"So," he said, handing her the remote control. "How many enemies do you have at school?"
She curled her legs up on the couch and covered herself with a blanket. There was anger behind her eyes.
"Let me guess. Jones? McGillicuty?"
"Jones."
"That stupid bitch."
Jack smiled. Erica was just as direct as he was.
"I’ve been teaching there a few years now," she said. "And some of the teachers still think I’m a crazy club-hopping bar-child. One night, one accident, and it'll follow me around the rest of my life. Some of the parents have their children pulled from my class. I hate this scar."
"We’ve all got scars. You just happen to have one on your face."
"I tried to grow my hair long once, but the scar’s too far up to really cover."
"Don’t do that. Your hair and scar…sexy."
She studied him. "You’re serious, aren’t you? Every time at tutoring you've got some line ready. But you’re not just making up lines, trying to see my amazing legs?"
"The one thing you should have learned about me by now is that I don’t make up lines. I don’t lie. The last thing I want is bedtime with Tiffany’s teacher. But yes, you’re beautiful." He narrowed his eyes at her. "And I find it hard to believe I’m the only person who’s told you this."
"You’re the only person I believe."
They smiled at each other and watched TV in comfortable silence. He fetched her a few things from the kitchen. A glass of orange juice, and then a bowl of oatmeal. She was appreciative and looked at Jack with affection in her eyes, a look that was new to him.
He smiled when she settled on the AMC Channel, his favorite. They were halfway through a John Wayne movie when he turned to talk to her. Erica was fast asleep, her head leaning back on the couch. Drool ran from her mouth and dripped down her chin onto her shirt. She let out a noise that took him a moment to recognize as snoring.
Jack watched her engage in an activity that he hadn't experienced in two centuries. A mix of emotions attacked him. Jealousy, bitterness, anger. But a few surfaced he didn't expect. Amusement, peace. Erica was attractive, even when drooling all over herself.
He realized he was getting soft, a far cry from the person he was only a year ago. There were two more people in his life he liked now, and had reconciled with a vampire he thought of as family.
He lifted the blanket and tucked it in around her. She let out a contented sigh and shifted her head. Being as quiet as he could, he left her to rest, locking the door behind him.
*****
Instead of driving home, Jack headed toward the convenience store. It had been a few days since he saw Mr. Soon and his wife. The couple was probably singing and dancing in between customers. He wouldn't put it past them to sing and dance in front of the customers. Jack didn't care, as long as Soon still put together those killer sandwiches.
His irritation grew when he saw four police cars parked in front of the store. Soon had a bad habit of forgetting to activate the alarm. The store had been broken into several times over the years.
"Dammit, Soon," Jack muttered as he pulled into the lot. "It's four numbers. How hard can it be?"
A police officer approached Jack as he killed the engine.
"I'm sorry, sir, but you can't-"
"This is my store," he interrupted. "I own it. What happened, another damn robbery? Did Soon forget to turn on the alarm again? The short little bastard."
The officer said nothing, only gesturing with his head for Jack to follow. They walked up to the door, but the officer held out his hand. Jack looked over the officer's shoulder to see other police moving about the store, taking pictures and talking in hushed tones amongst themselves.
It wasn't just a robbery.
Another officer left the store, and the two talked. Jack didn't hear a word they said. His eyes were fixed on what looked like a pool of blood near the cash register.
"Sir," the officer in charge said again. "You work here? You're the owner?"
"Yes," Jack said, coming to his senses. "This is my store."
"I see cameras in the corners. You know how we can look at them?"
He nodded. "There's a computer in the back."
Jack walked with the officer through the store, keeping to the outside of the aisles. There were no signs of Soon and his wife, only the pool of blood and a small trail leading away from it. He led the officer to the back office next to the bathroom and sat in front of the computer.
The cameras recorded continuously, writing to a DVD at scheduled times. Before the officer could get settled Jack quickly slipped last night's DVD in his pocket. They could still watch the recorded video from the hard drive.
He had a choice of three cameras, but picked the one pointing at the register. The night was mundane for the most part. Customers came and went, and Jack's lip twitched when Soon turned on his radio and danced with his wife. He slowed the video down at that point, wanting to watch them.
"What are they doing?" the officer asked.
"Dancing. Don't you ever dance with your wife?"
Jack's heart ached as they danced, a feeling he hated. Even though the camera resolution wasn't the best quality, he could still see the smile on Soon's face, and his wife laughing.
He fast-forwarded the video another hour, and saw a man in a dark hooded-shirt enter the store. Mrs. Soon was behind the register. Mr. Soon was three aisles away, near the milk, sweeping the floor. The man pointed a gun at Mrs. Soon. As she dug through the register Mr. Soon ran in from the right, holding the broom over his head. The man turned and fired two times, hitting Mr. Soon in the stomach and chest. Mrs. Soon leaned over the counter, only to be shot once in the chest.
The man reached over the counter and grabbed what he could from the register. He shoved money in his pockets and walked out, careful to step over the pool of blood spreading from Mr. Soon.
Jack was ready to leave the room when he saw another flash of movement.
It was Mrs. Soon. She crawled from around the counter, moving so slowly, trying to reach her husband. She reached out and grabbed his hand, and his head moved slightly. Jack could see they were talking to each other.
He would have given anything to know what they said.
Mr. Soon stopped moving first. His wife was only a few seconds behind, her head resting on his shoulder, holding each other's hands.
He sped through the rest of the video, but they didn't move again. A customer came in at seven in the morning and ran from the store, presumably to call the police.
"Thank you," the officer said quietly. "I'm sure you're gonna have to give a statement, maybe come to the station later."
Jack said nothing. The officer walked him to his car and took his contact information. He offered his condolences before going back to the store.
Five minutes later Jack was pacing next to his truck outside the mall across from the convenience store. He thought he felt nothing at first, and was comfortable with that. But rage crept in with sadness. He couldn't get the image of Soon and his wife dancing out of his mind.
"What were you thinking, you fucking idiot," he said. "You were gonna take on an armed robber with a broom? You fool."
He continued pacing as emotions kept attacking. He was furious at Soon. He was furious at himself for being furious. He didn't process pain like mortals, but his heart ached. Tears nearly escaped his eyes when he thought of them holding hands as they died.
His thoughts went to their murderer.
He pulled his fist back and slammed it through the driver's side window. His hand was chewed up only for a moment before the cuts healed, leaving nothing but a little blood and shattered glass on the seat. He cherished that pain and wished he could feel more. Real physical pain would push out the intense emotions he was feeling.
Jack thought back to something Victoria told him.
You have a problem, and the killing starts.
That sounded like a good idea.
**
***
Jack walked into Best Buy and immediately scanned for the Geek Squad. He saw their familiar orange uniforms near the back. There was no line, thankfully, as he knew he'd anger everyone by ignoring all of them.
A young man, fresh out of high school, greeted him at the counter. Jack knew he was in a dangerously bad mood as his blood boiled just looking at the teenager. Curly red hair, scruffy beard, wrinkled uniform. His name-tag identified him as Brian.
"Can I help you?"
Jack produced the DVD from his pocket.
"I need to print off some images."
Brian wrinkled his nose and scoffed in disgust. "Does this look like a Kinkos?"
His first instinct was to kill the young man, but he pushed it aside. Instead he produced a one hundred-dollar bill.
"Now that you mention it..."
Brian's eyes lit up as he smiled. "Welcome to Kinkos, sir."
Jack followed the Geek back into their work area, full of half-functioning computers and monitors. There was only one other employee working with an iPod and computer. Brian led him to the workstation at the far end of the bench.
"Okay, so what do we got here?" Brian said, cracking his knuckles. "Anything juicy? Got some wife-on-wife action on this thing?"
Jack shoved another hundred-dollar bill in the pocket of his shirt.
"That's extra, just to get the smile off your face. Shut up, and get to work."
"You got it. But I really do need to know. I mean...what kind of files am I working with here?"
"It's security footage."
"Ah, then I'm guessing propriety software."
"I'll call the vendor."
It took nearly an hour of calling different people and handing the phone over to Brian before they had any success. The end result was Brian launching software he'd downloaded and pulling up the video from the convenience store.
Brian's good mood disappeared as they watched the murder.
"Are you kidding me? What is this?"
"Play it again."
Jack watched the video once more, absorbing every detail about the murderer. Caucasian, left handed, slight limp with his right leg, a piercing in his lip.
"Okay, I'm done," Brian said. "I'm not watching that again."
Jack gripped his shoulder and set him back down. "You'll play it as many times as I say. Rewind it and start again from when he first walks in the store."
He stored away more details. A thin mustache, a stretched piercing in the left ear, a small tattoo on his forearm.
"Print out a few stills. Right when he's leaving he looks up at the camera for just a moment. You can see his piercings and tattoo. Print that."
"Shit, man, who are you? CSI?"
The printer at the opposite end of the bench spat out paper. Brian retrieved them before his colleague. Jack took the papers, as well as his DVD, and slid another hundred-dollar bill into Brian's shirt.
"Pleasure working with you."
Jack drove deeper into Parkville, staring at the printed photos at every red light. He parked across the street from Jerry Turnball's pool hall. Taking a moment to simply observe the place, he watched a young couple holding hands go inside, laughing and talking. As he climbed out of his truck Jerry's henchman tossed someone out. They exchanged words before the tossed man sulked away.
If anyone had the connections to help Jack find the subject in the photos, it was Jerry.
"Hold on there, Slim," the henchman said, holding out his hand. He lowered it as recognition flashed across his face. "Oh, it's you."
"Is Jerry in?"
The henchman stepped aside to let Jack pass. It was another typical day at Jerry's pool hall. The young couple who just walked in were buying something white out of a plastic bag from a man behind the counter. Two larger men played pool by themselves in the far corner. Two women in tight half-tops and jean shorts enjoyed a game of nine-ball on the table closest to Jerry as a woman ground his hips on his lap.
"My favorite client!" Jerry called when he saw Jack. Jack nearly winced at the accent. "Where's your young friend? I'm sure Randy here would like another shot at losing again."
Jack turned and looked at Randy the henchman, who followed closely behind. The large man didn't look like a Randy.
"She couldn't make it today, I'm afraid. I need some information."
"Jack, I like you. But information isn't cheap-"
He fanned five hundred-dollar bills and set them on the Cinemax-rated pool table. Jerry's female companions stopped their game to study Jack. Randy grabbed the money and looked it over, giving Jerry a nod.
"Is that a start?" Jack asked.
"A nice start, yes. Tell me, what is it you need to know?"
He pulled out the photos Brian printed and handed them over. Jerry smiled at first as he flipped through them. His smile faded and a look of concern settled in his eyes.
Jerry crumpled the photos and shoved them in Jack's chest.
"I want you to leave now," he said, his accent wavering slightly.
"Wait, you know him?" Jack asked, letting the photos fall to the floor.
"Did you not hear me? I said I want you to leave, right now!"
Jerry reached for a cell phone on the table next to his seat. Jack took a step forward.
"I'm not leaving here until I get a name."
He heard a click and saw a flash of movement to his right. Jack froze and stared at Randy, who pointed a gun at him. The women slowly backed up until they were at another table. The men near the front gripped their cues. All eyes were on them.
"The man told you to leave," Randy said. "So, leave."
"Jerry, give me a name, and I'm gone. If not-"
"Who the fuck do you think you're talking to?" Jerry shouted. "You don't think I know all about you, Mister Millionaire? I never go into business with a stranger. I know all about you. You sit in an office all day. So drop the tough guy act."
"We know where you live," Randy said, still pointing his gun. "We know where that little girl goes to school-"
Jack turned and marched toward Randy. He didn't run, didn't lunge. He didn't need to. Randy didn't choose his words carefully, and for that, he would die.
Randy flinched and fired twice. The first shot caught Jack in the throat, the second in the shoulder. The bullets struck his skin and fell to the ground, bouncing and rolling under the nearby pool table. The women shouted and ran, heading straight for the door.
Jack tackled Randy around the waist and took him to the ground. The henchman fired a few more wild shots, only one of which found a target, bouncing off of Jack's stomach. Randy was stronger and bigger, but he was dealing with a man who didn't feel pain, didn't get tired. He struck Jack in the jaw several times and whipped him with his gun. Jack didn't flinch, and pummeled the man with barely-controlled rage. He broke Randy's nose, a few ribs, shattered an eye socket. As the fight left Randy's body, Jack pulled him into a sitting position and circled behind him, wrapping an arm around his throat. The henchman struggled for a moment and kicked with his legs, but it was futile.
"Shh," Jack whispered. "It'll all be over soon."
He looked up to see Jerry holding a gun of his own, pointing it at Jack. The women were all gone, as well as the man behind the register. Only Jerry and the two men near the front remained. The two men obviously worked for him.
"Let him go," Jerry said. "Or I'll put a bullet between your eyes."
Jack smiled. He had no intention of letting Randy go until he was dead.
The gesture panicked Jerry, who fired. Jack laughed as the bullet struck his cheek and fell to the floor next to him.
"Ten feet away, and you're a terrible shot."
"What the fuck?!" Jerry shouted, and nodded at his last two henchmen.
One of them ran up and swung his pool cue. It snapped across Jack's head, the broken piece flying across the room. The henchman took a step back and was noticeably disturbed at the smile Jack flashed him.
"Guns don't work, so maybe a piece of w
ood will? Is that the logic here?"
The second henchman grabbed a chair and lifted it over his head. Randy had stopped struggling in Jack's grip. He could feel the life leave Randy's body.
Jack sprung to his feet and kicked the chairman in the stomach, forcing him to drop the chair to the ground. The henchman threw a wild punch that Jack easily ducked. He wasn’t any faster than a mortal, but they were so easy to read, especially when they were angry. A twitch of the shoulder here, a flinch of the leg there. He dodged another punch and kick until the man with the broken pool cue decided to get involved. The man thrust the broken wood out like it was a knife. Jack easily spun it out of his grasp and shoved it into his ally’s throat.
Everything slowed down after that. Jerry was diving for his phone once again, while the final henchman watched his friend die in disbelief. Jack ripped the cue from the man’s throat. Blood poured out of his wound as he fell face first to the ground.
The henchman backed up a step and put his hands in the air.
"Look, man, there’s gotta be something we can work out-"
Jack interrupted by shoving the broken cue into his eye.
Jerry ran for the front door. Jack picked up one of a few loose guns and shot him in the leg. Jerry cried out and collapsed between two pool tables.
Jack admired the gun a moment as he approached the begging man.
"I’m not much for gun play. I’m surprised I’ve still got good aim."
Jerry slowly pulled himself along the floor. He glanced over his shoulder and begged. Jack gripped the side of a pool table and flipped it onto him. He screamed in agony as the table pinned his legs. Jack leaned on the edge, looking down at him.
"We’re gonna have a talk, Jerry. Now, Randy tried to talk, and he threatened my young friend. He paid for it with his life. So you might want to think very carefully before you speak. Give me a name."
Jerry spit on the floor and looked up defiantly. "You don’t know who-"
Jack shot him in the arm. He waited a moment for the screams to die down.
"I can do this all day, and I’ve got a crazy imagination."
"You son of a-"
Another shot, this one in the upper thigh.
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