by R. E. Carr
“I can hunt you down.”
“Oh, OK—I’ll just set off the detonator, then. Let’s get this dance over with quickly.”
“Please!” Mina begged. “Why—just tell me why you would rather stay here? I cannot promise your safety—”
“Don’t you see? We don’t want your safety. We don’t want anything from you. We just want to be left alone! Now you can either take our deal, or we start a war.”
“You need help,” Gail finally choked out. “Maybe we can find a way to stop the madness—”
“No—if we are going to be saved, we are saving ourselves,” Paige countered. “If we go mad, we go mad together. I’m going to ask one last time—are you going to promise to do everything in your power to uphold this treaty . . . or boom?”
25
Boom. Time stood still as Gail saw the twitch. Sparks erupted from the corners of the room as the pressure wave surged. She dove for the ground, hurling her body over the unconscious Steve as she felt her skin bubbling and burning. She clamped her eyes and mouth shut, trying to reduce exposure as the flames roared overhead.
“Fuck!” she screamed, realizing that she couldn’t hear anything over the tremendous clanging in her ears. A monstrous shadow loomed in front of the blaze, all claws and fangs and an emerging muzzle. Gail let out a mix of grunts and howls of her own as she rolled quickly to put out the fire on her back and legs. Her skin, however, had an eerie metallic sheen under where the blisters had boiled away. She gawked for a second at a scale-like pattern on her skin before she heard another roar. Gail grabbed Steve by the remains of his collar and tossed him through a new opening in the wall. The massive body of a singed Mr. Sugar curled around the sheriff as he too bolted from the conflagration.
“Mina! Jonathan!” Gail shrieked as she jumped to the relative safety of the parking lot. The shadow monster burst through the door, clutching a body in each hand. Gail could just make out the tatters of a Red Sox T-shirt amongst the ebony fur.
“Oh fuck me,” she cried again as more faint howls began to penetrate the ringing. Steve yowled and tore at his arm where it had been exposed to the blast. Gail collapsed to her knees at his side and ripped the cellulose-contaminated section of his skin clean off. Steve thrashed again, his eyes bright red and thick bloody sputum spraying from his lips. He began to spasm and cough, fighting for every breath. She grabbed him. “Steve!”
He drove his fangs into her neck, gulping furiously. It took all of Gail’s strength to shove him back to the ground. The sheriff’s cronies dashed about frantically, screaming as they got too close to the building. Mr. Sugar collapsed but continued to crawl as he took his lady to safety, ignoring the embers burning into his back.
More clouds of dust poured from the ruins. Gail’s eyes widened as she saw the cans of cheese rolling into view. “Cellulose grenades, for fuck’s sake!”
Steve coughed and hacked, flopping back to the pavement. Gail grabbed him again, pulling him behind Mina’s town car. He clamped his teeth into her wrist this time. Gail snarled and tried to yank free, this time finding it much harder to break his grip. The car shuddered as two burning, howling vampires were deposited on the hood.
“Gail!” A guttural, inhuman voice roared, loud enough to be heard over the cacophony. Gail peered over the hood to see Edwin and Mina fighting for their lives while a fully-transformed Jonathan stood guard.
“You can talk?” spilt from Gail’s lips before any rational thought could take over.
“Gail, help!” werewolf-Jonathan growled, forcing out the words with the same enunciation as the Incredible Hulk. “Help!”
Churning ichor bubbled from her throat as Gail too gagged and gasped. She turned just in time to spray her acidic spittle to the ground rather than exacerbating the wounded vampires’ injuries. She vomited again, this time spewing out a nasty, foaming mass that stank of parmesan. Steve finally let go of her arm, allowing her to rush to Mina’s side.
“Edwin,” Mina said weakly. “Please—”
The younger vampire had clearly taken the worst of the blast as he convulsed and howled. Blisters rose and popped on his shoulder and back, and a particularly large wooden sliver threatened to dig further between his ribs with every twist and turn. Gail yanked off one of Steve’s gloves and used it to rip away most of the stake. “Blood!” Gail cried over the cacophony.
“Oh my god!” a new voice cried, this one with a southern accent. Gail yowled for blood again, and Beulah dove into the mini bar in the back of Mina’s limo. A heartbeat later, a green bottle was shoved into Gail’s trembling hands. She ripped off the cork and eased the mouth of the bottle between Edwin’s lips. He gulped and made a mess but ultimately got enough of the vital fluid into him to stop convulsing and start repairing the damage. Winona emerged with bottles as well, setting one by Gail and taking over the feeding of Edwin.
“I’ve got this, Gail. You take care of the boss lady and yourself,” the other baby vampire ordered.
Gail chugged just enough to calm the burning in her throat, then handed the bottle to Mina. Singed and weak, she could barely lift the bottle on her own. After a few pathetic sips she waved Gail back. “I will be fine. Care for the others.”
“Drink—” Gail insisted. Once more Mina pushed the bottle away. “Steven is hurt, too.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Gail grumbled as she took the bottle to Steve. “Need more?”
Steve gulped the rest of the bottle in record time. Beulah managed to convince her mistress to retreat into the cover of the limousine. Winona dragged Edwin into the far back and began feeding him off her own wrist while she drained a bottle herself. Gail helped herself to the last of the Harker private reserve and stared, awestruck, at her mending skin. The inner, metallic layer pulsed in time with the whooshing in her chest. “What am I?” Gail gasped.
“What is that?” some of the sheriff’s goons cried as they saw Jonathan’s monstrous silhouette. Gunfire echoed in the night air. Jonathan roared again, his shoulders jerking back in time with the rat-tat-tat.
“No!” Gail screamed. Jonathan crashed to the ground, chest arching as the blood began to well up. Another explosion burst from the side of the restaurant, sending a fresh wave of sparks into the night air. Chills ran down Gail’s spine as she saw new forms outlined against the flames. “No,” she gasped as a howl sounded in the night.
“My lady,” Mr. Sugar cried as he huddled over the tiny sheriff. Gail scrambled to Jonathan’s side. She gingerly touched his fur. He groaned but didn’t take a swipe.
“Help,” the werewolf moaned. Gail cringed and dug one of her own claws into his shoulder. He swiped at her as she dug out the first bullet. She dodged and managed to pin him, so she could rip out the rest of the lead from his flesh.
“Damn it, hold still,” she snarled. His flesh melded together before her very eyes. She heard a click behind her head.
“Oh my god, she’s helping the monster!”
Gail whirled around to see a strange vampire leveling his weapon at her head. His finger twitched. Just as Gail started mouthing, “Please—,” a silver and black streak plowed into the vampire. Gail cowered as a clawed hand tore into the vampire’s chest, clean through to the back. She heard a snap and a crunch before the monster scrambled into the next pack of bloodsuckers.
Jonathan growled and pushed to his feet. “Run!” he snarled, before a dappled werewolf tackled him and sent the half-breed tumbling across the pavement. Gail took the hint and clawed her way along the ground to Steve, trying to keep a low profile as a hail of bullets began to fall. Screams and roars filled the smoky night sky.
“Argh!” Steve cried, gagging and clutching his throat. He spasmed again, gurgling and choking as dark streaks covered his neck and jaw. She dove beneath the car and dragged him under as well, just as two werewolves smashed against the hood, shattering the windshield. Beulah wasted no time revving the engine. Gail just managed to clutch Steve close enough that they slid between the wheels as the limousine made i
ts escape. However, this left them exposed as terrified henchmen shot wildly into the night, and two werewolves alternated taking pot shots at the wounded and confused Jonathan.
“Concentrate your efforts and shoot the werewolves!” the sheriff snarled, now back on her feet with blood running down her chin. Mr. Sugar lay motionless behind her—burned and broken. “Take out their legs and arms!”
The goon squad opened fire again, seemingly incapable of distinguishing Jonathan from the other two black werewolves, even though he clearly had a tail. “They all look alike!” Gail could hear from the throng. Still, with the monsters’ speed and the cover of smoke, only a few shots even grazed them. Once in a while, a new vampire scream would pierce the night sky.
“Oh god,” Steve moaned, grabbing his neck again. Gail started dragging him towards the shelter of another car.
“We’ll be fine . . . we’ll be fine,” she repeated over and over until a new howl dwarfed all the others.
A lone figure walked slowly from the blaze, this one a stark contrast from the other werewolves that had emerged before. The beast moved slowly and deliberately, almost sauntering, with icy-white fur glowing like a halo around its slender yet powerful form. As it turned, a tail uncurled from the base of its spine. For one moment, Gail saw a familiar glint in the creature’s ice-blue eyes.
“Oh god, that’s Nadia,” Gail choked out, mere moments before the werewolf yanked an AK-47 from behind her back and opened fire. “Holy shit, it’s a werewolf with a gun!”
Another spray of bullets filled the parking lot. Gail wasted no time dragging Steve to cover. She wrapped her arms around him and curled against the cool metal. “Now there are werewolves with guns,” she repeated numbly, trying her best to disappear in the shadows.
She heard a crash and then thumping footsteps. Half of a vampire went sailing overhead, followed by a howl. Steve flickered in her arms. Gail closed her eyes and begged the universe, “Please don’t see us. Please don’t see us.”
One of the monsters jumped onto the car above them, snorting and sniffing the night air. Gail held her breath and was as still as she could, now repeating her mantra in her head. The werewolf jumped to the ground only a foot in front of them. His cruel, dark stare reminded Gail of a night back in Austin, and his sheer bulk and confident movements marked him. “Sam,” Gail mouthed, still trying to disappear. The monster looked their way for an eternity, sniffing dangerously close to Gail’s cheek. Her hair rustled with his breath. Finally, his eyes glazed over, and he made a tremendous leap, surging over the sedan that hid the vampires. A moment later, an arm went sailing overhead.
Gail collapsed against Steve. “Oh, thank god you drank Javier’s blood, you invisible bastard,” she whispered in his ear. More gunfire pierced the night, followed by another bone-chilling sound—sirens.
“What now?” Gail stupidly asked the universe. The headlights on a nearby car flickered to life, clearly illuminating the two wounded vampires for the world to see. For a brief moment, before they exploded in a shower of plastic and sparks, Gail could see a strange figure limping away from the chaos. “I had to ask, didn’t I?”
26
Paige growled at the crushing weight against her chest as she came to. Her eyelids rolled open ever so slowly as a dull ache throbbed downwards from her right shoulder. She clawed into the tatters of her coat, grabbing the steel canteen hidden in her sleeve. Her warped, clawed hand fought desperately to wrench open the top, while a mass of taut muscles covered in brilliant red fur collapsed on top of her, making it rather difficult to complete even the simplest of tasks.
“Kyle,” she growled, her voice inhuman and hoarse.
“Holy shit, you can talk!” a nasally voice exclaimed. Bernard squirmed into view, a pair of injectors still stuck in his neck. He opened the canteen and helped push the massive red werewolf to the side so that Paige could drink the last of Lorcan’s blood. Paige stared for a moment at the white, brown, and black fur on her good arm and at the pulsing, expanding stump where her other arm used to be.
“Bernard,” she snarled, the words slurred by her muzzle and protruding canines. She looked at the chaos and destruction around them. “Big boom.”
“Yeah it was a little bigger than we planned, but hey—” One look from Paige sent Bernard scrambling against the reinforced wall of the kitchen. “I should set off the next round. I hear chaos.”
Paige grabbed her head, feeling ears on the top of her skull. Her body ached, and her legs wobbled beneath her, but as the blood burned in her stomach, she found the strength to rip free of her heavy jacket and roll the other werewolf to his side, so she could get a better look. Hunks of wood lodged in his bloodied back. She clawed out the worst of it, so the flesh could mend.
“Kyle,” she growled, nudging him cautiously. The large red werewolf opened his eyes and snarled. “You with me?” she managed to force out. She slapped her chest. “Paige.”
His green eyes looked hazy and confused as he stared at his paws. One sniff of Paige, however, and he nuzzled the side of her face before licking her nose. Bernard stared at them, gobsmacked, holding extra injectors in his hand.
Kyle growled something vaguely like, “Paige,” and lumbered to his feet. He stumbled for a few steps as he got used to the sudden shift in joints as well as a brand-new tail freshly ripped from his back.
“Damn it to hell, he looks even bigger than before, and he’s got one too!” Bernard cried. “And your arm . . . and . . .”
Paige roared. One last lighter-orange werewolf struggled to her feet, the bulge still pulsing on her back. Paige raked her claws through the thin remainder of skin, prompting werewolf-Kayleigh to yowl. Bernard screamed like a little girl as the extra blood and pus splashed at his feet. Kayleigh tried to take a swipe at Paige, but her brother backhanded her with shocking force, sending her tumbling into the kitchen. “No touch!” Kyle snarled.
Paige slammed her fist into his jaw then roared. “My pack. My orders.” Her voice remained husky and low, but Paige found it easier to speak as the last of her fangs settled. Kyle growled but dutifully followed his alpha into the reinforced steel of the kitchen.
“Make the boom,” Paige snarled. Bernard pulled his kit out of the dishwasher. He then tossed a shotgun on the floor. His eyes widened as Kayleigh picked it up.
“Remember how?” Paige asked.
Kayleigh nodded as she checked that it was loaded then tested the trigger with her monstrous hands. Her muzzle curled into a twisted grin.
“You’re all . . . you? The meditation and the mojo worked?” Bernard asked incredulously. “Next time you have got to let me wolf out, too.”
“Focus . . . boom,” Paige said, still fighting for words. “We fight.”
Bernard reached into his stash again and pulled out another gun. He took one look at Kyle’s giant form and muttered, “Nope, Red Hulk doesn’t need this.”
Kyle sniffed the air as the sounds of gunfire grew louder. “Bad,” was his eloquent response to the mix of fire and parmesan burning in the air. Bernard pressed a button and another explosion rang from the parking lot.
“Some days I love my life,” Bernard said as the walls vibrated.
Paige turned her attention to Kayleigh and Kyle. “We fight. This time, they run,” she snarled. Even with only one-and-a-half arms, she took the lead, scrambling over debris and out the back door. Within moments, her claws ripped through cold flesh, and she felt fresh blood spraying on her fur. Her glorious howl spurred equally delighted replies from her pack. By the time the three of them had finished off the stragglers in the back, the gunfire had died down, and a new sound of sirens now filled the air. Paige smiled.
“Time for show,” she snarled before running for the open. A barrage of police, fire crews, and ambulances streamed onto the street, while the last few vampires cowered and ran. Paige howled and leapt on top of a car, making a point to smile to the stunned legion of humans—particularly those with cameras.
Once she heard the
screams and cries of, “What the hell is that?” She and the twins went to work cleaning up the last of the goons. “Do we shoot?”
Paige howled again. She sniffed at the air, and a strong, sweet scent spurred her towards a large body lying on the ground. Mr. Sugar lay dreadfully still on the pavement, his eyes glazed over and his breathing shallow. A ghastly bite wound on his neck revealed that it wasn’t only exploding cheese that had left him in this vulnerable state. A convenient broken board lay within arm’s reach, and Paige snatched it up, but before she could deal a finishing blow, the air shimmered and a foot slammed into her side. Paige landed easily on her feet, snarling as the sheriff finally decided to enter the field of play.
“What the hell is going on?”
“Is that Bigfoot?”
Paige howled again, trying her best to make it sound like, “Retreat!” Another invisible kick landed, but this time she managed to get in a return swipe. Vampire blood sprayed in the air.
“Why is that guy not on camera?”
“Holy shit, is that a—?”
One of the human first responders screamed in panic as he disappeared into the shadows. Paige ran after the scream. She looked back once to see that Mr. Sugar had taken advantage of his reprieve to scuttle into the throng of confused humans. The other howls grew faint and distant as she gave chase to the invisible vampire. The smell of fresh blood led her behind the construction dumpsters where she found the sheriff drinking an older, slower cop dry—her form slowly shifting into Su Min Lung with every sip.
“Do you have any idea what you have done?” Su Min asked.
“Yes,” Paige growled. The vampire stared at her in shock.
“You can talk?” she asked incredulously. Paige then howled twice in quick succession. Almost immediately on her command, another explosion rocked the foundations of DeMarco’s Spicy Ball shack. This time it was enough to collapse the building itself, sending everyone—human and monster alike—running for cover. Paige and Su Min, however, remained locked in a vicious staring contest, neither moving nor flinching as the world around them continued to burn.