by Declan Finn
Lily Sparks was on the top landing, her body having been slammed up against the front door. Her clothes weren't so much in disarray as they were shredded. Her modesty was barely protected by the scraps that clung to her body.
Without a word, Marco knelt down and grabbed her. She moaned slightly, and she was still warm, so Marco didn't even bother checking for a pulse. He scooped her up and brought her inside.
Amanda kept watch outside until she could shut the door. “They are gone.”
“Good,” Marco said, his voice completely clinical. “I'm going to need some fluids, and we're going to start pumping her full of enough vitamins and juices to make her want to puke.” He moved into the sitting room, laying her out on the couch.
Lily stirred, groaning. “Marco?”
“Yeah, it’s me. Just stay still, Lily,” he said. He looked at his watch, then grabbed her wrist to take her pulse. There wasn't any. “Oh crap.”
Amanda moved to hold Lily down, but the newborn vampire was feral, and fast. She leapt for Marco immediately, and they were both taken in a roll straight to the other side of the room. Lily was on top, and Marco's left hand pressed under her chin to keep her fangs off of him. The rosary dangled only millimeters away, to no effect.
“The rosary,” Marco grunted. He punched Lily with his right hand while his left kept her at bay. “Isn't” – punch – “working.” Punch. “She's too new.”
“I need you, Marco,” Lily groaned, even as he tried to push her away. His right hand pushed against her breast bone in an effort to throw her off of him. He would have bucked, but that would dislodge her from her position, and he couldn't risk losing control of her teeth.
Amanda leapt onto Lily's back, but Lily rammed her head straight back, crushing Amanda's nose. As with any human, Amanda's eyes started to tear up. Lily delivered a casual rear uppercut elbow to the chin that sent her flying backwards. Amanda landed head first into the wooden coffee table. Had it been metal, she would have bounced back without missing a beat. Had she been human, the impact would have cracked her head open. Instead, she was only knocked out.
This left Marco alone with a feral vampire who wanted his body, probably a la carte.
Lily's move allowed Marco to thrust his forearm into her throat, but since she didn't have to breathe, and didn't have blood flowing in her veins, it didn't help much. Her body must have kept some residual heat, meaning she hasn't been dead that long. She hasn't learned how to continue maintaining her bodily functions yet.
Marco grimaced and said, “This is what I get for having taught you a bit of Krav Maga.”
Lily's hands flailed at Marco's face. Had she had any brains about it at all, she would have broken his arm with two hands, then had her way with him.
And she'd probably kill me in the process, since she's new at this.
Then Marco met her eyes.
If there was a Bram Stoker's Guide to Vampyres, rule number one would not be “Don't invite them into your house.”
That would be rule number two.
Nor would rule number one be “Don't tell a vampire 'Bite me.'”
That was a rule approximately a few dozen down the line.
Had Bram Stoker survived his tuberculosis long enough to write down a list of rules about his most famous creation, Rule Number One would be very simple.
Don't look them in the eye. Never, ever look them in the eye.
When Marco met Lily's eyes, the vampire's eyes bored into his brain.
A feral vampire trying to enter a human brain was much like an animal trying to operate a computer system. It went wild, flailing around, growling and snarling, barking at every flashing light in Marco's brain. Likewise, Marco could see everything in her brain. They were wild flashes, as frantic and as untamed as her physical attack. There were flickers and bleeps and images of lust and heat and skin, and what amounted to a pornographic fetish movie, or a Lady Gaga music video.
Then, those images, those memories, faded away, and all of those and similar thoughts focused on Marco. It was only a split second, but more than enough to have allowed her to get lucky, if Lily were smarter or quicker about it.
It was time to end this. And her, if need be.
“I don't want to hurt you,” Marco said, “but if you make me, I will.”
“I want you, Marco,” she growled. “She wants you, too, but I won't let her have you. You're mine. Mikhail told me I could have you. If I have to, I’ll kill her.”
Marco's vision narrowed, and the edges of his eyesight became blurry. He leaned forward as much as possible, still keeping Lily at half an arm's length. He reached back with his arm, digging his elbow into the carpet, then drove his fist into Lily's face. Her nose crunched, and the cartilage of her nose drove backwards, up into her brain. She was, for a moment, temporarily brain damaged. She fell back, relieving the pressure from Marco long enough for him to buck and roll her off of him.
Marco leapt back, grabbing a wooden chair. He whirled back in time for Lily to leap after him.
Her chest hit the chair leg first. Driving it deep into her body. Lily blinked twice, looking into Marco's eyes. With one last, weak breath, she pleaded, “Marco…”
His eyes went as cold as Alaskan skies, and as dark as storm clouds. “You threatened Amanda. Before that, I would have tried to save you. Now I realize that you were a soul-sucking monster before you became a vampire. Threaten her because you want me? You don't come back from that.”
He growled and swung the chair, lifting Lily off her feet, and throwing her into a wall.
“Now go to Hell.”
He drew his second flammable stake of the evening, stepped forward, and thrust it into her throat. The stake burst into flames, and Lily caught fire.
Marco grabbed the chair with both hands and swung her again, away from the wall, as she went up in a sudden blaze that turned her, her clothes, and the legs of the chair, to ash.
He smiled as he watched her burn.
Later, he would think about how he should have felt put off. This was a failure. He didn't protect Lily. But then, Lily was already a failure to him, over a year ago. He had cared for her so deeply, the betrayal of trust had made him want to crawl into his work and die there. There were more than enough times where he had wanted to murder her horribly, but they were always theoretical. He had wanted her to suffer the way she had made him suffer, and now, looking at the ashes of his old flame, he felt that setting her alight was just a good start.
Marco waved the chair a little bit to put out the flames, dropped the chair, and moved to Amanda. He turned her over, checked the back of her head, and contemplated how to check a vampire for concussion.
* * * *
Amanda's eyes flashed open, and she sat up quickly, searching the sitting room. There was a wrecked chair, some ashes on the floor, but the only one in the room was Marco, and she had a pounding headache. “Where is she?”
Marco leaned forward, trying to probe through the thick hair to check the back of her head. “Dusted,” he muttered. “She made a real ash out of herself.”
If she were anyone else, she would presume his flippant comment might have better hid his real emotions. She could see them though, and Amanda gave him a look of infinite pity, placing her hand on his shoulder. “I am so sorry. She gave you no choice.”
Marco froze a moment, for a reason she couldn't guess at. Was there another reason to kill her?
Marco gave her a little shrug. “She had to be put down. She was violent. She couldn't be restrained or reasoned with.”
“But can you blame her? She was–”
Marco shook his head. “I said nothing about blame. If we could have restrained her, she might have been reasoned with, eventually.” He patted her back, and then rubbed her shoulders
Amanda enjoyed sampling even that much of his touch.
“Come on,” he said, “let's get you on your feet. You've had an eventful evening, and you're a little banged up.”
“As though you
should talk? You have killed two vampires and an ex-girlfriend.”
“I wasn't the one thrown in front of a train. As far as killing an ex…” He smiled weakly. “Well, I'm just living the dream.”
He is already joking about this? “That is an odd attitude, considering.”
Marco gestured to a seat, and she took it. He sat next to her. “Do you know why Lily went crazy?”
Amanda paused a moment. She could come up with a few theories. “I can make some guesses if you want.”
“Me first. This is just a guess, a complete shot in the dark. True or false? A potential side-effect of becoming a vampire can be an enhancement of whatever initial attributes, personality traits, and vices one had while alive.”
Amanda nodded slowly. “It is possible. It has happened.”
“Amanda, when Lily tried to grab me, I couldn't tell if she was going to eat me or screw me. She was basically driven insane by her own internal vices.” Marco slumped into the couch. “I think my body is going to object to the adrenaline I'm feeding it.”
“If we keep this up, that is not impossible.” She sighed, and spared him a look. “So, what did Rodgers say when you called him about Mount Olivet cemetery?”
“Nuts, I didn't think to call them right after the bartender gave us the tip. Give me a few minutes, and I'll give them the news.”
Amanda nodded, and just stared up at the ceiling. She knew Marco was hurt by this woman, but she had been murdered once, and he was forced to kill her again, only permanently. Yet here he was, relatively calm, more interested in planning a nap than revenge. This man threatened his own people for staring at her too hard, but this didn't provoke more than a sigh?
“You know, I am surprised at your reaction.”
“Hmm?”
“I thought you would be taking Lily's death harder than this.”
“You mean just because she's an ex? Sort of?” He gave a little wave of his hand. “Nah. One of the reasons I take rejection so well? I more or less think of the person as dead. At least, that's the best guess I can make. Though I usually have more sympathy for the dead, and their relatives. In her case, Lily has been dead to me for over a year now. This was just a formality. What? Were you expecting a murderous rampage?”
Amanda winced at how his words sounded.
Wow. That is cold, even for Marco. Was he really so hurt by Lily, and what she did? After all, she only freaked out after being mugged and witnessing a horrid death. Granted, he saved her life, but she had good reason to freak out. Then again, she besmirched his good name, alienated his friends, and played it up like he was a rampaging Frankenstein's monster…
Okay, maybe he is that angry…“Yes.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I'm not going to let them think they got away with it.” His casual, calm demeanor faded. “They killed two of my men tonight, and they killed someone under my protection. They can't pull this sort of stuff without retaliation. As I said, I'm the feudal lord, and they are my vassals. I'm going to deliver the message loud and clear. ”
This was more like the reaction she had expected. A readiness, a desire to wreak havoc on those who had hurt him and his. But this was over men he had lost, and not the woman he was…intimate with. Really? “Oh? How?”
“How many vampire bars are there?”
She thought it over a moment. “Few dozen. Why?”
“I think there are some vampires who are going to need to find another place to hang out. I have a chem lab, and I'm not afraid to use it.”
* * * *
March 14th, 8:00 a.m.
Marco stood outside The Blood Bank, staring over the facade, and chuckled. The place was so ordinary and bland, it was almost out of place for something this close to Central Park. The black storefront was solid stone, without even a window, and the door matched the storefront.
“If these guys were any more of a cliché, it would be painful,” Marco muttered to himself. He hiked the backpack up on his shoulders, squaring himself to the door. He smiled, knocked on the solid wooden door, and waited for a reply.
“No one here, go away,” came a light brogue. Marco thought it sounded like the bartender from the other night.
“You're going to want to let me in, now, buddy, or else.”
“Or else what?”
“Or I'll huff and I'll puff, and I'll blow your door in.”
There was a pause. After a moment, several locks were thrown open. Another moment later, the bartender said, “Come in.”
Marco twisted the doorknob, and pushed the door open just enough to be shoved. He took a step back, against the doorway, and launched a side kick, popping the door open.
The bartender had the pump-action shotgun in his hands, but not aimed at Marco – he was cautious, not hostile. The human nodded, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. “Good, I was hoping that would be your answer.”
The bartender, who Marco swore dressed like every bartender stereotype from the start of the last century, grunted. “Don't be so certain of what my answer is until I give it. Now what do you want? You already got your answers here the other night, so give me one good reason why I shouldn't fill you full of flechette and bottle your blood for my customers?”
“The church-going vampire? Um, no. I don't think so.”
“What are you, crazy?”
“No,” Marco said patiently, his heartbeat spiking so much even he could detect it. “Do you know who I am?
“I know your name. Otherwise, I don't care. I'd like to run my business and be left alone.”
“I understand that, and sympathize. Last night, two of my men were killed. The woman they were protecting was turned into a vampire, and I was forced to kill her. That woman was special to me. She was the first person in the 'real world' who made me suspect that I was human. So, right now, I'm sort of pissed.”
The vampire looked him over strangely. “Made you feel human?”
Marco looked right at him, his gaze intense and unwavering. “You try being isolated by your IQ and your mannerisms practically from when you were born. And then, at some point, you meet one who treats you like you're actually someone, a person, and not like a freak. You ever have someone like that?”
The bartender smiled. “I married her in 1923.”
Considering that you would have been sixty years a vampire by then, I can see you understand the freak feeling.
“Yeah. Well, this person was someone I cared about once. She was taken from me with as little care and consideration as your average car wreck. I want my vengeance to be swift and painful. So, I want the names of your competition.”
The vampire started. “Really?”
“Really. You're an Irish cop from the really old school. What bars would you like to see go out of business? You know the ones I mean. What bars have humans on tap? Where do they make people disappear?”
The bartender smiled. “You just might be a decent bloke after all. Well, if you're going to be like that about it, I may know a place or three…”
Marco left The Blood Bank with three new names of vampire establishments. He came to a stop a block away. When he had walked into The Blood Bank, he had let his mouth do all of his thinking for him. Everything he had said about Lily was the truth. From kindergarten until the day he met Lily, he had been a freak. There were years he was too fat to be considered “normal,” or his interests didn't line up with everyone else's, or he was too smart to be considered “cool.”
Then there was Lily. A friend who was with him for four years of high school. She had helped him gain friends, and she had been the one who pointed out to all the world, “Hey, this guy is interesting!” Sure, in the end, it all went wrong. But she was the first person who actually made Marco feel like someone who was not a relative that gave a damn about him. As though he was worthy of someone's time and energy. That maybe, just maybe, there was someone out there in the entire universe who could love him without needing to be family or God Himself. Now she was g
one.
There was a tear in his eye that was genuine, and a part of him that hurt greatly.
But his smile remained. The ever amused, eternal smile. Some people thought he used it to cover up some flaw in his head; some thought it was the flaw in his head. Some thought he smiled to hide the pain he had gone through in his life. Some believed that he smiled because he had a nervous condition.
But, despite his pain, despite everything going on in his head at any one time, Marco's smile was genuine. His amusement at the world was genuine.
He was now of a mind to share his hurt with the undead. Time for them to cry.
He had enough explosives to do the job.
Chapter Nineteen: Sniper Fodder
March 14, 9:00 p.m.
“Wow, you're fairly old, aren't you?”
Amanda Colt started. She wasn't used to people hearing her sneak up on them. She had stopped only two meters behind the Vatican ninja and his rooftop perch. “How did you know I was here?”
The Vatican ninja with the sniper rifle spared her a glance over his shoulder.
“Two eye holes on that rifle?” she asked. ”I get that one is for the scope, but the other…”
“I have a motion sensor,” he told her. “It's the only reason I knew you were there.”
“I see.” She looked him over. The man wasn't much to look at, more wiry and spry than anything else. He wasn't going to outweigh Arnold Schwarzenegger, maybe not even Chuck Norris. His “ninja” outfit was in the standard format for what would be considered “traditional” ninja garb—if one ignored the tactical pouches and the sniper rifle—with one major difference: it was a striped garment of dark blue and green.
“I thought Swiss Guard colors wore blue and gold,” Amanda said as she moved next to the sniper, sitting down on the ledge, facing away from the street.
He looked back through the scope, down at the bar known as The Platelet. “Yes, well, gold is too visible for camouflage, and solid black is too dark. Green works better. We've noticed that, since blue is on a different spectral wavelength, it breaks up our form.” He frowned a little as he readjusted his scope. “From a distance, that is.”