Blood City: Book Two Of The Monster Keeper Series

by Jeff Seats

  As he rounded the bend, he saw a flicker of illumination coming from a junction, or another breach in the cement wall, and into another tunnel. Then a body stepped out from this opening and into the passageway. The shapely silhouette was that of a woman—Steph. It appeared as though she was looking to see if he had followed her. Satisfied, she deliberately turned back toward the light, took a step and disappeared.

  Craig’s heart pounded, recognizing this as an obvious set-up. The whole thing, from killing Terry to luring him and Liz into these tunnels, was a trap. He fingered his mother’s silver rosary hanging around his neck—a gift with an unspoken acknowledgment she knew her boy needed protection. He made a quick sign of the cross, kissed the crucifix, and tucked the silver beads back under his collar—an action he couldn’t remember having done for a very long time. Then he gave the rosary a pat for luck, and cautiously walked through the doorway towards uncertainty.

  Steph stood in the center of the chamber next to a decaying armchair. She was facing the door waiting for Craig, ready to pounce yet did nothing. He took a hesitant step towards her, gun at the ready. Then there was a flash of movement to his left rushing towards him from a dark recess. Craig turned and fired his weapon once into the attacking shadow dropping it. Before he could assess his situation completely another figure, directly behind the first, charged aggressively towards him too. He fired two more rounds into this vampire as well, ending it. Then he quickly spun back towards Steph; sweeping eyes around, looking for any other bloodsuckers who might be hiding.

  Seeing none, his eyes fell back upon Steph still patiently standing next to the chair. A wisp of dark vapor began to form; swirling around her. Its black tendrils wove themselves together into an increasingly dense shape of a man standing in front of the dilapidated piece of furniture.

  “Welcome, Agent Wright,” Vladimir said after he materialized into flesh next to his dark-haired follower. “I am flattered by so many important visitors.” He sat on the rotted fabric of the chair that could have been off the set of Dark Shadows; perching in regal majesty as though the dripping, brick-lined chamber his throne room. Steph stood by his side, his loyal consort, or royal guard. Or both.

  Again, Craig had an inappropriately timed thought at how hackneyed the whole image before him was—an ancient vampire sitting in a dank underground cell on a rotting armchair with his lightly clad vixen and with the clichéd name of Vlad to boot! The only things missing were his red-velvet-lined cape and coffin.

  Craig took another step into the room, his gun now leveled at Vlad’s heart, determined to take him down no matter what. He took another step and another and—he could move no further. His whole body felt as though it were suspended in acrylic, like the fabled ant preserved in amber.

  “You are under arrest.” Craig heard himself say stupidly but only as an echo in his mind, his jaw and lips not moving.

  I’m so fucked. He thought.

  Another voice arose in his mind. “Yes, Agent Wright. It appears that you are fucked. But not in a good way. As the joke goes. No?” Vladimir said, lips not moving. “And it appears that it is I who have arrested you.” Vladimir laughed at his own play on words.

  Then Craig felt something else inside his brain, something unnatural—Vlad had reached into his head; intruding into the dark recesses of his mind, fingering through the stored files he had locked away for no one to see.

  “Ah. You know of the Master Sergeant’s fate. It is a shame that, like you, he could not be trusted to become a member of my small circle. A boy scout as a youth, a boy scout as an adult, and in my experience, a boy scout as an immortal. Always striving to do the right thing. I learned from my blood-father that grudges can carry from the mortal to the immortal life. Thus, I am compelled to end your continued existence as I have done to JR.” Vladimir sat back in his throne to reflect. “It is interesting the way you Americans like to use initials to shorten names. JR for Jackie Robinson. Your postal service using OR for Oregon— I believe I just might shorten my name to simply V.” He nodded towards Stephanie. “What do you think my darling?”

  Craig felt his is finger try to pull the gun’s trigger. In his mind he fired once, twice, again, and again, until he emptied the weapon—all hits to Vlad’s heart.

  “Nice shooting, Tex.” Vladimir laughed. “If I had not reached into your consciousness, I would most certainly be a smoldering heap of goo.”

  You motherfuck—

  “And . . . I see that you have some severe mother issues that need working through.”

  Craig wanted to act. Not only could he not move physically, but he couldn’t raise the firewalls in his memory to block Vlad from further hacking into a life best kept away from others, especially himself.

  “Such a horrible thing about your father. Parkinson’s can be devastating to both the victim and his family. Immortals have no disease. Oh! And I see the other friends and co-workers you have lost. The beautiful one, with the red hair, Kathrine. She went down without much of a fight. And then you pulled the trigger. You must hate immortality so much that you were willing to kill your beloved. Her wound was such that she might have turned, not an easy transition without one of us to help her along, but you could have been together forever. Such a strong emotion, hate. A shame.” Vladimir clucked his tongue and shook his head slowly.

  “But I see a new one in your life, red hair as well. You are an easy one to read, Agent Wright, even without probing your mind. I wonder if she has the same thoughts for you? If she were lying here, wounded, would you make the same decision as you did with the others? Put her down like some spent animal, as well?”

  If this were a scene in a bad film, Craig would have been tied to a chair with a gag in his mouth and every time Dr. Evil made a new probing pronouncement he would have wiggled and squirmed and made muffled noises of indignation as he desperately tried to free himself from the bindings. But then this was no movie, and Vlad had an iron grip on Craig; fixing him in place, clamping down on his physical processes. He couldn’t move—couldn’t even yell out damning invectives. All he could do was watch as Vlad manhandled his most private thoughts.

  Steph stroked the back of Vlad’s neck and whispered into his ear.

  “Ah, Agent. It seems that you have another female admirer,” Vladimir said out loud with a smile. “I hope you don’t mind if she isn’t a redhead.”

  Stephanie walked to Craig, slowly, provocatively.

  He was still held immobile by Vlad’s mental grip wanting to move, fight, run! It felt as though his heart was going to beat right out of his chest. His eyes flared wide as she sidled up close to his body.

  Then Stephanie stepped away and gave him a thorough once over like someone inspecting a horse before an auction. Approvingly, she moved back in close to him and nestled her nose into the hollow of his neck where she could feel his veins pumping. She inhaled deeply and licked her lips at the scent of his warm blood.

  “I think she likes you, Agent Wright,” Vladimir observed. “I do believe that she is considering you for an eternity of togetherness. But unfortunately my dear, I have told you this one will have to be destroyed. Do not fret. We will find you another pet. Now finish your dinner.”

  Obediently, Stephanie did as she was told. Seductively she moved her mouth close to Craig’s, her lips hovering near his but not touching. He expected to feel the warmth of her breath, but it was ice cold. Her tongue was like a Popsicle as she brushed it lightly against his lips. Steph looked at Craig, disappointment in her eyes, and smiled revealing her fangs. Then, she summarily opened her mouth, clamping it over his pulsing throat, and drove the sharp points deeply into his artery. Craig felt a rush of pain masked in the feeling of extreme pleasure.

  Stephanie raised her right hand to clear his collar out of the way to allow her lips to get a better lock against his skin, not wanting to let any delicious drop escape. As she did, her fingers touched the silver rosary beads around his neck. Horrified, Stephanie staggered back. Her alarm and violent
reaction caused her fingers to get entangled with the holy necklace, ripping it away from Craig’s bleeding throat. Frantically, she flailed about desperately trying to free herself from the searing effect of the blood-covered silver on the exposed flesh of her hand.

  Surprised by this turn of events, Vladimir let his grip slacken on Craig and turned to help his disciple.

  Upon the loosening of the mental bonds, Craig’s body collapsed onto the dirty floor. With each heartbeat, his life spilled out of him. Death or worse was not far away now. He wanted to grab his .357 and end things, but even though Vlad no longer had a stranglehold on him, his hand would not move. He was spent. His body had no further ability to function, all his energy draining away onto the stained concrete.

  Vladimir easily removed the rosary from Steph’s fingers. He gently brought her blood covered hand up to his mouth and kissed her burned skin. “There now my sweet. All better.” His tone was that of the concerned parent placating a child after a fall “I have told you that these trinkets have no power over me.” Vladimir said holding the rosary in the air. “Say your prayers, Agent.” Then he tossed the silver beads with a sneer towards Craig. He contemptuously spat out the word agent as a mocking exclamation point to a pathetic life bleeding away onto the ground.

  The taste of Craig’s blood on Stephanie’s fingers stirred Vladimir. He rose to his feet with a stern headmaster air. “Now, return to the task you started, finish him and be not wasteful.”

  Gingerly, she crawled to where Craig lay, paying special attention to avoid touching the rosary again. She hesitated before continuing and looked back to Vladimir as though he were asking her to eat a pile of garlic.

  “There is nothing further to fear from that one. Besides, his blood will help your hand heal more quickly. Now drink!”

  The fury in Vladimir’s voice sent her immediately down onto Craig’s neck, at first licking, then lapping up the blood. With a renewed vigor, Stephanie clamped her mouth over the wound and sucked with all her might.

  A sound of bricks being kicked around echoed from the tunnel opening; distracting Stephanie. She looked up from Craig’s bleeding neck and saw Liz standing in the doorway, gun pointing right at her.

  A primal, territorial hiss passed through Stephanie’s red lips warning the interloper that this was her kill.

  ««« ‡ »»» LIZ HAD FIRED the last of the silver-coated rounds into the vamp attacking her with a laptop. Then Naomi, flew at her with a savage fury, fingers extending elaborately painted nails as weapons to rip into Liz’s face. Her baby fangs, barely noticeable, in her open mouth, ready. That there had been no time in her brief life as a vampire for her claws and fangs to have developed was not the issue. The real concern was that even this newly turned female now had the strength of at least two normal humans, which combined with her passionate desire to fight to the death for her master, only served to make her a formidable force that could easily take down the biggest and strongest of agents.

  Before she really had time to think about what to do to stay alive, instinct kicked in, and Liz dropped her useless, empty sidearm. With her right hand, she reached across her chest to her left shoulder, found the handle of the tactical knife strapped to her back and pulled it out of its scabbard. The silver-infused, folded alloy flashed in the lantern light as it was released from its dark confines. The reflection seemed as bright as the sun as it appeared to absorb the lantern light and then throw it back into the eyes of the attacking vampire with an amplified brilliance.

  The bright light blinded Naomi for the briefest of moments sending her a pace or two back towards the chamber wall. Just long enough for Liz to fully swing the blade up in a sweeping arc; giving her arm the maximum thrusting power as she let the tension in her muscles release, like a trebuchet launching its load, bringing it up and then down across the vamp’s neck.

  Naomi’s eyes opened wide with surprise as the razor-sharp edge made its initial slice and, without stopping, continued to cut deeply through her throat. Unheard words gurgled from her lips, but the hatred that Liz saw in her eyes spoke volumes. Then the young vampire’s internal organs began to boil, bloating her body. The steaming force of the internal organs frothing out of the opening of her severed neck was enough to push the head from her shoulders, which would have entirely fallen off if not for the tendons that still connected it to spine. Instead, the remaining tissues served as a hinge allowing the vampire’s seething innards to burble up from her gut and out the throat, making her head bob up and down like a deranged novelty toy.

  Naomi did not, could not, understand that her newly immortal body was in its final death throes—a fact the recruiting posters must have failed to mention. Then Liz saw something new in the dying vamp’s eyes. Naomi was pleading for help as her body ballooned out to the brink of explosion and then, with the release of one final gaseous eruption, imploded and collapsed in a gush syrupy, red steaming liquid. The anguish Liz saw in Naomi’s eyes caught her off guard. For a passing moment, Liz even felt sympathy for Naomi, but was certain that even if she had the power to save the woman, she wouldn’t have—not the person who had killed her friend.

  At some point during her fight with the two vampires, Liz‘s mind had registered Craig entering the room and then running off after Steph as she fled into the maze of dark tunnels. What was he thinking? Hadn’t he been insistent on remaining a team in such situations? She was really going to tell him off when this was all over.

  With no time to appropriately deal with her stained blade, Liz quickly returned the knife to its scabbard, picked up her dropped 9mm, and loaded a fresh magazine of silver death into its handle. The flashlight had been knocked from her hand by the hipster with his laptop, but she quickly found it aimlessly lighting up the brick wall where it had fallen. One last survey of the dead to make sure they weren’t capable of following—as if piles of gelatinous muck could do much of anything—a deep, steadying breath, and then she headed off into the dark tunnel after Craig.

  In the inky blackness, Liz slowly inched her way along the passage; sweeping her light left, then right, keeping her back to the damp brick lining. This was no time to be jumped from behind. But that might have been slightly better than having a vampire master materializing in front of her out of smoke and mirrors. She quickly reached the rough-cut opening into the old cement pipe and had to pause not knowing the direction to go in. She looked left, then right. No signs to indicate the correct way to go, so she swallowed and guessed cautiously proceeding to the left.

  After about three steps she paused to listen. Nothing. Then— Thump. Thump.

  Just traffic noises from the street above so she kept moving.

  Another three steps and another pause. Still no sound. She moved again.

  Bang!—Pause—Bang! Bang!

  Gunfire. But coming from the opposite direction she was moving. Reversing course, Liz moved a bit faster, though still wary of the possibility she could be attacked from almost anywhere, even in the confines of this relatively narrow space.

  Ahead, Liz could read that the cement pipe had not been laid in a straight line, but veered off to the right in a gentle, sweeping arc as well as slanting downward, deeper underground. There was no way to see much ahead, but the gunfire indicated Craig was being assaulted. She picked up her pace and proceeded with less prudence than she should have, recognizing that Master Sergeant Terry would be throwing verbal thunderbolts at her for such erratic behavior.

  One step after the other, Liz progressed around the bend, heart throbbing as she headed into the complete unknown. Then the sweep of her light caught the edge of a break in the pipe’s cement lining; indicating a junction or doorway. The brightness of the LEDs had temporarily interfered with her night vision, so all she could see was a bright, white spot surrounded by darkness. She clicked off the light, closed her eyes, and counted, one one-thousand, two one-thousand, three one-thousand, then opened them and saw the flickering of lanterns outlining the edge of the opening.

  Ra
ising the 9mm, Liz moved towards the light source prepared for an attack. She stumbled over some bricks but recovered as she entered a chamber and saw someone bending over Craig’s prone body. Peripheral vision caught Vlad standing in the background. The person hovering over Craig looked up and let out a primal hiss. It was Steph, blood dripping from her lips.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Liz pulled the trigger and fired it again and again straight into the vampire’s face. The back of her head exploded in a horrid eruption of blood and brains, splattering the nearly dissolved feet of Vlad as he turned himself into hazy black tendrils wisping away from the carnage. Liz swept the room with her UV flashlight looking for signs the errant vampire wasn’t lurking in a corner or tucked up above a sewer pipe. Satisfied for the moment, she turned her attention back to her prone partner, and saw his actual condition for the first time.

  Oh my God!

  His throat was a red mess—carotid artery pumping out blood onto the ground under him. Craig might have been dead already, but when he brought his arm up, placing a hand on the wound, she knew he wasn’t, at least not yet, maybe not die at all. But if he did not die, the fact that his blood had been drawn no matter the degree of severity foretold the unacceptable alternative of his becoming an immortal.

  Her mind quickly took her back to her first day with the CSC. Eugene Evers, lying on the burned-out patch of grass that was a park in Vamp Town, pleading with her to finish the task that a vampire had begun, not sure he was going to die, not wanting to risk becoming a monster himself.

  Liz’s duty was difficult but clear. Whatever the fantasy was of something going on between her and Craig ended when Steph bit into his throat.

  LIZ STOOD PANTING as she watched Steph’s body melt into a festering brew on the floor, out of breath from the exertion of taking out three vampires. Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble, remembering the witch’s chant from Macbeth. She fired another round into the ‘burbling cauldron.’ Bitch! One last ingredient for the crone’s potion; hoping to see a better future for herself beyond the immediate one she already knew about.