by Declan Finn
“Oh, they got our attention all right.”
“Okay, so, what do you need me for? You have a small army, and considering the differences in their methods of operations, I can't see any reason for your vampires and mine to be related.” He visibly winced. “Oy, I can't believe I just said 'my vampires' and 'your vampires.' But, still, I can't see the connection. How do you know they're not just two different groups of vampires in the same area? This is New York. You could have a million vampires, and they wouldn't even be twelve percent of the population.”
Marco cleared his throat, and started edging his way towards the off-ramp. “Freaking Van Wyck.” He stopped in the next lane only an inch from the car in front of him. It was like he was daring the other drivers to hit him. “One thing at a time.”
“Yes, we do have manpower,” Amanda said, “but we do not have all the intelligence contacts we need. We know they are here, we know they are acting strategically, but we do not know what their purpose is. We know they are related because, at one point, they retaliated against us.”
“Me, actually,” Marco said, his voice darkening.
“You mean besides the original assassin in the clinic?”
Marco nodded.
“What did they do?”
“They kidnapped an ex-girlfriend of mine, thinking I still…whatever. That part doesn’t matter.” Marco directed the car into the next lane, in front of the next driver, who apparently didn't want to give one bit of ground. He managed to get through, stomping down on the pedal so he could get on the exit ramp. It looked like he was taking local streets all the way to Brooklyn. He didn't have much consideration for the traffic laws, the speed laws, or possibly the laws of man and God. “Amanda saw the kidnapping, and she tried to prevent it, but she was stopped by an old friend of yours.”
There was only one person Merle could think of that might possibly have any relation to Marco's problem, the one enemy Merle ran into in New York last time. “The guy I had to decapitate with the stop sign?”
Amanda nodded. “Exactly.”
Merle leaned back, keeping his face implacably calm. It wouldn’t do to show that he was freaking out inside. Vampires, just what I needed. I’m not sure what would be worse—if Marco and his girlfriend are telling the truth, and there are vampires in town, or if they're lying, or nuts, and have me in the car with them. “Indeed. Now, what did the assassin in the clinic mean when he said you’d be a message? To whom? Your father?” Even as Merle asked, he knew the answer, thinking back to the anomalous organisms the lab had found in the dead FBI agent’s blood.
Marco turned the wheel, moving around an annoyingly slow car. He shot past an intersection. “You found organisms in your victim’s wound track, didn’t you? What you found are in vampire’s saliva. They help keep the victim alive after the initial blood drain. From what we can gather, they’re not parasitic, more like symbiotic.”
“Microbial symbiotes?”
Marco nodded, then his eyes locked on a car moving in to cut him off. He veered the other way, dodging him. “Of course. You’ve heard of mitochondrial DNA, right? Mitochondria are the things that basically power blood cells within the human body. But they’re not actually us. They even have different DNA from the human host they inhabit.”
“So you’re saying that mitochondria are microbial symbiotes?”
“Da,” Amanda confirmed. “When a vampire leaves a victim alive, the microbes from their saliva remain. Microbes only live for a few days, and those few days are fun for the one bitten, but after…” She paused, as though thinking of the right word. “Poof, all dead. The microbes, I mean. The human generally survives, unless he was drained or had his throat ripped out.”
Merle Kraft cocked his head. “What do you mean, about those few days being fun?”
“I’ve been bit before,” Marco answered casually. “For the next few days, I was able to hurl a manhole cover, single-handed. If you’re wondering, no one can become a vampire because of a simple bite. Lord knows I’m not one.”
Amanda nodded. “Which would explain why vampires are created by drinking the blood of another vampire. It’s the only way to get enough of a concentration of the microbes for vampirism to take effect.”
Merle raised a brow. This was all being delivered to him in an oddly controlled and casual way, as though this was something normal. “So vampires are not the Dark Side of the Force, they just got a bad bunch of midichlorians?”
Marco again read his mind, answering his concern, but not what he asked. “We’ve been dealing with this for months now. We called Hector and Zeng almost immediately and advised them and theirs to carry as though they were going to take on a small contingent of hell-spawn. I never would have guessed anyone else would believe this selection from the mind of Tim Burton.”
“But you’d think I’d believe it.”
“You tangled with a vampire,” Amanda explained. “From what we’ve gathered, Scarface was a number two man.”
Marco nodded. “We’ve been gathering data, and from what we can tell about the social structure of this group, we've figured there is some sort of ‘master vampire,’ with the age and power to create one of these packs of animals. They're obviously directed, coordinated. After all, they took out an FBI agent. They usually go after people that wouldn’t be missed: homeless people, prostitutes—”
“Gang members,” Amanda finished. “These vampires obviously did not keep up much with local events, or they would have known that going after the Dragons and Los Tigres was a mistake. We never thought they would perform CSHs.”
Merle smiled at the term; CSH stood for “Community-Service Homicide.” One drug dealer kills another. That is community service.
“We figured,” Marco said, “that’s also the reason vampires get a bad rap as being unwavering evil. Most vampires who create other vampires aren’t nice guys. The only reason we have so many vampires biting for the other side is that those vampires make sure that those they turn into vampires will be as evil as they are.”
Merle had images of Kristen running into one of those freaks. He was suddenly invested in the situation. “Now, go back to the whole Master Vampire thing?”
“We know his name is Mikhail,” Amanda told him. This time, she didn't try looking back at him. She just stared straight out the window. “We know that he has done this before, and he has total control over his people. He’s strong, and makes certain his people stay in line.”
“Which is why we haven't had any police officers killed yet?”
Marco answered, “We figure that vamps don’t want to get into too much trouble with the cops. If they do, someone may decide to go hunting with napalm.”
Amanda laughed. “Someone other than Marco.”
“Okay, I grant your reasoning thus far. But why target the FBI?”
Amanda leaned back, stretching her long body gracefully. “What was he doing?”
“I can’t say. That’s classified. I can tell you he was doing surveillance.”
“With a laser mic, maybe?” Marco asked. “If that’s the case, the vampire probably picked up on it.”
Merle studied his hosts. Let’s say I take all of this at face value. What was a vampire doing inside the United Nations? “Gotcha. So, have you done anything else against the vampires?”
“Waged war. Set some bars on fire. Interrogated some with fire and holy water. Waged a kind of terrorist campaign against them. You know, that sort of thing. They're easy enough to keep out of our homes, at least. If you don't want to rely on the requirement of an invite, you can nail crosses everywhere, or get a mezuzah. From what I could tell, we can keep those bloodsuckers out of the clinic and other enclosed, public places.”
Merle couldn’t resist. “Lawyers, too?”
Marco ignored him. “Anyway, we found out about your little excursion around here. Given your profession, I should probably tell you I know nothing about spells, aside from the fact that they sound creepier if you say them in Latin. We loo
ked you up. That was when we turned to your brother in Boston for a little help. You sure you two are related?”
“Well, I can tell you the family first thought something was wrong with him when we watched Star Wars. My brother Tal liked Luke, I liked Yoda, and Dalf rooted for Darth Vader.”
Marco raised an eyebrow. “Obviously, that was before Episode I…one more thing.” He reached for the glove compartment and took out two glass Arizona Iced Tea bottles. “Fresh from the baptismal font at St. Alphonsus. Guaranteed to melt vampires and keep away those nasty sunspots.”
Amanda chimed in. “Also, the Dragons and Tigers have been holding their own, and some have even tried fire breathing. But they’re probably making vampires faster than we can kill them. They have a list of those who will not be missed, and it is not little.”
Merle took a breath. If these people were crazy, it was his job to verify or deny. “Very well, I guess we should start by taking me to the area of most of the attacks.”
Ms. Colt nodded. “I’ll do it.”
“I’ll drop you two off, then circle back to the house.” Marco looked into Amanda’s eyes with concern, placing a hand on her arm. “Are you going to be alright?”
“Of course. Aren't I always?”
Marco glanced back in the mirror. “Um, Mister Kraft?”
“Hm?”
“You have any backup?”
“Usually not, why?”
“Because someone is following us.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight: Once Bitten
April 15th, 6:30PM, Van Wyck Expressway, New York City
Marco considered evasive maneuvers, but decided against it. He looked into the rear view mirror at his guest and said, “So, Merle, you want to look at our tail and decide if you know them?”
Merle blinked, and looked over the back seat. “Gimme a minute, I need to make a phone call. Oy, mein Gott.” He slid back down into his seat, and pulled a cell phone from his windbreaker, then hit redial.
“Hey Merle, how are you doing?” Kristen Kelly answered. “Land in New York, yet?”
“Hey, meschula. I shouldn't ask, but are you following me from the airport?”
Kristen paused for a long moment. “Should I ask how you know?”
“You can. Because my driver told me.”
“Ouch. Sorry about that. His little maneuver getting off of the Van Wyck was sudden. I didn't see that coming.”
“Don't worry,” Merle said, casting a glance at Marco, “I don't think that he saw that coming.”
Kristen laughed. “I just figured it would be a good idea to make certain you were in one piece…and stayed that way.”
“Thanks for that. I think I'll stay alive.” I would be more worried about you, considering everything I've been told. Unfortunately, I have no way to disprove anything they've told me.
“The last thing I need is a dead ex,” Kristen said.
Merle smiled. “All the same, we should probably go our separate ways on this one. That way, Arthur doesn't become an orphan.”
“Understood.”
Merle watched how Amanda and Marco interacted. He became nostalgic for the driver of the car tailing them. “I'll talk to you later.”
After he hung up, Marco said, “You speak Yiddish?”
Merle shrugged. “I'm sure that you do too.”
“Yes, but I'm a New York native. It's practically one of our three dozen second languages. You're from San Francisco.”
“You you’re surprised because I’m Asian?”
Marco shrugged as he made a turn. “If you wish.”
“I live in San Francisco. I’m from here. Anyway, now that I know that this whole mess is due to vampires, I guess I should start by reexamining the crime scene.”
“Then I should drop you both off here, and start making some calls. Feeding time should be any moment now.”
Merle scoffed as Marco pulled over. “Feeding time, huh?”
“You'll find out soon enough.”
* * * *
Marco didn't start the car right away as Merle and Amanda walked away from him. They would be out for a while.
Marco pondered his position for a moment, then reached for his cell phone.
After all, this man is Dalf Kraft’s brother, who knows what exactly that makes him. Possibly not even human, from the way Amanda had described her encounter.
No, Marco wasn't the superstitious type, but, after all, he was in love with a vampire.
Then again, Marco knew more or less exactly what he himself was, and he wasn’t entirely certain that 'human' would describe him, either. After all, he had ripped the hearts out of a few human beings who probably shouldn’t have been turned to worm food.
But, accidents happen.
Sure, just keep telling yourself that Marco, eventually you'll believe it. Especially when you tell Amanda.
But at the very least, I know what side I'm playing for, which was more than I can say for our San Francisco visitor.
* * * *
Merle waited a moment before continuing the conversation. He spent the time admiring how utterly fluid her moments were, almost as though she were boneless. She looked exceptionally good.
She's not my Kristen, though. “So,” Merle asked once they were out of earshot of Marco’s car, “how did you know I’ve taken down the number two guy in the local vampire crew?”
Amanda paused for a split second; just enough for Merle to not fully believe her answer. “Because we have good contacts, and you took a while to put him down. Marco can deal with most vampires because of sheer skill…and his ability to play 3D chess in his head.”
“You mean he thinks three moves ahead of the vampires he fights?”
“More like five moves. He is good at what he does, Mister Kraft. He’s an excellent student as well. Were he older, he could work with the EMTs in tandem with his Hudson U. studies. God knows he’s tended to me a few times. Of course, he has enough on his plate at the moment.”
Merle raised a brow. By her tone, and her gushing, he concluded she would have liked him to tend to her in more personal ways. “So, you two are close?”
“Very,” she confirmed, but stopped short when she caught his drift. “Oh, but not quite that close.”
“I take it you would like to be?”
Amanda Colt looked ahead. “We’re almost there.”
Merle nodded, then paused. He sensed something wrong in the air, and Amanda paused as well. “We’re being followed,” he casually told her. “You know?”
She nodded, and tensed, a ball of energy waiting to spring. Merle looked the other direction, hoping to cover her back. She supposedly fought vampires, so street muggers shouldn’t be a problem. If they were muggers.
Merle turned around to take in his surroundings. From here, he could see the Italian restaurant where the FBI had taken over the top floor to spy on the United Nations. Merle could even see the UN from street level.
He spotted the alley where the dead FBI agent was initially found. He also saw where he had killed off that pesky psycho with the bad scarring, who may have been a vampire.
Then their company started emerging from the shadows. There were seven of them in all. One carried a chain. One had a knife. A few were empty-handed.
Amanda muttered, “They found some new friends, I see, and are back to their old ways.”
Merle blinked, then leaned over to her, not taking his eyes off of the miscreants. “You know these guys?”
“They jumped me and Marco last year,” she answered. “Evidently, they can’t take a hint.”
These two have been taking on vampires, and they've left muggers standing? “They're still alive, after a tangle with a couple vampire-hunters?”
“Some of them survived.”
“So, they're just muggers, I presume.”
Amanda nodded.
Merle smiled as one leapt out of an alley with a lead pipe. “Your money or–”
Merle came at the mugger, shoulder first, sending his
entire body weight into the charge. The impact took the man off of his feet. Merle's left arm wrapped around the arm holding the pipe, and his right elbow smashed the attacker's throat. With ease and skill, Merle twisted the pipe out of his hand and cracked it across his skull.
The next one didn’t have half a chance as Merle threw the lead bar like a throwing knife, hitting him between the eyes.
There was a third with a chain, like any good stereotype, and he swung. Merle casually ducked, then kicked the mugger's scrotum practically up into his abdomen.
Merle turned to see how Amanda was doing, and it looked for a moment like he should help her—a mugger had his arms around her in what looked like a bear hug. Upon closer examination, Merle saw something wrong. To start with, he wasn’t holding her up. She was holding him up.
Second, there were several dead bodies on the ground, all of them with their throats torn out. She dropped the assailant and turned to Merle, her lips stained with blood.
Oh darn.
Merle did the logical thing and ran for the nearest residence, and entered it easily. He figured that a vampire was still a vampire, and couldn’t follow into a home without being invited.
Merle smiled, sat in a chair, and decided to wait until sunup.
“Nice trick. How did you get in?”
Amanda Colt stood on the other side of the room from Merle. He rolled backwards out of the chair, coming to a defensive position.
She smiled at him, and leaned against a far wall. “Ever read Thomas Aquinas?
Merle blinked back his surprise. She hadn't attacked him. “I’m being asked about a Catholic philosopher by a vampire?”
She looked at him with those warm brown eyes of hers. “Answer my question,” she said with all the seriousness of a kindergarten teacher trying not to laugh at a student.
Merle Kraft cocked his head, still expecting to be eaten. “I know a little bit about him, why?”
“He once said that after the resurrection, Jesus”—she bowed her head slightly at the name—“had total control over His body. We have also resurrected, after a fashion.”