by Greco, Karen
I turned my back on Max and slipped out of the pew. I took off down the aisle, chasing...chasing what? I wasn't chasing. I was running.
I stopped when I hit the front of the altar, its majesty dwarfed by the vaulted ceiling covered in beautiful stained glass. The cross with the body of Jesus nailed to it hovered above me, as though suspended alone in the air. Blood dripped from the head wounds where a crown of thorns dug into his skull. The imagery was gruesome. I sat on the first step leading up to the altar, and dropped my head in my hands.
Max came down the aisle and planted himself beside me. He rubbed my neck gently. "Hey, you okay?"
"I just...yes," I sighed, feeling the knots smooth out a little at his touch. "It's just the first time...I don't have..."
Max stopped rubbing and draped his arm loosely around my shoulders. "You're without your backup. Trust me. I get it."
"You know the first bust I made without backup?" he continued. "I was bringing in my own parents."
I dropped my hands and looked at him. "What?"
He nodded and a small sad smile tugged at his lips. "They had their neo-Nazi goons stationed in front of this warehouse. They were packing Uzis. The submachine guns aren't exactly the most accurate shot. My partner..." He paused. "My partner trusted the weapons' inaccuracy more than their deadliness and assumed the lug heads didn't really know how to use them. Instead of being cautious, she rushed. She underestimated the ability of ignorant rednecks to train hard and train smart."
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I would probably have assumed the same thing."
"Yeah, but you can afford to underestimate sometimes. You can heal." He moved his arm off my shoulders, cleared his throat and continued. "Neo-Nazis are almost like military. They go off into the woods and go through hardcore training. Weapons, hand-to-hand combat. They are put into extreme situations and taught to survive."
He stopped and took a breath. "Anyway. She was down, and I had to go in on my own. Backup was on the way, but I had to face down my parents, without Jess. My first mission without my partner was probably the worst possible mission I had to face."
"I can't even imagine," I said as I glanced at him. "And I don't know what to say."
He shook his head. "The point is, this is what you've trained for. With or without your partner, with or without your backup. With or without Dr. O. Or Babe. This is who you are. You got this."
I smiled at him and nodded.
"Besides, I have your back," he reminded me. "You won't be alone out there."
Father Dougherty hurried out of the anteroom wrapped in a black wool coat, a huge cross hanging down his chest. He clutched a small, black, leather-bound Bible and a bottle of Holy Water in the other.
He pointed to the Holy Water urn. "Do you need to fill up?"
"Do you have a bottle I can use?" I asked. "We weren't expecting vampires tonight. Or demons."
"Father Pete, could you bring a spare bottle of Holy Water?" the priest called back to the curate, still in the anteroom. "Going forward, Nina, you need to be prepared for anything. You may not have noticed, but things are...changing."
Father Dougherty looked up at the stained glass ceiling, as though he could see through it to some master plan concocted by entities bigger than all of us.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
We didn't approach the demon horde with much caution. In fact, when Father Dougherty took the lead in his little red Honda Accord, caution was thrown to the wind.
The priest drove his car right to the very perimeter of the demons, blasting Gregorian chants from his car's sound system. The demons moaned and covered their ears as he made a huge circle — the span of several blocks — around them. He was herding them tighter and tighter together.
Max and I were following on the Triumph. I dug my nails into his side at every turn he took. He wasn't used to riding a motorcycle, so his turns were wobbly. I leaned my weight into the curve, trying to correct it. But if I overcorrected, we were going down.
Not that hitting the pavement would hurt much. Max drove like a damn Granny. But as we rounded up more and more demons, I really didn't want to go down with them in such close proximity.
The chants echoed down the empty city streets as we corralled this giant demon vortex around Roger Williams National Memorial Park, which was nestled at the base of College Hill. The demons filled the narrow parkland, spilling out onto South Main Street, which ran parallel to the river. Father Dougherty parked his car at the foot of the park. An eerie silence blanketed the city when he cut the engine and the chants stopped abruptly. He and Father Pete exited the car, causing the demon mass to surge at them. Father Dougherty raised his rosary and did the sign of the cross. The demons recoiled, hissing and spitting as they scurried away from the offending symbols.
Aided by his younger cohort, the elderly priest stepped onto the hood of his car and did the sign of the cross again. Then he shook Holy Water out of the bottle and blessed the crowd. A chorus of blood curdling screams rose up, drowning out the first few lines of the Lord's Prayer.
Max and I were on the bike, idling several feet behind them. My stomach roiled. Even though Max was like Driving Miss Daisy, I had motion sickness the entire ride. I pulled off my helmet, hoping to quell the nausea. Instead, a sharp pain seared through my stomach. I stumbled off the bike, only making it a few feet before I hurled. The vomit hit the pavement and bits splashed up onto my shoes. It was blood, viscous and rancid.
"You okay?" Max stage whispered, not wanting to attract unwanted demonic attention. But they were too busy trying to stay in their human vessels to notice us.
"Just...watch...my back," I choked out and then gagged as more blood came up. I dropped to my knees, clutching my stomach, my breath shallow. As quickly as it came on, the nausea disappeared. But then I was suddenly filled with an inexplicable rage.
My fangs broke through my gums instantly. Scanning the crowd of half-exorcised demons, I eyed my target. A single man broke from the others and he was moving directly towards Max, whose back was turned. Max was too wrapped up in keeping an eye on me that he didn't hear him coming.
From my kneeling position, I jumped to my feet and sprinted towards Max, who was still straddling the Triumph.
"What are you doing?" he yelled at me, just as my fist came forward, colliding with the demon's head that popped up by Max's shoulder.
With my vampire speed on high, I leapfrogged over the bike and tackled the demon, who was still seeing stars from the connection of my fist with his face. We tumbled to the pavement. He got in a solid punch to my right cheek. The crunch told me he shattered the bone. The initial pain was intense but it quickly dulled to an annoying ache. Recovered, I grabbed the demon’s collar and rolled until I was upright. Holding him down with my knees on his chest, I punched him in the face repeatedly, becoming more euphoric every time my fist made contact with his face.
"Nina? Nina? What the hell are you doing?" Max came from behind and bear hugged me, pinning my arms to my sides. As I tried to wrench my arms free, I looked at the demon pinned under my knees. With his face bloody and swollen, he was completely unrecognizable. His eyes were sealed closed from the swelling and his breath was raspy.
My own knuckles were raw from the repeated hits. I relaxed into Max, my rage subsiding.
"What the hell are you doing?" Max repeated.
"Frankie," I wheezed out, still in a bit of shock. "That was the binding."
I had never felt Frankie so intensely that I acted on his emotions, but there it was. This was no joke. If it was able to alter my mind like that, I could only imagine what it was doing to Frankie's head. Implosion was probably a relief.
Max let me go, and I rolled off the beaten demon and sat on the sidewalk, collecting myself as the adrenaline drained out of me. A number of demon shrieks pierced the air as Father Dougherty progressed with the mass exorcism. Even my knocked-out demon twitched as the possessing demon fought to stay in its battered host.
"If Frankie can't
keep the block up, he's weakening." I gingerly touched my sore cheek, wincing as the bone fragments rubbed against each other as they rebuilt. "The good news is he's blocked me again. But I don't think we have much time left."
"Could you sense where he was?" Max asked.
"Doesn't work like that." I sighed, wishing it did right about now.
"What about the chip?" Max asked.
Adrenaline poured back into me, leaving me lightheaded. "What the hell do you know about the chip?"
Max shrugged. "The priest asked me about it when we were leaving the church. Wondered why we weren't able to find Frankie with the microchip."
I took a deep, shaky breath, hoping that Mister by the Books would understand.
"Okay, Max. About two years ago, it became part of the Blood Ops mandate. All Blood Ops members were microchipped. The Defense Department claimed it was so they could find and extract us if we were ever taken hostage. Frankie and I didn't quite buy that. We suspected that it was really their way of keeping tabs on us. So we unchipped ourselves. Since we healed fast, the DoD was none the wiser. We carried the chips with us for a while, in case they were monitoring. But as soon as we realized that we weren't under constant surveillance, we became a lot more cavalier about it. I think my chip is still packed in a moving box."
"You know, Nina," Max said, his voice measured, "maybe they were looking out for your safety."
"In case you haven't noticed, we aren't normal, Max. We are very, very dangerous. We are weapons with no off switch. They aren't worried about our safety. They want to keep tabs on us. I stand by what we did, and I would do it again. Even if it costs us Frankie."
Max’s face was filled with disapproval.
"And if they ever find out about you, they'll chip you too," I added. "Are you going to tell me you're okay with that?"
Before he could respond, another surge of Frankie's anger overtook me. I braced myself before it could swallow me whole again, and focused. I had no idea if this was going to work, but Frankie and I had some sort of telepathic connection and, dammit, I needed a psychic GPS to get to him.
"Come on, Frankie," I muttered, moving away from the noise of the exorcism. "Show me where you are."
I ran across the road and started to climb one of the tiny cobblestone side streets that traveled up College Hill.
"Where the hell are you going, Nina?" Max yelled after me. He was fumbling with the motorcycle, unsure if he should kill the engine and follow me on foot.
"Stay there," I yelled at Max before refocusing on Frankie. I knew what I needed to do, and it wasn't going to come easy. "Come on out, Frankie. Come on."
I felt another surge from him. This time, it was rage mixed with fear and regret. Taking a deep breath, I dropped my inhibitions and released myself into his emotions.
Or I tried to. As soon as I felt myself slipping into Frankie's head, I yanked myself back, unable to truly let go. But as I extracted myself out from his mind, I heard the cries of a very frightened man. Frankie? No, that wasn't Frankie. I had a fast flash of a petrified stranger tied to a crumbling cement pillar.
My eyes snapped open, terminating the vision. But the screams still hung in the air. It was faint and easy to miss under the demon shrieks. This fear was clearly human.
I stumbled back to Max and the bike, my eyesight still wonky from seeing through Frankie's eyes. "I know where he is! He's not far. But we gotta get there fast! He's doing something he will definitely regret."
Max glanced at Father Dougherty. "What about him?"
The majority of the demons were moaning and writhing on the ground. Father Dougherty was squirting Holy Water and prayers out in rapid succession. Even Father Pete had found his nerve and was moving through the crowd, touching his cross to foreheads, expelling demons as he went along. A horrible stench, like rotting garbage, was thick in the air. The exorcism was working.
"I think they've got this," I said with a smile. My cheekbone cracked, the bones splitting again with the movement of the grin, but I didn't care. We had Frankie. Now it was time to try to fix him. I patted my pocket, making sure the pill bottle that carried the potion was still there. Maybe Casper and I had come up with the cure. For the first time in ages, I felt hope.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
With a mob of demonic delinquents tearing up downtown, the population of Providence kept to their homes, making the short ride to the tunnel even faster than usual — probably because I was riding, finally. It was worth the short argument. Apart from my eyes being a little light sensitive, I could see okay. And since we were the only ones on the road, there were no opposing headlights to throw off that halo effect anyway. Besides, I promised to be careful.
I welcomed the familiar feel of the handlebars in my grip, feeling almost buoyant. I knew where Frankie was holed up, I had my bike back and everything was going to be okay. Babe and Dr. O would turn up soon too, I was sure of it. We were almost back to normal.
My optimism sank when we entered the subterranean tunnel. The tunnel entrance was long cemented over, and I squeezed through a narrow opening where the cement was smashed through and crumbling. It was a tight fit, and I wasn't sure Max would be able to get through. But he emerged covered in white dust. If he Berserked in here, he'd have to Hulk-smash his way out.
Water dripped steadily from the roof into puddles throughout the long narrow space. The old tracks were rusted out and the old wooden ties were lifting, making the way forward treacherous.
My eyes adjusted quickly to the darkness, but Max needed his mag light to make his way through. I blinked a few times when the bright flashlight flickered on. With the glow from the light, I could make out the bright colored graffiti that covered every inch of the walls. I stopped for a moment to admire some of the more accomplished work. The proximity to RISD brought this graffiti to a whole new level.
Soot puffed up from the gravel that crunched under our feet, Max and his mag light in the lead. But I was close on his heels. If Frankie went on the attack, Max would have no chance.
The tunnel was straight as a pin. It didn't veer left or right, not even an inch, so our pace was careful but steady. I wrinkled my nose. The further we moved into the tunnel, the funkier it smelled, a mix of mildew and rotting corpses.
"I hope that stink is a dead rat," Max muttered. Good to know it wasn't just me in olfactory overdrive. But since he could smell it too, I'd bet the source was something larger than a rat.
We moved forward, splashing through puddles that got deeper as we pushed on. "How far do you think this tunnel goes?" Max asked.
"No idea," I said as my right foot dropped into a water-filled hole. Ice cold, filthy water soaked my leg almost to my knee. I shuddered with a mix of cold and disgust.
"Maybe he's not here." Max slowed his pace, almost stopping.
"No, he's here," I insisted. "I saw him."
"Maybe he left already." Max was now at a dead stop, training the flashlight down the sides of the tunnel. He turned around, checking the area we just walked down. "What the hell?"
The light hit something large and slightly rounded, like a person slumped over.
"Frankie?" I questioned.
We both moved quickly towards what appeared to be a body. As we got closer, I saw that the lump had on a dark green puffy parka. When Max was in reach, he carefully pushed the guy up by his shoulder. Dark blood, still slick, covered the front of his coat. His throat was completely missing, ripped out.
"Holy shit," Max exclaimed.
It was the guy I saw Frankie attack in my vision.
I felt lightheaded. "Oh, this isn't good."
"You think?" Max asked incredulously.
"What the hell do we do?"
"You're asking me?" Max let go of the guy's shoulder, and he slumped back over. "What do you normally do when you kill a human?"
"We don't kill humans." I said, trying to focus on getting enough air so I didn't pass out.
"No?" Max motioned to the dead body on the side of the
tracks.
"This was a mistake. An accident." I corrected myself. This would have never happened if Frankie was in his right mind.
"Shit," Max repeated. "Okay, let's get the body out of here."
I chewed on my lower lip. "Why don't we just leave it?"
Max shined the flashlight at me. "Leave it? Are you serious?"
I nodded. "Let someone else find the body. How do we explain what we're doing in here?"
Max turned back to the dead guy. "What the hell did I get myself into?"
Before I could answer, something dropped from above us, and I was face down in the grime of the tracks. Max's mag light was knocked away in the fall, and we were plunged into darkness. I sprang back to my feet quickly, too vulnerable on the ground. Spitting soot out of my mouth, I turned slowly while my eyes adjusted.
"Max?" His name came out in a hoarse whisper, so I cleared my throat and tried again. "Max!"
"Right here." His voice was strained.
I turned in the direction of his voice and saw Frankie standing with his foot on Max's neck. His vamped out eyes were glowing, casting a blue hue over him and Max.
"Frankie!" I held up my hands to show him I was weapon free. "It's just me. And Max. We're here to fix you."
Frankie snarled at me. Great.
Max twitched a little on the ground. The last thing we needed was him Berserking. "Max, you doing okay?"
"Just perfect," he said, his voice still struggling under the weight of Frankie's foot.
"Remember your breathing exercises," I said, edging slowly along the wall of the tunnel towards them. "Just keep it all together, and we'll get out of this just fine."
He choked on the foul dirt as Frankie dug his heel harder into Max's neck. That was going to leave a bruise.
"Come on, Frankie," I said. "Get your foot off Max and let's figure this out."
Instead of removing his boot and discussing the situation like adults, Frankie dropped to his knees, straddling Max. He yanked Max's head back by his hair, exposing his throat.