by Ilana Waters
“What hurts, baby?” Abigail asked, starting to rifle through her pockets, presumably for remedies.
“Everything,” Titus said, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. He glanced around. “Where are we?”
“We’re in a distillery,” I explained. “That’s where Ferox’s minions took you. But we’re making plans to depart very soon. I hope.”
“How did you find me?” he asked.
“Abigail has a locater spell on you,” George said.
Titus leaned his head against the wall and groaned again. “Of course she does.”
“So, what’s that you said about Ferox not wanting you dead?” I joked weakly. Titus looked daggers at me. Arthur peered at my father and whistled low.
“Christ, Aurelius, you really do look dreadful,” he said.
Titus caught sight of Arthur. His eyes began to gleam in a way I knew only meant one thing.
“Oh, good,” he said in almost a whisper. “You brought a snack.” Even in his weakened state, he lunged for Arthur so fast the latter barely had time to jump back.
“Father, no!” I cried.
“Titus, please!” Abigail begged. We each grabbed him by one arm as he snarled and struggled against us.
“Steady on, man,” said George, pulling him back by the shoulders. “All in good time. You’ve made it this far; you can hold out a bit longer.” Our combined strength finally won out, and Titus glared at Arthur, chest heaving. Arthur moved as far away from Titus as possible without coming out from behind the drum. Brave as he was, his skin had gone white with terror.
“When I get my hands on those miscreants, I’m going to choke them with their own entrails!” Titus rasped.
“Not so fast there, mate,” George said. “You’re in no shape to do anything of the kind.” There aren’t many people in the world who could get away with talking to my father like that, or slapping him, except maybe Abigail. It was a good thing George had known Titus so long, and that their fathers were friends. “Ah!” He snapped his fingers. “I’ve an idea.” He whispered something in my ear.
“No, George,” I said firmly. “I can’t have you risking—George!”
Too late. George had already stepped out in front of the drum and was slowly making his way towards the vampires, whistling.
“Right, then. I’ve had enough of this for one night. Why don’t we settle it duel-style?”
“Oh please,” scoffed Rattler. “What do you take us for?”
“Yeah!” echoed the other male vampire. “This is obviously a trap. As soon as we step out, you’ll use some kind of magic to kill us. Do you think we’re idiots?”
“I absolutely think you’re idiots,” George replied. “But that’s irrelevant.” He was getting nearer and nearer to the vampires’ drum, and the rest of us were holding our breath. Abigail was digging her nails into my shirtsleeve. Even Titus looked concerned.
“It’s simple,” he said, wiping a finger along the last drum before the vampires’ and examining it. “I mean, I’m so close to you. Surely you’d snatch me up before my associates could do anything? Awfully tempting, isn’t it? But if you want to be chivalrous, well, we sent out one man, so now you send out one. After that—”
He didn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Merula came into view, eyes blazing, fangs bared. She ran at George even though her companions were screaming at her not to.
“Joshua!” George cried, his voice tinged with panic. “NOW!”
I thrust my palms out, balled them into fists, and pulled at the air surrounding Merula and George. Despite Merula’s snarling and clawing at the spell, I managed to yank her and George back with such force that the latter tumbled to the ground behind the drum. Merula, on the other hand, hit the wall at an angle that landed her straight in Titus’s lap.
“There you go, old boy,” George said. He stood up and dusted himself off. “Dinner’s on me.” Titus’s smile was enormous as he sank his fangs into Merula’s throat. All of us turned away until Merula’s screams and thrashing died down.
When we were able to look again, Titus was smiling and wiping blood off his lips. Though his injuries and color weren’t perfect yet, they were much better. Merula’s lifeless body lay against the wall, and I started using telekinesis to move it out of sight. If only telekinesis were as easy to work on conscious beings, we’d have finished with those other vampires ages ago.
“Wait,” Titus said, getting up. “I have plans for that one.”
Plans? Did he intend to take her bloodless body home as a trophy? Abigail was not going to be happy.
“Well, what now?” Titus asked, leaning one hand against the drum for support. “I see you’ve used arrows, fire magic, and explosives. But if the voices I heard were any indication, we still have two other vampires to contend with. Any ideas?”
“Wait, are those barrels of whiskey in the corner?” I asked, pointing to the opposite wall. Two were in plain view, and I could see part of another hidden behind a drum.
“Probably,” said Arthur, “but don’t you remember what I told you? Even if the liquor hasn’t evaporated, it’s still contaminated. That’s why the government shut the place down.”
I looked at George, and we both grinned. “Don’t worry, Arthur,” I said. “We don’t want to drink it.”
Quickly, George got several explosives from his duffel. He used telekinesis to line them up in front of drum after drum. Then he blinked at each one, and they lit up. The burst of noise and flame sent the vampires hissing and growling as they tried to back away.
“Fantastic!” I cried. “We’ll drive them to the opposite wall. Why didn’t we think of this before? George, do you have enough left in you to blow those barrels?”
“No need, old friend.” George took what looked like a remote control out of his duffel.
“What do you mean?” asked Arthur.
“I mean, I’ve already handled it,” said George, smiling.
“Boys, please be careful,” Abigail said.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Titus added, his face drawn. But it seemed to be working. Even after the fire from the explosives died down, each new one sent the vampires running and ducking behind another drum. Every time they did so, it brought them closer to the barrels of whiskey. Watching them intently, George pressed the remote’s red button. Something behind the barrels made a popping noise and sent off a spark.
“Get back!” we heard Rattler shout. But like a bad firecracker on the Fourth of July, the explosive just sputtered and died.
“Hold on,” I said to George. “I thought you were going to set the barrels on fire with your mind. Why is there a bomb behind them? I didn’t see you put anything there before.”
“And it never went off,” Arthur added. “Are you sure you didn’t do anything wrong?”
George shook his head. “I’m positive.”
“There’s no need to be embarrassed,” Abigail said, patting his arm. “It happens to all men on occas—”
“Shhh!” George hissed. “Just wait for it.” He poised his hand over a green button on the controller.
Realizing there was no danger, Rattler’s friend walked over to the barrels. Still mostly hidden behind a drum, we couldn’t see him, but we heard his barking laugh.
“That was your big plan?” he guffawed, kneeling down and plucking a wire from in between two barrels. “That’s patheti—”
We didn’t hear the rest. As soon as George pressed the second button, the vampire’s voice was drowned out in an enormous series of booms. I’m glad to report it all happened so quickly, I didn’t see various pieces of bloodsucker being scattered throughout the room. I didn’t even have to lend any air magic. The alcohol in the barrels burned better than I ever could have made it do in my present condition. George was laughing like a maniac, and Titus joined in, clapping him on the shoulder.
I grabbed George by the lapels. “Is this what you were doing when you drove up here earlier today?” I demand
ed. “Planting explosives around the distillery?”
George continued giggling in a way that made him look like the devil.
“For fuck’s sake, George!” I shook him hard. “You were supposed to be looking for my father. Plus, you could’ve gotten killed.”
“I did look for him,” George said, prying my fingers off his jacket. “I just didn’t have time to find him.”
“Because you were busy decorating with a bunch of bloody bombs!”
“Only a few. I know what I’m doing when it comes to these things. And since vampires sleep when the sun’s out, I was perfectly safe. More’s the pity,” he grumbled. “So hard to get a good thrill nowadays.”
“But what if something had gone wrong, like—”
I felt Arthur tapping me on the shoulder. “Ah, Joshua . . .”
“Not now, Arthur.” I waved him away while continuing to address George. “As I said, something could have gone wrong, like—”
“Like a fire raging out of control?” Titus asked.
“Yes! What? No, nothing like that. Why would there be a fire raging out of control here in the middle of the day?”
“Not in the middle of the day, Joshua,” Abigail said. “Right now!” She grabbed my arm and pointed to where the bombs went off. What had been concrete mere moments ago was now a wall of fire. One I’d forgotten to withdraw the oxygen from because I was busy rebuking George.
Oh, crap.
“Joshua, can you put it out? Or make it smaller? Joshua!” George yelled.
George was shaking me by the shoulders, and Lord knows I was trying, but it was too much. Too much fighting, too much bleeding, too much magic lost. I was in no shape to extinguish a conflagration so big.
“I do believe that’s our exit cue,” said Titus as part of the back wall collapsed. The fire was spreading to the other side of the distillery now, quickly overtaking the front walls as well.
“But look—it’s Rattler!” I cried, pointing at the last vampire. Somehow, he’d managed to avoid the blast and was crouched on the walkway rail at the opposite end of the room. His duster was burned beyond repair, his face a mess of angry scorch marks. With a wink, he leapt over the fire and disintegrating back wall. Then he was gone.
“Dammit!” I screamed.
“There’s no time to worry about him, Joshua,” Abigail said. “We have to get out of here now.” As if to punctuate her point, the roof above where the barrels once were caved in, sending a wave of heat, ash, and debris toward us.
“Time to go,” Arthur said. We grabbed our duffels and started heading towards the front doors before the fire could consume them—and us. We were halfway there when Abigail whirled around.
“Wait,” she said. “Your father, Joshua. Where did he go?” She started running toward the drum we’d hidden behind.
“Mom, no!” I grabbed her arm to prevent her going any farther. Another piece of the ceiling fell only feet from us, and I jumped out of the way, dragging her with me. The smoke in the room was making it hard to see and breathe. “You can’t go back,” I said. “You’ll be killed.”
“I’m not leaving him,” Abigail said, trying to twist away from me. “He must have been too weak to follow us. We should have known. Titus! Titus!” she called, and the last word ended in an uncontrollable cough. She leaned against me, unable to stand until she caught her breath.
“Right here,” said my father, emerging through a gray, billowing cloud of smoke. He was staggering and shirtless, and I soon saw the reason for the latter. His shirt was slung over one shoulder because he’d turned it into a makeshift sack. A sack through which bright red blood was seeping.
“God’s sake, Titus!” Abigail snapped, pulling him by the hand. “Don’t ever do that to me again! Can you walk?”
“Of course I can walk, woman!” he scoffed. But I had a feeling he meant “just barely.”
Do I even want to know what’s in your shirt? I said to him as we made a run for it. But he did not reply.
“Hurry!” Arthur yelled from up ahead. “It would be bloody ironic to survive vampires and explosions only to be killed a fire.”
“But what a way to go, yeah?” said George. I couldn’t believe it; he was still smiling, and now he dangled the keys to the pickup truck in his hand. I don’t even know when he’d snagged them from Arthur. “I’ll drive.”
Some of us had gotten singed, and we were all perspiring and covered in soot smudges. But that’s not what I remember most. As the pickup’s tires squealed, spinning dust and gravel in their wake, the last image burned into my mind was what I saw in the rearview mirror. It was the old distillery, engulfed in flames, crumbling to the ground.
Chapter 13
The ride back to the hotel was a bit longer than expected; we had to stop so Titus could feed on some farm animals. We threw a coat over him so the Hassler staff wouldn’t suspect anything when we made our entrance. But really, this couldn’t continue. It was the second time we’d stumbled into their lobby looking like extras in a zombie apocalypse movie. I had half a mind to tell them we were.
Fortunately, Titus managed to hide whatever was in his bloody shirt sack underneath his coat. We questioned him several times about it, but he just smiled and tucked it into the suite’s freezer. “And don’t go looking in there until it’s time for show and tell!” he said, waggling a finger at us. As curious as we were, no one dared.
The next night, we were all in the suite again, which looked much better. We’d cleaned up most of the damage and requested replacements of a few items. The staff discreetly complied, probably used to having their rooms trashed by intoxicated celebrities. Titus sat in one of the armchairs, and although his condition had improved, I feared he wasn’t at his full strength.
“Are you sure you don’t want to rest a little longer, Father?” I asked, pointing to the bedroom where Abigail had drawn the curtains tight earlier that day. “I mean, after . . .”
Titus rolled his eyes. “There’s no need to get so emotional. It’s not as if this is the first time I’ve been kidnapped and tortured.”
“Ah, right. I know.” I patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll have to regale me with those tales sometime. I’m actually surprised you’re so calm. I thought you’d be hell-bent on revenge, rampaging your way through Ferox’s lair to choke him with your bare hands.”
Titus gave a chilling smile and stared into the distance. “I already have plans in the works. Not to take down Ferox entirely; we need more time to think about that. Just something to let his flock know not to trouble this old fox again.”
“Are you going to tell us what those plans are?” I asked.
Titus turned his smile to me. “What do you think?” I did not press the matter further.
I watched George and my mother use telekinesis to reposition a couch, and couldn’t help but be jealous of how quickly George had mended. Consuming blood had healed most of Titus’s injuries, and Abigail used some of her magic last night to address Arthur’s. She’d been especially concerned about mine, but I knew I’d be all right.
Still, the slowness of it was irritating. Really, after all I’d been through in the past few weeks, it was a wonder my body even bothered with repair. At the rate I was getting pummeled, it could have stayed broken and saved itself a lot of trouble.
We gathered around my father and told him everything that happened while he was unconscious. He was impressed by how we battled the vampires, but not quite as I expected.
“Let me make sure I understand you correctly,” he said to me. “After you let Merula beat you to a bloody pulp, George had to come to your rescue with his explosive devices.”
My jaw dropped. “Excuse me, but I stopped her from going through the door that you and Mom came through shortly afterwards. If I hadn’t, you might be dead right now.”
Titus shook his head. “That is no excuse for shoddy magic.”
I raised my hands to the ceiling. “Never mind, then. George, perhaps you should be his son inst
ead.”
George smiled at Titus. “You could adopt me,” he said, adjusting his cap and bow tie.
“It really was a team effort, though,” Arthur said, sipping a glass of scotch. “After all, we never would have found you without Abigail.” He raised his glass to my mother, who’d sat in a chair next to Titus.
“And nice work with that crossbow,” George said to him, lifting his own glass. “I do hope we get to blow things up together again one day.”
“Erm, yes, of course. Looking forward to it,” Arthur replied, taking a long drink.
“Speaking of work . . .” George rose from his chair. “I think I’ll be having that file you’re keeping on me now.” He walked over to the table where Arthur dropped his satchel when he first came in. Arthur jumped from his chair and spilled his drink in an attempt to reach the file first, but George was too quick for him.
“Wait—” Arthur started.
“I trust these are the only copies in your possession?” George asked, raising his eyebrows.
“I didn’t have time . . . to make duplicates . . . before this kidnapping Titus business came about.” Arthur kept reaching for the file, but George held it high, just out of his grasp.
“Perfect.” George turned around and placed the file in his palm. The whole mess burst into flames. Arthur moved in front of George, but jumped back when he saw the fire, a look of dismay on his face. We watched the file burn down to ash, which George blew off his fingertips, wiping the remains on his trouser leg.
“George, the carpet!” Abigail said. “The staff just vacuumed.”
“I apologize, my lady,” George replied. “But I’ve managed to keep the PIA out of my life for centuries, and I think it’s best for all involved if it stayed that way.” He fixed his eyes on Arthur and smiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mr. Hartwood.”
Arthur frowned at him. “And what exactly am I supposed to tell my superiors? Or Philip, for that matter? He’s supposed to be helping me with you—with that.” He indicated the ash on the floor.
“You’re a clever man, Arthur.” George patted his upper arm. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”