by Greco, Karen
I raised my second stake and prepared to strike him through the heart. The creaking hinges of a storm door opening stopped my follow through. The small voice that whimpered "Daddy?" made me drop the stake.
"Hey, kiddo," Jackson said, his breath a little labored. "Go back in the house, pumpkin. I'll be right in."
I glanced over in the direction of the kid. By the dim light over the door, I saw she was wearing feety pajamas decorated with penguins. Her long, tangled brown hair was plastered to her tear-soaked face. She clutched a love-mangled stuffed wolf to her chest.
"Daddy?" she repeated, her eyes leaking tears. I crawled away from her dad, trying to shield his stake-pinned arm as I moved.
"What the hell are you doing, Nina?" Max said as he kept Jackson pinned down like a wrestler.
"Trying to make a scared little girl feel safer," I said, calmly raising my hands in the universal no-weapons-here sign. The child blinked her tears back, and I saw her pupils were going a little yellow.
"Has she turned yet, Jackson?" I asked sharply. She looked too young to handle the shift to wolf form. That usually happened in late puberty. This kid couldn't be more than 6 years old.
"She hasn't done anything wrong," Jackson said defensively.
"That's not what I'm asking. Look at her. Has she turned yet?" I repeated.
He gasped when he looked at his daughter. "No, no, no, no. She can't be turning. She's too young!"
He was right. She was way too young for this.
"Is there a way to stop it?" I asked.
Jackson wasn't processing any of this. He even stopped struggling against Max. He just stared at his little girl, whose eyes fully changed to a brilliant gold. Thankfully, no bones were shifting and breaking. At least not yet.
"Wolfsbane," Casper slipped forward unexpectedly and I winced.
"That will kill her," I said, trying to blink back the small migraine he caused at his quick appearance.
"We can detoxify it, and mix it with ginger," he explained. "It's herbal magic."
"Where the hell are we going to get wolfsbane and ginger? And what the hell is herbal magic?"
I stopped when I noticed the girl was staring at me, wide-eyed.
"Who's the lady talking to, Daddy?" The girl’s sweet voice resonated like a bell.
Frankie chuckled. "Long story."
"Are we doing this or what?" Max asked as he pushed his arm into Jackson's trachea, cutting off his air supply.
The child burst into tears again, her sobs sounding dangerously close to howls. I couldn't tell if Jackson's panicked expression was from the loss of oxygen or his child's transformation.
"Max, stop!" I said, grabbing Max's shoulders from behind. I tried to pull him off the werewolf, but he was dead weight. "Frankie, help me get him off."
Frankie gripped Max and tried to pull him off, but he wouldn't budge. Max's muscles were beginning to swell and the seams of his clothes were straining. Now was not the time for the Berserker to emerge.
"Time to change tactics," Casper's advice echoed in my head. "Get him under control, Nina. You've done it before."
I dropped to the ground and sandwiched myself between Max and Jackson. With my back against Jackson's body, I looked up at Max, his face contorting as he tried to keep his powers under control.
"Max, there is a child here. She's just a kid." My voice was calm and even, but my heart was pounding.
"Monsters," he grunted. "All of them are monsters."
"She's a child, not a monster. She's done nothing wrong. Look at her. She's scared, and you are hurting her daddy. And he's not a monster to her." I grabbed Max's face and forced his head to look towards the trembling little girl. Her eyes were still yellow, but other than that, her humanity was holding steady. "Look at her. She's no monster. She doesn't deserve this."
Max looked back and forth, from me to the girl. His body relaxed, and he slowly lifted his arm off of Jackson's throat. Jackson gasped as air filled his lungs. Only when I slithered out between the two of them did I noticed how close we had been to disaster. Jackson's hands were in the middle of transforming into claws, with patches of wolf hair sprouting along his knuckles.
"We're keeping the stake in," I muttered, brushing dirt off my legs as I stood.
The kid's sobs turned to hiccups. Frankie eyed Jackson warily. "Where's the girl's mum? She here by herself?"
"Her mom's been on a bender. My guess is she's passed out on the couch." His voice was hoarse.
The tyke opened her teary eyes even wider, and her lower lip trembled.
"Fucking werewolves," Frankie said as he raked his fingers through his hair. I couldn't disagree. They were the most intelligent of all supernatural creatures, but depression and addiction laid waste to an astounding number of them.
"Look, Daddy's okay," Jackson soothed the kid. "Go on to bed, and I'll be right there to tuck you in.
She turned and fled back into the house, dragging her stuffed animal behind her.
"What's up with the kid?" I asked as I paced in between Jackson and Max, the air still electric between them. "Why's she turning when she’s so young?"
Jackson shifted his body so he was sitting up, but he tilted to the right, his wrist still pinned by the stake. "This lady turned up, did this to my daughter. Said all I had to do was deliver the blood to the Betas and she would set her right."
"Did you know the blood would kill the vampires?" Max asked. He leaned against the garage and commenced his yogic breathing again.
"No," Jackson choked on the word. "Not at first anyway. But by then it was too late."
"Who was this woman?" Frankie asked.
Jackson ignored him and looked at me. "Can you fix my daughter?"
"I think so," I said. I bit my lower lip nervously, nicking myself. I forgot that I was slightly fanged from all the excitement. I licked the blood from the small puncture as it quickly healed over. "Can we?" I whispered to Casper.
I felt Casper shudder. "Yes, and you just drank your own blood. Nasty."
"You are so squeamish." I crossed my arms and kicked at a snow pile neatly shoveled by the walkway before noticing that Jackson was staring at me again. But this time he was shrinking away. "Sorry. Yes, yes, I can fix her. Medicinal. Magic. Or something."
"So, who was this woman?" Frankie repeated.
"I don't know, exactly. She was wearing a uniform," Jackson said as he settled back onto his elbows. Despite the cold, beads of sweat were running down the sides of his face. "Do you think you can remove the stake? The silver is really starting to get to me."
Max's head shook in an emphatic no, but Frankie shrugged. I doubted that Jackson would pose much of a threat, especially since I could fix his kid. So I squatted down and pulled out the stake.
"You have to give us more than, 'She was wearing a uniform,'" Max said as he paced up and down the driveway. "What kind of uniform? Medical? Police? Waitress?"
Jackson pulled off his scarf and wrapped it around the wound. He'd have to shift later to heal it completely. Werewolves could only heal when they were in werewolf form. "It was military."
Max slammed his fist into the hood of the Suburban. It was so sudden I just about jumped out of my skin. Even Frankie raised his eyebrows. But Jackson remained completely still, stalking Max with his eyes as if he was prey.
"You sure it was military?" I asked, balling my hands into fists so tightly that my nails dug into my palms.
"I think so." Jackson's breathing evened out. "I can take you to her. I have a blood pickup tomorrow, and sometimes she's there."
"Sometimes?" Frankie scoffed.
"Yeah, sometimes. But I haven't seen her in a few pickups, so I expect she'll be there. She likes updates on the death toll."
"Lovely," I quipped.
"We'll be going with you then," Max said. His voice was thick with contempt.
"Sure, but not until my little girl is taken care of. You do that, and I'll take you to her." His voice was thick, guttural.
"Yes, I will take care of your little girl. But we need to pick up some herbs and stuff, and that's back in Providence. It'll take a few hours."
"Come back in the morning," Jackson said. Then he stopped and considered us for a split second, his nose twitching, catching our scent. "Sorry, you can't come out in daylight."
"Oh yes, we can come out in daylight," Frankie said proudly.
"Strange vamps, you are." Using the car as an anchor, Jackson pulled himself to his feet. He leaned against the car, steadying himself. The scarf around his wrist was dark with blood, and it dripped in thin lines down his palm and fingers, splattering on the pavement. He'd need to turn soon, to get that thing healed. The blood loss was clearly going to his head.
"We're Blood Ops. Depending on your point of view, we're either government sanctioned murderers or the saviors of the human and not-so-human race," I said to Jackson as a reminder of who he was dealing with in case he considered double-crossing us. "So, yeah, I'd call us strange."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
We raced back to the log cabin to deal with the sick Betas in the barn. I pressed my right foot into the floorboard of the car, as if I could accelerate the speed from the backseat.
We finally bounced up the winding dirt drive, the high beams illuminating the barn just beyond. Chuck was pacing in front of the doors. Every few steps, he would peer in between the slats of wood, and then he would turn on his heel and pace some more. He barely acknowledged our arrival, only turning to us when we were out of the car.
He gave us a sour look.
"I'm sorry, Chuck. We ran into complications."
That didn't help.
"So did I," he said with his eyes glowing. "They're exploding in there, and I don't know what to do."
"They didn't make it?" Max asked the question that I was too frightened to ask.
"Not all of them, but enough," Chuck said. His hands were trembling as he undid the padlock that chained the barn doors closed. "You have to get in there to fix them, Nina. You just have to."
I pulled two jars of ashes out of the back seat, leaving the third for later, and joined him by the barn door.
"Casper, you ready?" I asked. But before he responded, Frankie nudged me on the arm and pointed up.
"Wait, Chuck." I stopped him before he pulled the chain off the door. "Does that window lead to a loft in the barn?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"Maybe I should enter that way, to get a better vantage point over the Betas. They aren't up top, are they?"
Chuck peeked in between the slats again. "Doesn't look like it. They'd have a tough time getting up there anyway, condition they are in. This disease doesn't help their coordination."
"True," Frankie agreed. "I was a bit unsteady."
"That's our way in then," I said, tucking the jars firmly under my arm and readying for the jump.
"You sure you got this?" Max asked, stopping me just as I was about to spring up.
"I have to. What choice do we have?"
He gave me a half-smile, which I returned. Then I squatted down, tensed my leg muscles, and pushed off the solid ground, clearing the 20 or so feet to the ledge of the window. I almost lost my footing, catching hold of the window casing to steady myself. Once I wasn't in danger of dropping back to the ground, I kicked out the boarded-up window and stepped carefully into the loft.
The pungent barn smelled of old, wet hay and manure mixed with the copper smell of fresh blood. My stomach rolled at the commingling of odors. I moved my right foot forward, pressing carefully on the wood, checking for weak spots. The old floorboards creaked and snapped as I inched my way towards the edge. When I finally made it, I dropped to my stomach, carefully placing the jars of ash next to me. I peeked over the edge and surveyed the scene below.
The top special effects gurus on Hollywood horror films couldn't come close to imagining the carnage.
One quarter of the Beta-Vamps were gone. The ones that were still alive were covered in dark blood spatter, the only remnants of those who perished. The remaining Betas were nearly silent, hiding in corners and slumped against the walls, sick and exhausted. Every once in a while, a large, gasping sob or low moan interrupted their sniffling.
"Dammit," I whispered. "I should have stayed here."
These vamps were clearly suffering, and I was off chasing after a stupid werewolf. Did it really matter where the shit blood came from?
"Max damn near lost it with the werewolf, and Frankie's still not 100 percent. It was good you were there," Casper responded. "You can't do it all, woman."
"No, but we're here now, so let's get this done. Fingers crossed we can pull this off."
I rearranged myself so I was sitting cross-legged at the edge of the loft. I clutched jars of ash in my lap.
"We got this," Casper said, his voice brimmed with bravado. I hoped his confidence was infectious.
I closed my eyes and let Casper take over. "Let's do it."
A mix of Latin and Spanish spilled out. It was my voice, but I wasn't completely sure of the meanings. I focused my energy towards healing the sick vampires below me. The healing energy looked like a ball of yellow-white light, like a bright burning star, in my mind's eye. The words turned almost to song, my voice ringing clearly and mellifluously. It always sounded much more beautiful with Casper at the helm. The kid was a damn gifted witch.
His sharp "Now!" shocked me out of my trance. My eyes snapped open and I lifted both glass jars above my head and aimed directly below me, which was about the center of the barn. With a sharp throw downward, the jars hurled to the floor, shattering into pieces, ash spraying out to all sides.
I hugged the solid beam beside me, closed my eyes again and willed the air around me to spin. Muttering in Latin and stumbling over the words, my voice wasn't half as beautiful as when Casper formed the words. My hair started whipping around my face as the force of the winds accelerated. The confined space of the barn was helping the air velocity. The gales, having nowhere else to go, bounced off the walls.
The wind I conjured howled. Choking a bit from the thick ash in the air, I opened my eyes to a squint. I could barely see below me, but thought I saw the vampires dropping to the ground.
"I think it's working!" I called out to Casper over the wind, even though he could probably hear me just fine. "Can you shoot down and check?"
Casper popped out of my body, leaving me feeling slightly cold and pretty unsteady. I was still hugging the wood beam and relaxed my arms a bit as the wind slowed from a hurricane force to a strong breeze.
"Hell to the yeah, we did it!" Casper cheered.
I almost fell out of the hayloft at the sudden appearance of an exuberant ghost jumping into my body.
"God, Casper, ease into it. You can't jump in and out of my head while screaming. Not cool."
"Girl, it's like you need your coffee or something," he admonished. "We just cured an incurable vamp disease. I think screaming is in order. And dancing!"
Before I could put up my ghost defenses, Casper took over my body and I was on my feet, doing the robot in a hayloft. He was also singing at the top of his lungs. However, I was the one making the racket.
As I tried to wrestle control of my body back from party-down-Casper, Chuck, Frankie and Max heard the commotion in the barn. Casper had me mid-butt shake, singing "Don't 'cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me..." when they stormed the front doors. The three men stared up at me, slack-jawed. Casper and I came to a dead stop.
Frankie broke the silence with a burst of laughter. "Is this really the best time for a knees-up, Nina?" he wheezed out through his chuckles.
"Damn Casper," I grumbled, wiping dust and grey ash off my slacks just to give myself something to do besides look embarrassed.
"Stop blaming everything on the ghost," Frankie snickered.
Casper laughed too. "Shut up," I grumbled. "Both of you."
Chuck stooped over a group of sleeping Betas. "Are they okay?"
Max nudged one gently. "Seems f
ine. Remember, Frankie was passed out for a while before he came to."
Chuck kneeled down and cradled a middle-aged woman in his lap. "Thank you." He sniffled, his eyes red and watery.
"That your wife?" Max asked quietly.
"I didn't think she made it." He buried his face into her hair, his body shaking with silent sobs.
I shifted my weight from foot to foot. Witnessing this very intimate moment made me more uncomfortable than being caught doing the butt.
"Jeez, woman," Casper admonished. "A little tenderness, someone showing a little love, and you get all squirmy and weird."
"Maybe we should clear everyone out," I said, ignoring Casper and pointing at the door, where the healthy Betas were crowding, looking at the remains. "I'm not sure if the spelled ash neutralizes the blood. I don't know if they are safe in here."
I aimed for the least bloodied area of the barn and jumped from the hayloft, landing lightly on my feet.
Chuck raised his head and looked around the barn. "How do we clean this up, then?"
I smiled. "Max can call The Cleaner."
Chuck looked confused. "The Cleaner?"
"Don't worry about it," Max pulled out his cell phone. "We'll take care of the mess."
Chuck's face was still screwed up with worry. "What about the others, the ones that aren't sick. You can't dose them in here."
"I'll do it in the tents. It's not like there were a whole lot left healthy."
Chuck looked down at the ground. "How did some of us not get sick?" He asked quietly.
"I wish I knew." I replied, looking at Frankie to answer.
"Maybe some of you have a natural immunity. Or maybe not all the bags were tampered with," Frankie explained. "Honestly, we may never know."
"Chuck, I hate to bring this up now but we need to find you guys a new camp," I said gently.
"You're on private property owned by a werewolf pack," Frankie clarified. "They aren't happy you guys are squatting."
"They did all this just because we were camping out here?" Chuck asked incredulously. "Damn those werewolves. They travel in packs but have no sense of community."