by Bones Monroe
Bob attacked Grace with his weapon, which now dripped some vile pus-colored cream off the end. The pungent smell filled the room and made Ben’s stomach gurgle.
Before Bob could reach Grace, Ben threw himself in between the captain and his daughter. The weapon struck Ben. The chemical smeared over his shoulder, but Ben was unfazed. He ignored it and wrapped his arms around Bob, immobilizing him in a bear hug.
Grace moved in as fast as she could to take advantage of her father overpowering Bob. When she reached for the captain, his eyes widened with fear, and he tore away from Ben in a desperate frenzy. Too late. Grace’s hand was already around his throat.
Bob stared deep into Grace’s eyes for a split second, trying to find any ounce of humanity or compassion in them. All he saw was black, seething anger. Grace jerked her hand sideways and tore Bob’s windpipe open with a sickening, wet ripping sound.
Bob stumbled backward grasping his neck, the blood spurting in a sickening stream. He tried to speak but succeeded in only making some alarming gurgling noises. Grace put him out of his misery while Ben threw up in the corner.
“I didn’t think you could do that,” he said wiping his mouth.
“Like I said, there are benefits to being a vampire. I’m stronger than you. If you’ll excuse me, I need a snack.”
Without waiting for a reply, Grace knelt over the recently deceased Capt. Bob and feasted on his still warm blood.
“Mmmmmmm,” she said in between slurps. “O+. I love it. Full-bodied yet flaccid. It comes in with a strong punch but leaves no aftertaste,” she murmured. “You should try it, Dad.”
“Ummmm, yeah. Based on that description, I think I’ll pass.” Ben felt awkward. Maybe he shouldn’t be here. This was his daughter. “Do you need a moment? I can give you some privacy.”
When Grace didn’t answer, Ben thought it prudent to leave his daughter alone. He walked up a few stairs and sat down to wait for his daughter to finish. This was awkward.
“They grow up so fast, don’t they?” a voice growled behind him. A cool, room-temperature-hand clamped over his mouth, preventing him from screaming.
Ben struggled to free himself, but the man wrapped his steel-like arm around Ben’s chest, pinning him down.
Then, inexplicably the man released Ben and pushed him away. Ben crashed into the wall and spun around.
“Oliver!”
Instead of responding, Oliver frantically wiped his bicep with his sleeve. Then he snarled at Ben while staring at the pungent smelling substance that Bob had attacked him with.
“Stupid Captain. I told him that was a bad choice of weapon. It is strictly for expert melee fighters,” he mumbled. “I hope he’s dead. That’ll teach him.”
“He is,” Ben replied, getting ready to make a break for it. But first he had to know. “What did he use on me? A new CURE weapon?”
“No, he went medieval on you. That was a garlic press,” Oliver said.
“I see,” Ben mused. “I think he ruined my shirt.”
“I’ll finish the job, and then I’ll take care of your brat.”
Before Oliver could move, Ben ran down the steps two at a time, fleeing the vampiric ice cream man intent on his demise. He didn’t dare to look behind him. He didn’t need to. Oliver’s claws raked his back and completely ruined his shirt.
Ben made it to the landing, took a hard right, and took off down the hall. He only made it a few steps before the unthinkable happened. He tripped. In trying to maintain his balance, he stumbled, only to crash face first into the floor. He awaited his doom.
His doom must have had a prior commitment because it didn’t show up. Instead, Ben heard a commotion behind him. He turned on his side and came face to foot with several parts of the dearly departed Captain. He must have tripped over a severed limb. Grace was always such a messy eater, Ben thought.
He saw Grace and Oliver squaring off. A battle at high noon. They stood several feet apart, facing each other. Analyzing. Gaging strengths and weaknesses. SWOT analysis. Standard deviation calculations.
She looks different, Ben thought.
Oliver feinted a lunge, testing Grace’s defenses. She moved lithely away, always facing the ice cream man.
Her movements made him realize that she was different. She was back. All of her. Her wounds had healed. Her arm was back. She was whole once again.
It must have been the blood, Ben thought.
Oliver attacked with a speed and ferocity that surprised Ben. The vampire always seemed like a slow dotard, but it was all a sham. A well-calculated ruse he was playing to weasel his way into North Wellon.
Oliver was a blur of motion. And so was Grace. They moved at equal speeds.
Fang vs. fang. Claw vs. claw. A battle between a teenage cat and an old experienced Tom. Vim & vigor vs. age & arthritis.
Whereas Grace moved with abundant, reckless energy, Oliver did so with deadly efficiency. No move wasted; no extra energy spent.
Grace’s was tiring and Oliver sensed it. Her reaction times slowed by a millisecond. She made mistakes. Oliver kept testing her mercilessly, not giving her a chance to recover.
Oliver saw an opportunity, and he took it. They tumbled in a ball of frenzied claws and growls. Ben knew that she was outmatched. He wouldn’t lose his precious daughter twice. He had to do something.
Oliver was on top of Grace, pinning her arms under his knees. She was helpless.
Ben grabbed Bob’s severed hand and slapped Oliver with it, pretending he would challenge him to a duel. The unmitigated gall of the action shocked Oliver. From the look on his face, Ben could tell he had never been slapped with a dismembered hand before, much less by a filthy human meatbag. That second of shock was all the time that Ben needed.
“I’m going medieval on your ass, Ice Cream Man!” Ben howled as he pushed the garlic press straight into Oliver’s eye. Oliver jerked back in agony, trying desperately to get away.
Ben smeared the pungent garlic all over Oliver’s face. “I always liked aioli, don’t you?” Ben mocked.
Oliver shrieked as his face melted under the condiment onslaught. His cheek bubbled, and the skin sloughed off. The pure garlic mash was acid on his face.
The half-melted Oliver stumbled toward Grace and at the last second pivoted toward Ben. He punched Ben with his fist, landing a blow on Ben’s right temple that echoed through the hallway.
Ben’s neck twisted at a grossly unnatural angle, and he collapsed like a rag doll. Oliver, having spent his last bit of energy, gave Grace one last smirk, and he shuffled away.
“Daddddyyyy!” Grace wailed, rushing to his side. She slapped his cheek trying to wake him up. He stared ahead with glassy eyes.
“Baaybb…” he muttered softly, the life ebbing out of him.
“No, Daddy, you can’t go. Not now. I need you! We can get help. I promise I won’t sneak out anymore, just don’t go! Please!” she cried.
Ben reached up feebly to stroke her hair. “I can’t see. But you know how I always loved your hair. So soft …”
“Daddy, I can’t lose you. You’re all I have left! I’ll save you.”
Ben’s eyes fluttered open, “No. Don’t. It’s not right. I don’t want that,” he said weakly.
Grace ignored her father’s last wishes. She bared her fangs and drove them deep into Ben’s neck.
Chapter 24
“I knew this was where it would end up, even though no one was willing to say it,” Valfred said to the group of inhumans seated before him. “Did you really think that inhumans and humans could live in harmony?” He shook his head. “Of course not, we are too different.”
The inhumans scored a resounding win against CURE. They destroyed the headquarters and all the CURE agents were dead or had fled, but they could not have done it without the other factions of inhumans joining the fight. Their coordinated attack caught the humans by surprise and allowed them to give them a walloping.
“Now what?” a small squirrelly shifter in the front row ask
ed.
“I’ve been in communication with the other factions,” Valfred answered. “They’re rejoicing in our victory, but we lack leadership. I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone.”
His lieutenants sitting before him mumbled their displeasure.
“Now humans know they can’t push us around. We’re stronger, faster and better than they are. Their time has ended. The dead shall live again!” Valfred roared.
“The dead shall live again!” the group roared back in a frenzy of excitement. They thrust claws and fists into the air in a spirit of rebellion.
Grace was caught up in the excitement. She looked around for her father, but she couldn’t find him.
He worried her. After she turned Ben against his wishes, he became sullen and wouldn’t speak to her.
She tried consoling him by telling him the few tips and tricks that Lamia had shared with her. He stared at her in anger, occasionally poking himself with a pin.
The inhumans moved en masse from North Wellon to the old underground network of subway tunnels that ran under the city. This was much better for everyone. No sunlight to deal with, a nice cool temperature, and they could easily defend themselves.
Grace walked the streets for over an hour and could not find Ben anywhere. She asked around, and before long, everyone had joined in the search.
He was gone.
“Look, I found something! Here,” a searcher said.
He led Grace down a little-used side tunnel that ended at an exit to the outside. The entire faction had spent the last few days reinforcing and locking all the entrances. Someone had forced this one open. The lock and chain were strewn on the ground. The door was open a few inches, letting in the cool night air.
“He left?” Grace mused. “This isn’t right. He wouldn’t leave on his own. Something’s up. I’m going to find him.”
Valfred gripped Grace by the shoulder. “Leave him be. Turning is a traumatic experience. He needs time to come to terms with it. He’ll return when the time is right.”
He turned Grace around to face him. “We have other matters to discuss. They told me you turned him against his wishes?”
“Yes, I didn’t want him to die. I had no choice!” She made eye contact with the dozen inhumans that stood behind her. They shook their heads in disapproval.
“What?” she asked. “Was that wrong?”
“That is taboo for us. The last thoughts before turning carry cement into the personality of the freshly turned. We didn’t realize the connection until recently. Medieval vampires turned whoever they desired, but it never ended well. Inter-clan feuds, distrust, generational warfare. Now we know why.” Valfred swung his hand, and the inhumans parted.
“We must take a vote to see what we’ll do with you.”
“A vote? It’s that serious? He was my father!”
“We have all lost loved ones. That’s no excuse.”
They led her deep into the tunnels where she had never been before. They locked her up in a room and gave her a lecture.
“Please don’t try to escape. Our guards are watching you. If you do make it out of here, our trackers will find you. We will hold a vote shortly,” Valfred said before he closed the door.
Grace dropped her head into both her hands. Is this any better than before? At least Dad was here. Daddy. What have I done to you? she thought as tears flowed through her fingers.
The End
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