She stood still, the empty gun still half-raised, watching Reese until he stopped twitching. Dutch was a bloody heap by the wall.
Then her knees buckled, and she dropped to all fours. She felt sick, her head spinning, and if she’d had a heartbeat, she imagined it would have been racing. The thought made her laugh, but it came out as a weird, half sob.
A horrible smell drifted over, and she looked up to see Reese’s body falling in on itself. His skin hollowed out and began to split, stretched over crumbling bones, organs drying out and shriveling. Within seconds he was a mummified husk, a parchment skeleton in expensive clothes. Dutch had withered the same way.
A thumping sound caught her attention, followed by muffled cries. The nearest door was shaking as someone hammered on it from the inside. Emma could still hear the commotion upstairs. Looking at Reese’s remains, she saw the butt of a pearl-handled pistol sticking out of his collapsed jacket. Dropping her empty handgun, she leaned over to take his, trying not to look at what was left of his face. Then she stepped over him and picked up the fallen keys.
Georgia stumbled back as the door opened with a squeak. The other girls huddled behind her, staring at the apparition in the doorway. Georgia looked at the creature’s face, and her blue eyes widened. “Emma…?” she said, in a tiny voice.
Emma saw the horrified look in her friend’s eye, and realised too late that her glamour was still down. She stood there in all her vampire glory, armed and bloody, all crimson eyes and gleaming fangs.
Screw it. She didn’t care anymore.
Stepping back, she motioned down the hallway. “There’s an open fire exit at the top of those stairs. Go now and you’ll probably make it out.”
Georgia was still staring. There were tears in her eyes.
“Go on,” Emma prompted. Stepping back across the corridor, she leaned against the wall near Dutch’s body, and slid into a crouch.
After a long moment, seven pairs of feet scurried past her, their owners sobbing and clutching each other as they ran towards freedom. The eighth pair—long slim legs in four-inch burgundy heels—paused in front of Emma. She felt Georgia’s eyes on her, felt the helplessness in her posture. She didn’t look up, keeping her eyes on Georgia’s feet. Those are really pretty shoes, she thought.
Then Georgia was gone too, running after the others. Emma waited until her footsteps were echoing up the steps before she raised her head.
She stayed there for a while, staring at the blood on the wall. Her eyes moved over what was left of Reese. Who had he been, she wondered?
Slowly rising, she turned towards the stairs. At the other end of the corridor, the elevator doors opened.
Emma turned, staring at the figure stepping into the corridor. He wasn’t a vampire. He was tall, well built, with tattoos on his arms, wearing a black t-shirt and some kind of leather harness around his torso. He held a revolver in his right hand, and a metal bat in his left. The bat was stained with blood.
Emma stared at him, gun half-raised, unsure what to do. The man made the decision for her, and raised his revolver.
The first bullet caught her in the stomach, just below the ribcage. She stumbled back, half-doubling over, and his second shot took her in the chest. She fell onto her backside, pain tearing through her. Reese’s gun was still in her hand, feeling like a lead weight. Her blood felt like it was on fire, bubbling on her lips. There was a rushing sound in her ears, like the ocean in a seashell, and just for a second, she almost thought she could hear her heart beating.
Then another shot rang out, a cannon blast from a million miles away. Something kicked her hard in the chest, throwing her onto her back, and she was still.
She lay there staring at the ceiling panels, watching them turn to watercolor. She felt it leaving her—the cold emptiness she’d lived with for three years, draining away, a hint of warmth creeping back into her body. Then that was gone too, and she felt nothing at all. Her last thought was to wonder—was it strange that she was more relieved than afraid?
Gabe moved down the corridor, gun still up, eyes moving over the scene. This wasn’t what he’d expected to find. There were two other dead vampires here, one of them Reese Parras, and the room was unlocked and empty. Had the women escaped, or had there been a disagreement over the price? He spared a puzzled glance for the vampire girl, dead at his feet. Then he turned and headed for the stairs, reloading his revolver as he went.
Alderwood and Old Lace
Jaleta Clegg
The knock at the door startled Rose. The feather duster in her housecoat pocket tickled her arm as she hurried to the front entry. The mantel clock in the front room chimed midnight.
“Who would be calling this late?” Rose was in the habit of talking aloud to herself. An old widow’s perogative, she told anyone who questioned her sanity. Living alone for the last eight years made her lonely for the sound of a voice, any voice, even her own.
The knock sounded again, sharp and demanding. “Please, somebody help me.” A young woman’s voice, hurt and in pain.
Rose quickened her pace, her fuzzy slippers scuffing across the floor. She reached for the bolt. Fear tiptoed down her back, a familiar feeling, though one not felt for the past twenty years. She wrapped her age-spotted hand around the handle of the feather duster. Alderwood, not the best or the hardest, but wood nonetheless.
“Is anyone home? Help me, please.” The young woman sobbed on the other side of the door.
“I’m coming.” Rose fumbled the locks free. Her hand shook with icy fear as she turned the knob.
“Thank you. I didn’t know what to do. Your lights were on. They attacked me.” The young woman, frightened and pale, rubbed hands on her tattooed arms. Her short tank top showed off multiple piercings near her navel. Rose would have described her as a hooker, but most young women looked like hookers anymore. “Back there in the alley,” the girl babbled. “It was just awful. May I come in?”
The formal phrase jarred Rose. The young woman watched intently, her gaze hard and unblinking.
Rose pulled the door wide, her hand gripping the duster hidden in her pocket. She pasted a smile on her face. She knew what creature stood at her door. Age hadn’t robbed her of her ability to smell them. “Why, of course, dear. You come in and have a seat. I’ll call the police and report the attack.”
The woman sauntered through the door into Rose’s home. “Nice place,” she called as Rose fastened the locks again.
“You and only you are invited into my dwelling place,” Rose whispered. Her shoulders itched. There were more outside, waiting.
“Who’s the dude?” The young woman tilted the picture frame on the mantel.
“My husband, God rest his soul.” Rose edged towards the kitchen. She always kept a wreath of fresh garlic above the counter. Old habits died hard.
“He’s been gone long?”
“Eight years. Heart attack.” Rose stepped through the kitchen doorway. “Just let me call the police. Won’t take but a moment.”
The woman closed her hand on Rose’s arm, her grip far stronger than her slender build implied. She moved very fast. And silent. “I don’t think so.” She smiled, exposing fangs. The smile dissolved into a wrinkled look of disgust. “What is that appalling smell?”
“Fresh garlic.” Rose nodded to the wreath hung on the wall.
“Ugh.” The woman released her grip, backing into the front room.
“That confirms it.” Rose pulled the duster from her pocket. “I know what you are.”
“And you still invited me in? Stupid old woman. I know who you are, too. We’ve been looking for you. Lucretia sends her regards.”
“Is she still around?” Rose shook her head, sending her curlers bouncing. “I regret missing her with that stake. Is she still answering to Carlos?”
The vampire tossed her head, dark hair swinging over her shoulder. The single bright purple streak contrasted oddly against her pale skin. “Carlos is the master. And always will be. He’s co
ming for you.” She licked one fang, her dark tongue darting like a snake.
“He sent you to kill me first, did he? Or are you just the errand girl delivering his message?”
“You’re weak, a pathetic old woman.”
“True. I haven’t actively hunted for twenty years, not since Henry and I retired to this quiet neighborhood. It’s been peaceful. And a bit boring, to be frank.” She sidled forward, closing the distance.
“Carlos will turn you, make you one of us.”
“Now that is a problem. My understanding is that one can’t be turned unless one wishes it. You can’t create an unwilling vampire. And I am definitely unwilling. I will not be damned for eternity.”
“Carlos has sworn revenge.” She curled her lip, her multiple studs winking in the lamplight. “He’s coming for you. And he will have you, old woman.”
“Not tonight, he won’t.” Rose lunged the last three feet, impaling the vampire with the handle of her feather duster. The girl’s brittle ribs crunched as they gave to the pressure.
The young woman grimaced as she crumpled to the floor, her tattooed and pierced body at rest.
“My aim is still true.” Rose bent over the body, just to make certain. The girl’s eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. “Not as young as I used to be, but I’ve still got what counts. I pity you, child. May you rest in peace.”
She closed the girl’s eyes, murmuring a soft prayer for her neglected soul. She stood over the body, debating how to dispose of it. Morning sunlight would finish the vampire, but that was hours away and her neighbors might question a body exploding into flame in her back garden.
“I miss you, Henry.” She twitched the lace doily straight, the one under his picture on the mantel. “If you were here, we’d load her up and drive up to Paradise Peak and have a sunrise bonfire. But you had to go and die on me. Just when we were starting to figure out how to live a normal life again. Well, I’ll think of something over a cup of tea.”
She shuffled to the kitchen, her slippers flapping on the linoleum.
Another loud knock startled her into almost dropping the tea kettle. She set it aside, then gathered the garlic wreath in both hands. Carlos and Lucretia wouldn’t be far behind their minion. They’d probably bring the whole pack with them, the slavering half-wits as well as the fully undead. Rose opened her broom closet, shifting the cleaning implements aside. She pulled her staff from the back, brushing cobwebs from the silver wire wrapped near the sharpened point.
“Tarnished, but silver is still silver.”
The knock sounded again. “Police. Open up.”
Rose lifted one eyebrow. Would Carlos stoop so low? No, not the arrogant Spaniard. But Lucretia, she was a tricky one.
“Just a moment.” Rose’s fingers worked the locks. She swung the door open, carefully staying inside the frame.
The two officers looked harmless enough. They weren’t overly pale.
“Ma’am, we’ve had reports of prowlers in the neighborhood. They were seen in your yard. May we come in?”
Rose tilted her head, waiting for the frission of fear that warned of vampires. There, distant in the lilacs, but not close. She stepped back, keeping the long staff hidden behind the door. “Of course, officers, you may enter.”
They stepped inside, the older one pulling a notepad from his pocket. “Have you heard anything strange tonight?”
Rose shut the door. “Not so much, officer, but then my hearing isn’t what it used to be.”
“Do you mind if we look around?” The older police officer smiled, but in a perfunctory way, as if doing his duty.
“Uh, Joe? You need to see this.” The younger officer stood in the doorway of the front room.
Rose bit her lip. “I can explain.” She hoped she could. Law enforcement did not encourage belief in the undead.
“I think you’d better save it for a lawyer.” The older officer unhooked cuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest, ma’am, on suspicion of murder.”
“Wait, Joe. This doesn’t look right.”
“Dave, we’ve got a body in plain sight. Killed with a feather duster?”
“It was handy.” Rose held her wrists out. “Can you fasten them loosely? My arthritis has been acting up lately.”
Dave crouched next to the body. “I know this girl, Joe. She was murdered three years ago. Her body disappeared from the morgue. She’s still a Jane Doe in the files. Case was never closed.”
“She doesn’t look three years dead.” Joe turned to Rose. “What is going on here?”
“She’s a vampire, officer. She tried to kill me.”
“And you staked her with a feather duster.” Joe shook his head.
“It’s true, officer. And what’s worse, her whole clan is hunting me. I suspect they’re the prowlers you’re investigating.” Rose clutched the collar of her housecoat. She felt the coldness, though it was late summer outside. Lucretia would never forgive or forget. She and Carlos were waiting for Rose to make a mistake.
“Vampires. Right. How long have you lived here alone, ma’am?”
“The name is Rose. Rose Hunter. My husband and I used to hunt vampires. They’re coming for revenge.” Rose plucked her staff from behind the door. “Believe it or not. Stay inside and you should be safe. And don’t remove that duster. They aren’t dead until they are dust.”
“Crosses and holy water?” Joe shook his head. “Vampires aren’t real. I think you need to come with us. We’ll get you an evaluation and a place to stay for the night.”
“Joe, I think she’s telling the truth. Check out these fangs.” Dave peeled back the dead girl’s lips.
“Holy water does nothing. And crosses only work if they’re silver. Silver is deadly to vampires.”
“Why the garlic necklace? Will that kill them, too?” Joe’s skepticism leaked through every word.
“Not kill, no. They just can’t stand the smell. I’m not leaving my home, not until I’ve dealt with them.” She gestured at the door with her sharpened staff. “Help if you want, but be warned. Bullets do nothing to them. Wood through the heart immobilizes them. Silver will kill them, but only if you lodge it in their veins. And sunlight will finish them off.”
Dave stood, brushing his hands off on his pants. “Beheading works in the movies.”
“If you had a sword and superhuman speed, you might stand a chance of beheading.” Rose cocked her head. “We could try beheading her while she’s immobilized. It might get messy, though. We should move her to the kitchen first.”
Dave swallowed, his face green. “I’ll take your word on it.”
Joe snapped his notepad closed. “I can’t believe you’re discussing beheading a corpse with an old woman, Dave.”
“She is very convincing, Joe.”
Joe turned his attention back to Rose. “All right, prove vampires are hunting you and we’ll help. Otherwise, we’re taking you to County General and checking you into the psych ward. For your own good, of course.”
“Isn’t she proof enough?” Rose waved at the corpse on the floor.
Something thumped on the front porch. Footsteps skittered across the roof.
Rose shivered as the familiar vampire-induced fear roiled in her belly. “They’re here.”
“What do we do?” Dave asked.
“Take her in.” Joe reached for the front door. “Then we can call in the detectives to sort out this mess.”
“Don’t open that door.” Rose flung out her hand, stopping the officer. “They cannot enter unless you invite them. But they are old, and strong, masters at forcing you to do their bidding. Let me open it.”
Carlos’ excitement and bloodlust tingled in her mind. He waited for her, as he had promised he would all those years ago in the Libyan ruins.
Joe unhooked his radio. “Listen, lady, I don’t know what you’re into here, but with a body on your floor, I have to call this in. We have to take you into custody.”
“Wait for the sunrise, please. It will b
e safer for all of us then.” She smelled Carlos, a whiff of decay and cologne she would never forget. He waited on her front porch, just the other side of the door. Would an inch of wood protect her? What if he’d found a way to enter unbidden? Her fear coiled like a snake in her belly, waiting like the vampire, ready to strike when she was most vulnerable. “Do you feel them? Like ice water down your back.”
Joe hesitated, his radio in one hand, the doorknob in the other.
“Rose.” Carlos’ voice whispered on the night wind, seduction threading the single syllable. “Open the door.”
She clutched her robe tighter, shivering like a school girl at her first kiss. The scent of garlic filled her nose. She breathed deep, cleansing her soul of the vampire’s touch.
Joe fingered his radio. “No signal. I need to go to the car to call this in.”
“They’ll kill you.” Rose’s voice scratched across the silken whispers of Carlos’tempting.
Joe tweaked a curtain aside. “There’s no one out there.”
“They are there. Can’t you feel them?” Rose cupped her age-spotted hand over his. “Stay inside. Stay safe.”
The tea kettle crashed to the floor in the kitchen.
Joe’s hand went to his gun. “Dave?”
The other policeman, staggered into the front hall, one hand pressed to his neck. Red blood seeped between his fingers. He collapsed to the floor.
Rose clamped her hand on Joe’s arm. “He’ll recover, if we keep him safe now. He gave them entrance. Put your gun away. It will do no good here.”
“Rose. It has been too long.” A woman sauntered through the arched entrance, hips swaying in a silken dress fifty years out of date. Dark eyes flashed as she studied the policeman standing by the front door. She licked a drop of blood from one corner of her ruby red lips. “Police taste almost like hunters. Imagine that.”
More vampires, teen goths by their dress, slunk behind their mistress, hissing like cats as they caught scent of the garlic Rose still wore. The half-wits, those only partially turned, made good slaves for the masters.
Both Barrels of Monster Hunter Legends (Legends of the Monster Hunter Book 1) Page 20