Honor at Stake (Love at First Bite Book 1)

by Declan Finn

  “What da hell do you think you're doing in our park?”

  “Right on cue,” he muttered, again for Amanda's ears only. He looked over at the approaching gathering of thugs. They were the punks who had massed on the border of the park. It was time for them to make their mark, push around some people, the usual macho idiocy that started whatever bar fights alcohol didn't.

  “We're just having a LARP,” Marco said.

  The leader of the gathering blinked. “You're doing what?”

  “LARP-ing. Live action role playing game. Mostly vampire.”

  The punk smiled. “Really? Well then, we wouldn't want to mess with your game, now would we?”

  Marco's smile turned into a grin. He grinned in a way that made even Amanda nervous. “No, you wouldn't.”

  “Yeah, we wouldn't…bitch.”

  Marco looked at Amanda. “I sincerely hope he wasn't referring to you. Otherwise I would be quite put out.”

  “Really?” the thug asked. “Wouldn't want that. Might upset yo' 'ho.”

  Even Amanda had to smile at that one. “Does he believe himself to be pirate?” she asked, her Russian accent thickening. “Yo ho, yo ho, like that?”

  Marco shrugged, playing off her. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

  Zeng and Vega had taken their top two officers in their respective gangs and moved themselves into position between their people and the newcomers. “You don't want to do this, man,” Zeng said to the thug.

  “Or what?” the adversarial punk said

  “I believe,” Marco said, his diction becoming more and more acute as he became angrier, “that Mister Nguyen wants to say that you wouldn't like me when I'm angry.”

  The punk laughed. “Really?” He made a series of hand gestures. Marco chuckled, and the leader’s eyes narrowed. “What's so funny?”

  A quick glance made Marco chuckle. “You're wearing blue.”

  “So?”

  Marco stepped into the fellow, his shoulders hunching up and down slightly, mirroring the other man's posture in grotesque parody. “You think you gangsta, son?”

  With some well-practiced flailing of his arms, the other one angrily replied, “Who you calling son, punk? I know I's gangsta.”

  Amanda listened as the two of them started slipping into what sounded like an urban regional accent. The deterioration on both of them was startling. She was tempted to intercede, but didn't want to interrupt Marco's play.

  “You born in the city?” Marco asked.

  “O' course.”

  “Then I say again,” Marco replied, his diction taking a sharp turn for the better. “You are wearing blue.”

  The thug looked down at his clothing, as if to confirm this fact. He looked back up to Marco. “And?”

  “That is a color of the Crips.”

  “So, bee-atch?”

  “So, son, born in New York, you're using West Coast hand gestures.”

  The aggressor blinked, and took a step back. Amanda could almost feel his momentum deteriorating. But does that mean he backs down, or does he become more aggressive?

  “You calling me a liar?”

  Marco's smile quirked, and his brows arched. “If your posse here knew anything, then you would have already been in a dumpster for being a poser.”

  The thug scoffed. “How about I beat you in front of your ho?”

  Marco went deadly still. Vega and Zeng both tensed. Several of the other Tiger-Dragon gang members took a step back. Amanda had no idea what they were expecting. Did they believe Marco would literally explode, leveling the surrounding city block?

  Marco's voice came out, low and simple, even light, like a gentle whisper. “I believe you want to be more polite.”

  “You do, huh?”

  He nodded, his manner level and cool-headed. “Oh yes.”

  There was a tightening in the eyes, and the back foot tensed.

  Marco's smile widened.

  The thug launched a knee for Marco's groin, but Marco had already been in motion, his own leg coming up. The knee glanced off of Marco's leg, and slid off to one side, moving right past Marco.

  Then it was his move.

  The leg Marco used to deflect the kick was what he used to lunge forward. He drove in with an elbow, smashing through cartilage and bones in thug's nose, and a hammer blow with the same hand came back, right into his target's face. He followed up with a roundhouse punch that launched teeth into the air, as well as a mist of blood. Marco's hands shot forward, grabbing the back of his attacker's head, and pulled, making it meet his knee in a sickening crunch, and the punk's head snapped back up, running right into Marco's downward elbow.

  The wannabe Crip sprawled out on the concrete, a sneaker on the back of his neck. Marco's eyes were alight with adrenaline, his grin bearing teeth that appeared particularly sharp and flesh-rending. His eyes swept over the man's crew, back and forth across the bunch of them. His breath was already heavy, as though he had taken a quick sprint instead of a few strikes.

  When Marco spoke next, it came out low, tightly controlled. “Come on, that the best you guys have? Huh? That it? Nah, surely you must have something better that you can give me. If this is the best you have, then you are all a sorry band of wimps and weaklings.”

  Amanda stepped forward, and gently laid a hand on his shoulder. She wasn't quite afraid that he would bite her hand off, but she wasn't entirely certain at this point. “I do not think you need to antagonize them.”

  “Oh, I have no intention of doing that, but they would be better off backing away.” His eyes flicked to the thugs, and in a louder voice, “In fact, I think it would be a good idea if they backed away now.”

  Chapter Eleven: Train Ride

  The meeting in Washington Square Park had disbanded after Marco Catalano’s impromptu performance. It was agreed that they were going to gather later on, sometime next week, after everyone had brought their own supplies. Practice would begin soon after.

  Marco also added, “Everyone be certain to hold on to any Styrofoam packing peanuts you have.”

  After a confused look, he explained. “It's a key ingredient in homemade napalm.”

  As soon as it was over and they all scattered, Amanda leaned over to him and said, “I think that went well.”

  Marco nodded slowly, barely controlled. His respiration was up, and she could hear the blood pumping in his veins like a high pressure valve.

  Amanda noticed he remained angry and staring.

  Might as well ask now, while he’s already angry, instead of ruining a good mood later.

  “Who was Lily? What happened with her?”

  Marco went stiff, and his control became perfect as he slowly turned to look at her. He stopped smiling altogether. With slow, measured words, almost like there were periods after every word, he said, “Do you really want to do this now?”

  She didn't waver. “Yes, I do.”

  Marco's right eye twitched. “Then come with me.”

  He walked for five blocks without saying another word. He carried his backpack like it was a rucksack in a war zone, filled with books and old chair legs. After several strange turns, they ended up in a dark alley in the middle of Greenwich Village, the primary area in New York for the overall lasciviousness and lechery of every conceivable kink.

  Marco merely stared at the floor of the alley, as though expecting the ground to bleed. “Lily was my friend in high school,” he said flatly. He didn't look up from the spot on the alley floor. “She was adventurous. She liked my uniform. She liked my sword—the one on my hip, thank you. She was fun and she was funny, and she was smart.

  “That night, she became clingy. And affectionate. And very, very loving. She tried dragging me into this alley, and I went with her willingly.” He gave Amanda a quick glance, and an even quicker smile, one that was so fleeting even the vampire wasn't certain that he had smiled. “It was a situation I'd never been in before. Never been kissed. Seventeen, and never had a girlfriend…until her, that is. I had no
idea what to do.”

  He looked back to the alley. “So, while she was trying…or I was trying…just to get the angles right on proper lip lock, someone wanted to mug us. He tried his best, I'm sure. It was a simple matter to take the knife out of his control, but he kept pulling back on it. So, I let him have it. Then I went to work. Hurting him. A lot. I even bit him. I was out of control. By the time I was done, he gave out a death rattle.

  “When I turned back to her, well, she looked at me like I was something out of a horror movie. Vega and Zeng were close by, and they weren't that much better. He wanted to hurt us, so I hurt him first. Vega and Zeng got me and Lily out of there, and they dealt with the cops. They claimed that they offed him in self-defense.. He was a meth-head, so no one missed him, and no one cared that he was gone. End of story. Apparently, there was enough of a record on the guy that the DA didn’t even bother asking about it.”

  He smiled wryly. “Apparently, Lily didn't appreciate my efforts on her behalf, and not only broke off contact with me, but quickly spread it throughout Xavier that I was a complete and utter psychopath. What friends I had stopped talking to me, except for Zeng and Vega. I went from mild popularity among a small group to total isolation in a matter of days. The whiplash was so fast, I thought I would have a broken neck.”

  Marco stopped there, and he considered going farther. He thought of the last conversation he had with Lily, where she told him what he looked like, what she believed was going on in his head. Marco told her she was right.

  Then Marco never heard from her again.

  As he thought this over, Amanda studied him, and could almost feel his anguish. When she had changed, she lost her family, so she knew the pain of isolation. Over time, with her ability to hear the blood flowing in someone's veins, she could read emotions, even if they were well concealed. So she could hear Marco's heart break. The bitch Lily, and all of Marco's “friends,” had hurt him deeply.

  “Anyway,” he continued, excerpting the end of the story, “that was a year ago now. Everyone knows that I have no problem killing someone who threatens me or mine. There were a few at Xavier who understood, mostly professors who were ex-military.”

  “Ah. So, what was she like?”

  Marco blinked, surprised that after the whole story, this was the question she had. “You saw her. Five-foot-three, Filipino. Standard cheerleader type, only with a brain. Or at least, what I thought was a brain. Why do you ask? You want to go out for a quick bite?”

  She smiled. “It is not impossible. Sometime.”

  Marco shrugged, and stepped out of the alley, then turned north. “Time to get on a train. It's time to get home.”

  “What are you doing with the leg?”

  “You mean the chair leg? Not sure. It'll turn into something interesting when I'm done whittling it. Meanwhile, I should invest in turpentine.”

  “The world's most flammable substance? You wish to make firebombs?”

  “Either that or set fire to my textbooks.”

  “From last semester?”

  “Nah, from this semester. I got the textbooks for the classes before last semester ended. I'm nearly done with them. What, you thought that I could spend all of my time playing stake-the-vampire and not study? Granted, not much is new to me. I've only been hanging out in my father's hospital since I was five.”

  “You, being you, started picking things up from anyone who would be willing to teach you.”

  “Close enough. I'm going to take the train home. You want to join me for the ride?”

  Amanda didn't have to think about it for even a split second. If vampires were truly roaming around in packs of five, there was no way she was going to leave Marco to wander Brooklyn by himself.

  “Why not?”

  * * * *

  Marco and Amanda sat next to each other on the train heading for Brooklyn. They claimed the two-seat bench on the train, even though most of the standard three- and five-seaters were empty. Marco claimed it was to allow for people pouring in. Amanda claimed to agree.

  Marco put his arm up along the top of the seat, keeping his arm above Amanda's shoulders, only barely touching her hair. He could smell her light perfume, but mostly her shampoo. Why didn't his shampoos ever smell half as good? He used her washroom on occasion, and noticed she used the same no-name stuff he did, and yet…

  Marco flashed back to only an hour ago, when he asked about biting him again. When Amanda leaned over and whispered into his ear, “All you have to do is ask.” Oh damn, the sensation that whisper sent through his entire central nervous system was like nothing he had ever felt before. It was all he could do to change the subject and pretend it hadn’t affected him so.

  There can be no way on God's green Earth that she is hitting on me. Simply no way, he concluded. All this ‘just friends’ nonsense is to avoid the inevitable. Because if I make a move, she will shut me down. And if she shuts me down, awkwardness will ensue. And that would mean our friendship will never be the same. I’d rather have what we have now, than risk it all and be certainly left with nothing.

  Marco had done the math. She was, easily, five times his age. She was smart, and beautiful, skilled, and strong, and he was merely an almost-nineteen-year-old student with a mind like a computer, and social skills to match.

  Marco could not, would not, allow himself to feel anything for her even like romantic affection. Not even physical attraction. She could probably smell any pheromones he gave off, and could tear out his throat with her teeth if he made a move on any impulse he had regarding her person.

  “Why Brooklyn?” Amanda said. “Would not the Bronx or Manhattan be better for vampires to do their hunting? Maybe Staten Island?”

  Marco blinked, and chuckled. “I suspect, in part, because Brooklyn and Queens are where New York goes to die. Most of the cemeteries are in those two boroughs.”

  Amanda suddenly stiffened slightly. “We are in the last car?”

  “Second-to. Why?”

  The door from the adjoining car slid open, and several well-built, pale men and women stepped into their car.

  Amanda slid from the seat, and Marco followed. He held his hands behind his back, undoing the Velcro cuffs on his winter jacket.

  Marco recognized the vampire just off of the leader. His father had reported him dead on the operating table on Christmas Eve. “Hello, Nissin.”

  The vampire stopped. He was Asian, short and stocky, like a barrel with arms and legs, with a head like a soccer ball. He straightened out his black leather jacket and smirked. “Hey, Marco. You don't look so impressive anymore.”

  Marco didn't take his eyes off of Nissin as he leaned over to Amanda and said, “Death hasn't improved Red any. Looks or fashion sense.”

  Nissin smiled. “I'm going to enjoy draining you, bitch.”

  Amanda leaned forward. “I do hope you are not referring to me.”

  Nissin stepped forward, to just within kick range of Marco. The vampire was fast enough to rip Marco's throat out in an instant should he decide to. “So what if I am? You gonna stop me?”

  Marco could see that the leader of the group was growing annoyed with Nissin's posturing. The leader stepped towards them.

  Marco threw his arms forward. Two squirt guns came out of his sleeves and into his hands, and he fired. One gun was aimed at Nissin's eyes, the second at the leader. Neither expected the first blast, and the pain distracted them long enough for a second squirt. Marco's knee came up, almost to his chest, and his foot punched out, pushing Nissin into his leader, and they both sprawled back into their little gang behind.

  Marco swung his aim to the left as Amanda shot forward to the right. She grabbed one of the poles and swung around it, driving her feet into the vampire on the far right, kicking him out the window and into an oncoming train. She kicked off of the wall and grabbed the head of one of them, swinging around his body like on the pole, knocking most of them off of their feet, and twisting his head off. The body turned to dust before it hit the
floor.

  One of the vampires on Marco's side leapt over the seating, letting her coat slough off the holy water. She swept his guns aside, and lunged for his throat with her fangs. The teeth went for his throat.

  She couldn't proceed further. It was like pressing two magnets together on the same polarity, she was stopped dead.

  That's why Marco wore his rosary around his neck.

  While she tried to pass the barrier provided by the rosary, the vampire saw Marco's eyes. The last time she saw eyes that cold and dark was the last night she drew breath.

  Marco dropped the gun in his left hand. The right hand came up and squirted several blasts into her face.

  As the squirt gun fired, Marco's left hand slipped up the right sleeve, and came out with a wooden stake. He jammed it into her skull like an icepick, pulled it out, and quickly put the squirt gun to the wound and pulled the trigger, emptying holy water into the newly open space in her brain. The woman fell aside, screaming and thrashing in pain as the holy water ate away at her gray matter like acid.

  Marco stepped past the woman, leaving her for dead, even as she screamed. There were five more to deal with, sprawled over the ground, not counting a blinded Nissin and their leader on top. The leader rolled to his feet – Amanda grabbed his head and twisted, not breaking his neck, but throwing him into another vampire as he tried to rise. Nissin scrambled to his feet, thrashing wildly, not trying to use his advanced senses to locate Marco.

  Being dead hasn't made him smarter, Marco thought.

  One of the others leapt from the floor and charged Amanda. She grabbed him in mid-air and hurled him out the train window, aiming for the third rail. He didn't make it that far, struck by one of the many iron girders in the subway. However, since the train was going at a speed in excess of fifty miles an hour, the vampire was essentially doing the same speed when his chest hit the girder. The vampire's momentum was stopped dead. His head, on the other hand, kept moving without him.