The Vampire Hunters (Book 2): Vampyrnomicon

by Baker, Scott M.

  “Shit,” Drake huffed. “That was a waste of two hours.”

  Alison empathized. “We knew this was a hit or miss proposition when we started it.”

  “I know.” The frustration remained in Drake’s voice. “But if we don’t pick up their trail, we risk undoing everything we’ve accomplished since destroying the nest at Wolf Trap.”

  Alison placed her hand on Drake’s forearm and squeezed gently. “There’s nothing we can do about it.”

  “I don’t want this war to go on forever.”

  He placed his hand over Alison’s and squeezed back. She felt a thrill at his touch. If only he had clasped her hand under different circumstances.

  “Come on,” she said. “Let’s give the area another sweep, then we can head home.”

  “Might as well.” Initiating a three-point turn, Drake turned the SUV around and backtracked the way they had just come.

  * * *

  Toni crouched inside the first-floor apartment of the abandoned tenement building, partially hidden by the kitchen counter, watching the midnight-black SUV through the shattered glass of the patio door. She had noticed the vehicle when it first entered the neighborhood because it looked out of place amongst the area’s structural refuse. She did not know who it belonged to. The police. Gang members. Or worse, the hunters. In any case, its presence boded ill, especially tonight. Prudence dictated she take cover until the danger passed, so she went to the nearest empty apartment, punched in the glass door, and hid behind the counter.

  Several minutes later, the SUV cruised by. Toni snarled. As she expected, it was the hunters. She could see Drake behind the steering wheel. The child sat in back with night-vision goggles on his head. The bitch sat in the front passenger’s seat. Toni contemplated an attack. If she lunged now, she could be out of the building and on the SUV in seconds. It would be simple enough to punch in the passenger’s window and rip out the bitch’s throat. With luck, Toni could be gone before the other hunters even knew what hit them. However satisfying as that would be, it would infuriate Chiang Shih, who had ordered that the hunters were to remain untouched until she said otherwise. After what happened to Melinda the other night, Toni did not want to incur Chiang Shih’s wrath. Vengeance could wait. There would be time enough later to make the bitch pay.

  Besides, the squirming bundle tucked under her coat reminded her of the task at hand.

  Toni held the bundle against her chest and made her way to the shattered glass door. Inching to the patio, she peered around the corner of the building. The SUV stopped two blocks down the street. It sat there for several seconds while the child scanned the area with his goggles. Drake moved on, turning left down a side street.

  With the SUV out of sight, Toni took advantage of the opportunity. She raced down the street in the opposite direction. After covering three blocks, she turned right in front of an eight-story abandoned apartment building, crossed the street, and jumped. Gliding through the air, she landed on a third-floor balcony and dropped into a crouch. The bundle squirmed. Toni ignored it. Instead, she surveyed the area to make sure no one saw her, especially the hunters. Satisfied at not having been observed, Toni slid aside the boarded-up balcony door and entered the building.

  The room, like the rest of the building, stank of urine, shit, and body odor. The one-hundred-plus unit apartment building, which had been constructed when the riverfront had been the vibrant part of the city, had long since become an abandoned hulk. For years, the homeless and drug addicts lived here as squatters, treating the building with the same disdain that they treated their own lives. Crime, vandalism, and disorderliness soon followed until the locals complained loud enough for the city to clean out the building, throwing everyone onto the street and sealing off every first- and second-story entrance. Such security made this building ideal for Toni to start her coven. With no one able to enter, there was minimal chance of someone inadvertently stumbling across them. The difficult access had the added benefit of deterring the coven from venturing outside in search of food. Another plus to this location was its size. Eight stories high, with twelve apartments per floor, it provided more than enough space for the coven to live without them falling over one another and without being discovered by outsiders. Most important, the space provided ample opportunities to ambush the hunters if they ever stumbled onto it. She already had prepared several surprises for them on the lower floors.

  Making her way up to the sixth floor via the darkened stairwell, Toni pushed open the door leading to the main corridor and strode down to apartment 608. Stepping inside, she crossed the apartment to the spare bedroom. Two vampires crouched in the corner—a female teenage runaway who made the mistake of asking Toni for a handout, and a punk who tried to rob her at gunpoint. They smelled the meat she brought them and scurried across the floor toward her. Toni growled, forcing them to back down and rush back to their corner. Discipline must be maintained.

  “Are you hungry?” taunted Toni.

  The runaway vampire nodded.

  “Feed us,” demanded the punk.

  “And why am I feeding you?”

  “Because we’re forbidden to leave here without your permission,” answered the punk.

  “And the punishment if you disobey me?”

  The runaway crouched into a ball. “Death.”

  “Very good.” Toni reached under her coat and clasped the bundle. “And the reward if you do as you’re told?”

  The punk half stood, expectantly. “You feed us.”

  Toni nodded. She withdrew the bundle and pulled back the flaps of the blanket that covered it, revealing a five-week-old baby girl. It had become dazed and lethargic, having exhausted itself crying for milk from its mother, a strung-out drug-addict. Less than an hour ago, the whore had offered the baby to Toni for a hundred bucks to buy meth. Toni agreed. If she had not taken the child, the whore would have just pawned it off on someone else, and only Satan knew what terrible fate would have befallen the child. At least now her existence, brief as it would be, would be relatively painless and meaningful. Not that the mother received what she bargained for. Rather than giving her money, Toni tore out her throat, fed until full, ripped out the whore’s heart so she could not turn, and tossed the corpse into a dumpster.

  “Feast, my children.”

  Toni tossed the infant to the vampires. The hungry growls as they sprung from the floor drowned out the child’s wail of terror. The runaway caught the infant in mid-air, turning to face away from the punk as it plunged its fangs into the child’s neck. Pain intensified the infant’s scream. Its face turned crimson as it wailed, the adrenaline sweetening its young blood. The punk raced around front and tried to rip the infant from the runaway, but the latter held on too tight. Instead, it plunged its fangs into the infant’s leg and began feeding.

  Toni turned and walked away. By the time she reached the main corridor, the infant’s cries had died out, replaced by the slurping of the vampires as they bled the child dry.

  * * *

  Drake sat in his recliner, nursing along his iced coffee, his gaze switching between Jessica and Rodriguez. He found this an interesting turn of events, and not necessarily an unpleasant one.

  When Jessica had called him earlier that morning asking if she could drop by, Drake had agreed, hoping for a little morning delight. When Jessica arrived a half hour later, he was surprised to see Rodriguez standing there with her. He invited them in, made them a pot of hot coffee, and spent the next hour listening to Rodriguez relate how he came to believe in the undead. About the security camera footage showing the attack at the morgue that had killed Dekker and Jessica’s photographer. About what happened to him after he released Drake and the others during the raid on the nest. About the turning of Michael Fletcher at the funeral home and how he dispatched the vampire. And, finally, his request to join the hunters.

  It wasn’t an unreasonable request. After what Rodriguez had witnessed, he would have to either admit the existence of the undead or com
mit himself to an asylum. Drake liked the idea of having another hunter in the ranks. A former cop with tactical training, Rodriguez would make a valuable addition to the team. First, he needed to make sure Rodriguez had the determination to be a hunter.

  Leaning forward in the recliner, Drake placed his iced coffee on the end table and focused his attention on Rodriguez. “I don’t mean to sound like I distrust what you told me, but I have to ask. Do you really believe in vampires?”

  Rodriguez looked confused. “Well, yeah. That’s what we’ve been talking about for the past hour, hasn’t it?”

  “If you’re going to hunt them, you have to believe in them completely. There can’t be any room for doubt.”

  “If there’s a more rational explanation, I’ve yet to hear it.”

  “You think you can kill these things, even if they’re in human form?”

  “I had no problem killing that thing in the funeral home.”

  Drake nodded. Rodriguez had handled himself pretty effectively in dispatching Fletcher after he turned.

  “What are the chances of you going back to the force and working with us from inside?”

  “None. If I was dealing just with Roach, that might work. Problem is, Preston’s manipulating the show. He knows exactly what we’re facing, and is trying to cover it up.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he’s a major asshole.” Rodriguez became embarrassed and turned to Jessica. “Sorry about that.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said. “I’ve heard worse from my editor.”

  Rodriguez continued. “Because Preston and I both know about them, I’m a threat to keeping this covered up. Even if he agrees to let me back on the force, I’ll probably be assigned somewhere that’ll give me no access to anything related to vampires.”

  “Good point.” Drake paused. “You don’t have to join this fight. Why do you want to become a hunter?”

  “You’re a former cop, so you understand. I took an oath to protect and to serve. Under the current circumstances, I can’t think of a better way to do that than to clear this city of the undead.” Rodriguez leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “So, am I in or not?”

  Drake thought about Rodriguez’ question, though he really did not need to. Rodriguez would be a valuable asset to the team, and he would be insane not to say yes. Drake stood and offered his hand.

  “Welcome aboard.”

  Rodriguez stood and shook it. “Thanks, man. I appreciate this.”

  Drake chuckled. “Talk to me in a week and tell me if you still appreciate it.”

  “So, what’s next?”

  “Meet me at the office Tuesday around eight. We’ll be going on a hunt that night, and you can join us.”

  * * *

  Crouching, Melinda slid through the hole in the chain-link fence and entered the rear schoolyard. Fortunately she had found this entrance to the grounds because it gave her easy and secret access to the abandoned school she had chosen for her coven. When the city closed down this building years ago, they erected a chain-link fence to keep out trespassers. Not that it did any good, for someone had cut a hole in the rear perimeter fence behind a large bush to keep it hidden from view, more than likely by teenagers who wanted access to the school to party. It didn’t matter to her.

  Pausing just inside the fence, she scanned the grounds for signs of life. It would be hard to explain why an eleven-year-old girl rummaged around a derelict school at three in the morning. No one was around. Everyone who lived in the nearby houses appeared to be in bed. Moving quickly, she crossed the school yard, passing by the rusted swing sets and climbing bars, and climbed the rear stairs. When she first checked out this location as a potential coven two nights ago, she had found one of the double rear doors closed but ajar. Pushing the door aside, she stepped inside.

  Melinda made her way downstairs. Being a decades-old structure, this building contained the perfect hiding place for her coven—a Cold War-era fallout shelter. No windows. No direct access to the outside. Soundproof. And large enough to hold up to two hundred people. She would establish her coven here, and with luck it would remain unnoticed by the humans. She would develop the coven until it became the largest and most ferocious in Washington. Then Melinda would show Chiang Shih that she was the cunt’s most important master.

  Gyrating her lower jaw, Melinda could still feel where Chiang Shih had broken it during the other night’s altercation. Fucking bitch. What the hell did she know about hunting? Her orders to establish covens and feed them with the dregs of society showed just how out of touch Chiang Shih was with today’s reality. Washington D.C. was not Medieval Europe, where the undead could feast on anyone they liked, hiding behind the humans’ fear and superstitions. Today the humans had around-the-clock cable news, Amber Alerts, city-wide security cameras, and a greater tolerance for accepting the unbelievable. Yet Chiang Shih remained in denial about all that. It had been decades since the bitch had hunted prey, preferring to let her Nubian lapdog Walker fetch food for her. Chiang Shih no longer had to live like a vampire. Maybe if she acted—

  The door to the classroom she had just passed banged open, starling Melinda. Three teenage boys in matching denim jackets rushed out. One of them pinned her arms behind her back while the others grabbed one leg each. They dragged her back into the classroom.

  “What do we got here?” asked the teenager who pinned her arms.

  “Looks like some sweet thing wants to go to school,” said the teenager wearing a bandana.

  “No sweet girl would be walking around this place at three in the morning,” added the bald teenager.

  “In any case, we’re gonna give her an education.” The teenager holding Melinda’s arms ran his tongue up the side of her face.

  Melinda feigned at putting up a struggle, yelling at them to let her go and thrashing around just enough to keep up appearances.

  The teenagers threw Melinda on the floor. The one pinning her arms moved to the side and pressed a knee down on her right arm. Bandana boy grabbed her left arm, sitting on her hand and holding down her forearm. The bald teenager shoved her legs aside, yanked her skirt over her hips, and tore off her panties. Melinda kicked at him, catching him in the shoulder.

  “Calm down, bitch.” Baldy slugged her, his knuckles connecting with her recently-fractured jaw. Pain shot through her body. He unzipped his pants and pulled out his dick, all four inches of it.

  “Go ahead, man,” chided bandana boy. “Stick the bitch.”

  Crawling on top of Melinda, the bald teenager mounted her, shoving his dick in to the hilt. He raped her, humping furiously. Melinda smiled. She would enjoy watching this one die.

  “Hey, guys,” he said. “She likes it.”

  Melinda looked up at him. “Is it in yet?”

  “Fuck you!” The bald teenager maneuvered himself to get a better angle, then began to rape her more violently. “How do you like this, bitch? We’re gonna fuck you like there’s no tomorrow.”

  “For you, there isn’t.”

  Melinda morphed into her vampiric form. The bald teenager yelled and tried to pull out, but she tightened her vaginal lips, holding him in place. Before either of the other two could react, Melinda immobilized them. She reached over to the teenager kneeling on her arm and drew her talons across his Achilles tendons, gouging four deep gashes in the skin. He rolled off her arm onto the floor, screaming. At the same time, with her other hand, she plunged her talons into bandana boy’s pelvis, tightened her grip, and tore off his cock and scrotum. Bandana boy fell face first onto the classroom floor, holding his bloody crotch and weeping. The bald teenager frantically tried to pull himself free, without success. Melinda clasped him on both sides of his head. With a snarl, she plunged her fangs into his throat, biting down and feeding. His scream became a gurgle. Melinda drank just enough blood so that the teenager would bleed out and die, ensuring he would come back as one of the undead. When she finished, Melinda released her bite and relaxed her vaginal muscles
. The teenager crumbled to one side, what little life he had left draining from his body.

  Melinda stood. Blood dripped from her mouth and chin. She reverted into her human form and checked out the other two teenagers, selecting her next victim. The rapidly growing pool of blood surrounding bandana boy’s abdomen told her she only had a few minutes left. She reached down, grabbed him by his hair, and yanked him to his feet. He whimpered and shut his eyes. Melinda plunged her fangs into his neck, again feeding just long enough to turn him. The teenager died in her hands. She tossed him aside, and then turned her attention to victim number three.

  The surviving teenager crawled across the floor toward the door, panting, leaving a trail of blood from his injured ankle. Melinda followed. When she caught up with him, she placed the sole of her shoe on the gashed tendons and stomped down. He cried out. Rolling onto his back, the teenager raised his leg and cradled his ankle.

  “Please,” he pleaded, his breath coming in painful gasps. “I don’t want to die.”

  Melinda knelt beside him. She stroked his forehead, pushing sweaty locks of hair out of his face. “I’m sorry, but you are going to die.”

  The teenager began to cry.

  “Don’t worry. It’ll be quick. Then you’ll come back as one of us. Which is much more than you deserve.”

  Melinda sunk her fangs into his neck and drank. When his thrashing and whimpering died out, she stopped sucking and let the body slide to the floor. Standing up, she looked around at the carnage. Not bad for one night’s work. Three assholes recruited to her coven. Three malcontented shits that, once let loose on Washington, would fuck up the city big time. Chiang Shih could stick that up her ancient, puckered ass.

  Melinda grabbed her last victim under his arms and dragged him across the classroom. She would have just enough time to get these three down to the fallout shelter and get back to her hotel before sunrise.

  12.

  Reese went through the by-now all too familiar routine for reading Ferrar’s memoirs. Show up when the museum opens. Putter around for fifteen to twenty minutes until the other researchers arrived. Then wait until everyone became engrossed in their own projects before retrieving the basswood case, removing the Bible, and sliding the hand-written memoirs from their pouch. Thumbing through the pages until he came to the location where he had last left off, Reese resumed translating.