly tone, without even looking over at Sanchez.
‘Yeah?’
‘Top up my drink while I redecorate your bar.’
Forty
Robert Swann wanted this mission over and done with, and he wanted to get his hands on Kacy. There were two things that could bring this case to a close. The first was if Dante found and identified the monk Peto. To Swann, that didn’t look like it was going to happen any time soon because Dante was too much of a loser. The second thing that might bring the case to an end would be if Dante was identified as an impostor by the vampires and killed as a result. One of those two things would happen tonight, Swann was convinced of it. As he pulled the syringe out of Dante’s arm after the usual early-evening injection of the blood-cooling serum, he took a long look at Kacy. She was gazing like a love-struck teenager at her moron boyfriend. Swann longed for the day when a woman might look at him like that. Especially a hot one, like Kacy. He had put on his smartest grey chino trousers and a clean black shirt after remembering how she had seemed to warm to him when he’d worn a suit the previous night.
‘Have a good night, buddy,’ he said to Dante as he took the empty syringe into the bathroom to clean and sterilize it.
Dante ignored Swann and pulled the sleeve on his black sweatshirt back down. He was sitting on the double bed in their room next to Kacy, with Roxanne Valdez hovering over them. She had relayed to Dante the whole story of the previous evening when Kacy and Swann had got drunk together over dinner. It hadn’t gone down well so Kacy wasn’t about to rile him further by dressing in anything sexy that might get Swann’s eyes popping out of his head. She had just thrown on a pair of jeans and a white sweatshirt. Dante tugged at the sleeve of her shirt and pulled her towards, him planting a kiss on her lips.
‘This is all gonna be over tonight, babe, I can feel it,’ he said confidently. ‘I’m startin’ to get used to the feel of this serum and now that I’m well in with these vampire guys I can start askin’ a few more questions. I feel good about tonight.’
Kacy got to her knees on the bed and kissed him on the forehead.
‘I’ll stay up and wait for you. Be good.’
‘Love you, Kace.’
‘Love you too.’
Valdez stepped towards the couple on the bed. ‘C’mon now, Dante,’ she said. ‘No time like the present. The sooner you get going, the sooner you’ll find the monk. I’ve a good feeling about tonight, too. It’s Halloween and everyone will be drunker’n hell and in good spirits. So there’s a good chance the monk will make contact with you if he gets plasterered like everyone else.’
Dante kissed Kacy on the lips once again and got up from the bed. Roxanne tossed his sleeveless black leather Shades jacket over to him and he caught it on his way out of the room, slinging it over his shoulder as he went. He walked through the sitting room and into the hall. Reaching the front door of the apartment, he pulled it open and looked back at Kacy one last time. She was still sitting on the bed on her knees gazing lovingly back at him, so he gave her a quick sexy wink and stepped out into the corridor.
As Dante was closing the door behind him, Swann was coming back out of the bathroom with the sterilized syringe in his hand. ‘Gone has he?’ he asked, smiling broadly.
Kacy nodded back at him from the bed, a sad look spreading across her face at the thought of Dante out in the perilous world of the vampires once more. She would have looked a good deal sadder if she’d known what Swann was so happy about. When he had given Dante his nightly injection of the serum, he had actually filled the syringe with water instead of the blood coolant.
Swann wanted Dante out of the picture, and by injecting him with nothing more than water, he had ensured the vampires would finally recognize him for the impostor he was.
Forty-One
Detective Randy Benson stopped in at the Olé Au Lait for a quick caffeine fix. He was on his way to a secret appointment in an hour’s time. It was an important one, but he was a tad early for it. He hadn’t wanted to hang around at police headquarters because he had discovered something that he didn’t want De La Cruz or Hunter to know. And he was only too aware that the building was the perfect setting for an assassination attempt courtesy of the Bourbon Kid, so a quiet coffee on his own in the always peaceful environment of the Olé Au Lait was perfect. Or at least, it should have been.
Flake was kind enough to bring his latte over to him, along with a selection of doughnuts on a silver plate. He pointed a couple out and the pretty young waitress placed them on a white china dish set beside his coffee on the small circular wooden table at which he had seated himself.
As she walked back behind the counter he took a moment out to admire her pert little ass as it wiggled away beneath her short black skirt. It really was a miracle she hadn’t been bagged by one of the local vampires by now. Maybe if things went well for him tonight he’d pop back and give her a nibble. For the time being he would have to make do with the sticky chocolate ring or the frosted bun she had left him.
Just as he was about to take a bite out of the chocolate-covered doughnut his evening took an unexpected turn. A previously overlooked but extremely burly man in a suit who had been sitting at the counter stood up and walked over to Benson’s table. The man had a smooth-shaved head and was wearing a pair of dark sunglasses. His suit was a shiny silver colour and looked expensive. As he approached Benson his true size became more and more apparent. Every step that brought him closer made him look larger, until finally he was standing well over six feet tall and a fair few feet wide right in front of the detective.
‘Can I help you?’ asked Benson.
There wasn’t another chair at Benson’s table so without looking, the man reached out with
his left hand and pulled a chair from the next table. The fact that there was a young man sitting on the chair didn’t bother him. The fresh-faced, long-haired student who had been sitting and sharing some pleasant conversation with his girlfriend was sent sprawling to the floor as his seat disappeared from under him.
‘What the fuck?’ he shouted, startling several of the café’s other customers. He was tensed up and ready for confrontation, but all it took was a single glance at the face of the man who had removed his chair to make him wisely choose to find an unoccupied chair from somewhere else. Benson had coolly observed what the burly man had done and watched as the giant sat down opposite him.
‘You know, some people don’t like that,’ he advised his visitor.
‘We all have things we don’t like,’ the man replied, barely moving his thin, colourless lips.
‘True enough. You know, one thing I don’t like is strangers sittin’ themselves down at my table when I’m havin’ coffee. Why don’t you find somewhere else to sit?’
‘I want to sit here.’
Benson wasn’t troubled by the man’s size. It didn’t matter how big he was. The undead detective was more than capable of dealing with just about anyone these days. He leaned across the table a little and took a bite out of his chocolate ring.
‘Doughnut …’ It was one of those comments that might have been construed as a statement or a question. The burly man took it as a question.
‘No thanks. Bad for your arteries, you know. Now put the fucking thing down. You take another bite out of that while I’m talking to you and I’ll rip you a new asshole.’
Benson sensed real conviction in the man’s tone. Although caution wasn’t overly necessary he chose to exercise some anyway, more out of curiosity than anything else. He put the doughnut back down on the china dish.
‘Okay, big boy. Just who the fuck are you?’
The man leaned over the table a little until their faces were only six inches apart.
‘I’m your superior.’
Benson wasn’t in the least bit impressed. ‘You know, I answer directly to the Chief of Police in this town. And I can assure you, he’s not my superior either. That’s all for show. I’m pretty much top dog in Santa Mondega, so no matter how superior you think you are, I’m just that little bit above ya. Ya get me?’
The burly man sat back and smiled. A confident smile. It didn’t worry Benson, but it confused him. Who the fuck was this guy?
‘You’re looking to take over from Archie Somers, or Armand Xavier, whatever the fuck he called himself, aren’t you?’ said the man.
‘I’ve already taken over from Archie Somers, thanks, buddy. Don’t need no help from you for that.’
‘Somers and I used to be friends, you know, back when he called himself Armand Xavier.’
‘Well, bully for you.’
‘Then he double-crossed me. I wouldn’t let him marry my daughter, so he and his partner in crime, Ishmael Taos, set me up. Pretty nasty business. Imprisoned me in a mummified state in a tomb for quite a while. I’m talking a lot of centuries here.’
Benson’s stomach tightened. ‘Say again?’
‘That’s right.’ The man removed his sunglasses to reveal the final, incontrovertible evidence. He had a bright green translucent stone where his right eye should have been. ‘I’m the boss. Call me Dark Lord if you like. You could try calling me Mummy, but I wouldn’t advise it. Some people call me Mr E, but that name is fast becoming redundant. Now if you wanna wipe that smug bacon-sandwich smirk off your face, you can call me Rameses Gaius. That’s what my friends call me. And you, young sir, have the chance to be my friend.’
‘Gaius? But how?’
‘Never you mind. I’ve been watching you, Benson. You and your two friends De La Cruz and Hunter – bunch of fucking idiots you are, the lot of you. Dragging werewolves in with you to do your dirty business. Have you no self-respect?’
‘Well
‘Hush. I’m talking.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Yes, you are. You and your cronies meddled in my business. You went looking for the Bourbon Kid without my blessing.’
‘I didn’t realize we had to …’
‘Hush.’
Gaius spoke softly but firmly and Benson sensed that another interruption would be most unwise.
‘I already had a plan in place to find the Bourbon Kid, and it didn’t involve stirring him up like you’ve done. You now have to take care of your mistake. I could have finished him off in his sleep, but now you and your crew have made the whole thing a sight trickier. So you’re gonna have to pay me back.’
Benson waited long enough to be sure it was his turn to speak.
‘Go on. Whadda ya want me to do?’
‘All I need from you is the Bourbon Kid’s name and the Holy Grail.’
‘That’s all?’
‘That’s all.’
‘Well, that’s easy. I can give you his name right now.’
‘Really?’ Gaius betrayed his surprise that Benson had such information to hand.
‘Yeah. He’s a John Doe.’
‘What?’
‘A John Doe. Accordin’ to research by a woman named Stephanie Rogers who was on the case, his mother never gave him a name. She didn’t want any evil sorts coming after him when he was a kid, so in order to keep him out of any national records he was never registered at birth.’
‘How could he have gotten by without a name, though?’
‘Shit, man, I dunno. Maybe they called him John Doe when he was around the house? How the fuck should I know?’
Rameses Gaius thought for a while before speaking. ‘Fascinating. Good work, Benson. Now all I have to do is what his father and Xavier did to me.’
‘Which is?’
‘Mind your own business.’
‘’Kay.’
‘Good. So far you’ve done moderately well in righting your mistake. That’s half your job done already. Now all you have to do is get me the Holy Grail. Do not mistake me – I know you have it. Once you deliver it to me I’ll make you my High Priest.’
‘Which means what, exactly?’
‘You don’t know what comes with serving as my High Priest?’
‘I get to polish your eye once a week?’
A second figure that Benson hadn’t previously noticed approached from the counter area. A much smaller figure than that of Gaius, but one with a magnificent physique. This was the woman all male vampires desired above any other. Jessica, the Angel of Death. She was dressed in her traditional all-black attire, a pair of tight-fitting black leather pants and a thin black silky blouse that was unbuttoned to about halfway down.
Reaching the table, she stood to the right of Gaius and leaned over until her face was barely a breath away from Benson’s, and her cleavage was practically under his chin. And what a beautiful face it was. Smooth as silk, with enormous, beautiful brown eyes, and shiny dark shoulder-length hair that perfectly framed the creamy white skin of her face.
‘I could be all yours, honey,’ she whispered in what was without a doubt the sexiest voice he had ever heard. ‘Think about it. You and me, a four-poster bed, some whipped cream and a set of handcuffs. Whadda you say, huh? I know you wanted me before, but now I’m offering you the chance to have me when I’m conscious.’
Holy Shit! The Angel of Death was a goddess, instinctively coveted by all vampires, though only accessible to the most powerful. Benson could feel his trousers tightening already. The power was there for the taking, and all he had to do was go and fetch the Holy Grail. Child’s play.
‘So, are you up to it?’ Jessica asked.
‘Fuck, yeah. I am,’ Benson replied eagerly.
‘Then what are you waiting for?’
Benson downed his still-steaming coffee in one mouthful. ‘I’m right on it,’ he said, standing up and knocking the china dish off the table with the unexpected bulge in his pants as he turned to get past Jessica. She threw him an admiring glance. ‘Don’t
be all night,’ she cooed.
Benson, slightly flustered and hugely excited, rushed out of the coffee shop. He knew that in order to get the Holy Grail he might have to take on the Bourbon Kid. That would no doubt be a very tough proposition, but he had a little something in his favour. A secret weapon he had chosen not to share with his buddies De La Cruz and Hunter, or now with his new friends Rameses Gaius and Jessica. He just had to go pick it up. Then all the power he craved, and the woman he desired would be his for the taking.
In fact, he might even be about to become more powerful than Gaius.
Forty-Two
Dante arrived at the Nightjar in the nick of time. As he approached, the big bouncer, Uncle Les, was preparing to close the front door for the night.
‘Yo, new boy,’ the bouncer called out when he saw Dante heading along the deserted street in the bar’s direction. ‘You better hurry your ass up if you wanna get in. We’re shuttin’ the doors early.’
Dante took off his wraparound sunglasses and broke into a polite jog to show the bouncer that he was hurrying his ass up, as requested.
‘Wassup, Uncle? Private party or somethin’?’
‘Nah. Trouble headed this way. Bourbon Kid’s back in town, ’pparently. On another killing spree, if reports are true.’
Dante reached the entrance and stepped inside the bar. Uncle Les secured the door behind him.
‘Thanks, man. Could be an early close tonight, then?’ Dante asked hopefully.
‘Or a lock-in. Literally,’ the bouncer replied.
Taking a look around the bar area, Dante could see that the place was buzzing tonight, packed wall to wall with vampires. It seemed like they’d all heard the bad news about the Kid’s return and decided to congregate in one place. Safety in numbers, he supposed. Either that, or they just loved Halloween.