Shrouds of Darkness

by Brock Deskins

  Unfortunately, the same goes for me and after less than ten minutes of fighting I am suffering from far more numerous and severe wounds than he is. As we continue our deadly dance around the study, I know that if I don’t do something soon to change the balance of power I am not going to win this fight.

  I hop backwards over a table as Percy presses me across the room. The moment my feet touch the carpeted floor, I kick the table at Percy, hoping to hit him and knock him off balance. But he easily leaps up and over and the only casualty is the table itself and another section of paneling.

  As Percy continues to force me around the room in a fighting retreat, I know that he is toying with me. He probably could have ended this fight before when he first kicked me into the wall. This calls for a desperate measure.

  I fall into a defensive routine and Percy adjusts his attacks to match. I cut hard across his midsection then immediately come back to block his counter attack. The height of the slashes varies but the motions are the same. We do this for a solid minute then the next time I parry his sword hard to the right, I continue my spin instead of coming back to block the inevitable return strike.

  I spin and strike out almost blindly behind me with the survival knife and feel a certain satisfaction when I bury it to the hilt in Percy’s chest. This also puts my back to my foe and leaves me wide open. Had we been normal humans, my strike would have been decisive. As it is however, my strike is little more than an irritant and I may have just paid for it with my life.

  I feel Percy’s saber slide into my back just below my ribs and thankfully skip off my spine instead of severing it. I look down at the blade that protrudes from my stomach with a little disbelief and a lot of irritation. Even this seemingly horrible wound would be little cause for concern but Percy is obviously tired of the game and decides to end it.

  Instead of pulling the blade back out, he turns it edge out and tears it through my side, creating the most painful and horrible wound I have ever received. I drop my sword, press my arm against the gaping wound in hopes of keeping my guts inside, and stumble forward into the wall before sliding down to the floor. I focus all of my energy on trying to close the wound, very unsure of the degree of success I might achieve. It does not really occur to me that my efforts are ultimately futile since there is no way I can continue the fight.

  “Now this time you do surprise me, Leonard,” Percy says as I lay helpless on the floor. “What on earth possessed you to use such a foolish maneuver? Certainly you did not think this knife was going to cause me that much harm?”

  “No,” I gasp out between bursts of agony. “I expect the plastic explosives packed into the handle to do that.”

  Percy looks from the small remote now visible in my hand to the knife buried in the center of his chest then hurriedly grabs the handle to pull it out. I trigger the explosive the instant he wraps his fingers around the hilt.

  The effect is multiple and instantaneous. The blast tears his fingers from his hand and turns the blade into a projectile that is propelled with enough force to drive it through his sternum and into his spine. It must have been severed the spinal cord because Percy instantly drops to the ground, his legs useless and unable to hold him upright.

  “Not fair, Leonard,” Percy says in shock as he looks at his ruined hand and cratered chest.

  “The battle cry of the loser, Percy,” I reply as I stumble to my feet and retrieve my sword. “You shouldn’t be surprised. After all, you know I’m a sneaky bastard.”

  “Not surprised, Leonard, just disappointed.”

  I am barely able to muster the strength to swing my sword and take his head. The amount of my blood all over the floor is shocking. I look at the young woman huddled in the corner, eyes wide in panic and nearly in a terror-induced catatonic state. I know I can take enough blood from her to regain a small measure of functionality without killing her.

  I leave her lifeless body on the floor where I found her. Chalk up one more victim to Percy’s delusions of grandeur. The only thing worse than cleaning up your own mess, is cleaning up someone else’s. Even with a full feeding, my wound is horrible. It’s closed but my insides are still a mess and it hurts like hell. I could close off more pain receptors but at the loss of some movement. Subconsciously, I probably want to feel the pain for having just killed that woman.

  This is a huge house. I wish I had gotten Percy to tell me where he hid Martin. It could take forever to find him. I’m certain he is on the property. Percy would want to keep him close to make sure no other weres got a whiff of him by moving him far out of the city. The room would need to be strong and very secure. If it were me, I would chain him in a basement or outbuilding. My gut, what’s left of it, tells me basement.

  I pull my phone out of my bag and call Marvin. “Marvin.”

  “Leo, you sound like shit. You ok?”

  “I’m alive. Look at the security schematics and see if there is anything that doesn’t look right or jive with the blueprints of the house.”

  It takes several minutes but Marvin finally replies, “There’s an alarm sensor in the kitchen where there shouldn’t be a door or window.”

  Marvin directs me towards the kitchen and I find it a couple minutes later. It looks more like something for a restaurant than a home. I spy a door that looks like the kind that goes to a walk in freezer. I pull the large metal handle and find a walk in freezer. Shit. A closer inspection of the room reveals a second door similar to the one I just opened. I figure it probably goes to a giant refrigerator but I had best check it out before I start taking down walls with explosives.

  I try the handle but it is locked. Rummaging through my bag, I pull out a small block of C4, press it onto the handle in close proximity to the locking mechanism, and blow it with a remote blasting cap. My small explosion blows off the handle and scorches the door but fails to crack it open. I give the door a cursory kick and find it is built much more like a bank vault than a freezer door.

  One of my favorite sayings is, when in doubt use more explosives. I follow my personal rule, shove a full, one-pound brick of the plastic explosive onto the seam of the door, and frame. After sticking another remote detonator onto it, I make my way into an adjacent room and blow the door.

  The mansion trembles on its foundation and the air fills with dust and the acrid smell of explosives. I find the door and a good portion of the wall it was set in gone. Beyond the gaping hole is a set of stairs leading down, thankfully made of solid stone since the force of the explosion probably would have destroyed simple wooden ones, once gain reminding me of my weakness in thinking through my actions. I also smell gas. The explosion probably knocked a gas line loose from the stove.

  Sword and gun in hand, I descend the steps and enter a chamber straight out of a medieval dungeon. Barred cells are visible along the length of the passageway that ends with a door at the far end about a hundred feet further down from the stairs. The door could lead to a closet but more likely to a tunnel to the outside.

  A rack of cattle prods is mounted to the wall partway down with four of the devices resting in the cradle, charging. Across from it is one of the barred cells that hold a small, naked man huddling in the far corner.

  “Martin Goldstein?” I ask, as if I expect it could be someone else.

  “What’s happening?” he asks softly, his voice quavering with fear or possibly just the cold. “I heard gunshots and explosions. Are you here to get me out?”

  “I am. Can I trust you not to shift on me if I let you out?”

  “Of course, I,” he stumbles towards me then back away quickly when he gets a whiff of me. “You’re a vampire! You’re one of them!”

  “Yes to the first part, hell no to the second part,” I assure him.

  Martin looks very unsure whether to believe me or not. It’s obvious he has been greatly mistreated.

  “Who are you? Why are you here? Who sent you?”

  “My name is Leo. Yuri felt that you’ve had a long enough of a vacation
and wants to make sure you get his taxes filed on time.”

  “Yuri sent you? Does he know what you are?”

  “He does now. Things have gotten problematic lately; your kidnapping being the least of many things that need to be unfucked.”

  “Please get me out. My family must be so worried.”

  I open the cage and Marty tentatively steps out. “Your daughter also sent me to find you.”

  “You know my Katherine?” he asks, pausing to look up me.

  I can’t prevent the smile that creeps onto my face. “Oh yes, I know her quite well.”

  “Leo, I don’t know how I can ever repay you for this.”

  “Well, your daughter has already made sure I’m taken care of. But if you want to do something for me, wear my jacket,” I tell him and hand him my less than tidy coat. “We have to take my motorcycle and the last thing I want is your hairy wolf balls on my back the entire way home. And if you get an erection for any reason you’re walking back to New York. I mean it; wind, vibration, whatever; off you go.”

  Martin blushes as he puts on my jacket, ignoring the blood, slashes, and bullet holes in it. I lead him back up through the kitchen.

  “I smell gas,” the werewolf sniffs the air and says.

  “Yeah, I ate a Mexican for dinner. It happens every time.”

  I leave my bag of remaining explosives in the kitchen with the increasingly pervasive odor of gas. I help it along by kicking loose a few other gas-fueled appliances. The sun is less than an hour away from making its morning debut so Martin and I hightail it back to New York. Luck is with me again and I don’t get pulled over for having a nearly naked man without a helmet on my bike.

  By the time we get back, I figure the mansion has filled with enough gas so I dial the number to the cell phone detonator attached to the explosives in my bag. I should probably call a clean up before I blow the place up but I am feeling particularly vandalistic and spiteful. I call in the cleanup crew immediately and warn them that they need to hurry and would probably need credentials to keep the cops and fire department out of the way.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It takes me three days to get to the point I feel well enough to pay Vincent a visit. I got Marvin another apartment and kicked him out. I get cranky when I don’t feel well and Marvin’s ability to piss me off isn’t healthy for either of us. He took the computer stuff as payment for his services, which was pretty stupid. If he were such a genius, he would have chalked up the stuff he lost in his old apartment as a business expense. It’s definitely on my bill to Yuri and Vincent.

  Yuri paid without question and even gave me a nice bonus. I assume as a consultation for vampire killing. He told me about his battle and is now headquartered in the secure building where he set his trap for Percy’s crew. I told him when I called about the bill that I would talk to the Council about his knowledge of us and that a meeting would probably need to be scheduled. Yuri is familiar with meetings between mob heads and treats it as such.

  I finally feel well enough to pay Vincent a visit and take a cab to the towering headquarters building. I get a dirty look from the guard on duty and it takes me a minute to realize he’s the one I shot the last time I was here. I’ve shot, stabbed, and blown up so many people I can’t keep the faces straight and I don’t even try. I have enough problems without dwelling on that stuff. He keys the elevator for me and I arrive at the top in short order.

  One of Vincent’s toadies instructs me to wait in a conference room. I wait for about fifteen minutes before Vincent enters; flanked by two Sheriffs I’ve never seen before.

  I look at Vincent’s two bodyguards and say, “Seems like there are new faces every time I come here. You know, a high turnover rate is indicative of an unhappy work environment.”

  “Due to the pollution of our own ranks it was necessary to contract outside security from other enclaves until ours can be reliably reestablished,” Vincent answers.

  “Speaking of polluted ranks, what’s happening with Wyatt and the other Sheriffs that sided with Percy?”

  “The two younglings have retaken their oaths and are on strict probation. I have permanently removed Wyatt from his position and assigned him administrative duties in the tower where he is essentially under house arrest. I probably should take his head, but due to his decades of service and lack of active participation in Percy’s schemes I feel leniency is appropriate.”

  “What are you going to do about Yuri and his men? They know about us—and how to kill us.”

  Vincent replies, “We have come to a suitable agreement with Mr. Poplonovich. We each understand that both of our organizations have our positions of strength as well as vulnerabilities. He and his people will hold our existence secret as long we stay out of his territory, both physically and in a business sense. He understands that the vampires who attacked him were primarily younglings and that if the enclave is forced to move against him to protect itself, he and his men will be wiped out to a man in an instant.”

  I don’t think Vincent has a full grasp of Yuri’s cleverness but neither do I think Yuri can withstand a full assault from the enclave. The Council members alone have enough strength to defeat a small army. But Yuri is smart and knows his place. He’ll keep to the agreement and deal with the enclave as another power in the game to be watched and respected.

  “Mr. Malone, I trust you are feeling better?” Vincent asks, not out of concern for my health but as a lead in for another question.

  “A fair bit. I’ll feel a lot better when you take care of this,” I reply and extend a folded slip of paper in my hand.

  Vincent plucks it from my fingers and narrows his eyes as he reads it. “What is this?”

  “It’s a bill. I’ve itemized my charges and expenses.”

  “Ridiculous! As I told you before, you are a warder of your district and performed your duties as required to hold the position. I will not pay you, especially this ridiculous sum, simply for doing your job.”

  “Doing my duty?” I exclaim. “My duty is to deal with sloppy unlawful predations and the general stupidity of individual vampires. You called me in to solve a highly complex problem that you knew was systemic to your organization. You knew you had corrupted Sheriffs and at least one Council member. That kind of duty falls on the Sheriffs, which I am not one of since you fired me for doing my duty. Your calling me in to deal with this large an issue puts me firmly in the realm of private contractor and that is my bill.”

  I’m proud of myself for not jabbing my finger into Vincent’s bony chest to punctuate each of my points. I need to appeal to his logic and that would have made him defensive. And he probably would have ripped my finger off. I watch his jaw muscles convulse as he mentally chews on my argument.

  “Very well, Mr. Malone, but the sum is still grossly inflated. I will pay you half, which is more than fair compensation for the work you did outside your duties as a warder. I suppose you desire some sort of apology from me as well?”

  Oh, glory days! This is going to be the best part yet. I would wave my entire fee just to see the old bastard humble himself and admit he was wrong for firing me. I wish it were more public. My kingdom for a tape recorder.

  I smile widely as Vincent continues. “Well you won’t get one! I still think you are a miserable little shit and hope you die a long and painful death.”

  I feel my smile verbally slapped right off my face.

  Vincent pauses to take a deep breath. “That being said, your continued loyalty and your willingness to risk your own safety for the sake of the enclave makes me realize that I may have acted hastily in removing you from the Sheriffs. I need a new captain and extend to you that position.”

  I actually feel my heart leap with joy. Not for the invitation, but watching Vincent wipe the flecks of spittle from his face that sprays from my mouth as I erupt in laughter. I can actually hear his teeth grinding in fury as I push past him and his guards and give him the finger over my right shoulder as I walk away still laughin
g uproariously. It isn’t an apology but this is just as good and far more to my liking.

  EPILOGUE

  I got a call earlier from someone that needed some heavy protection so I’m in my office with my feet kicked up on my desk waiting. It’s not long before I hear the sound of feet clomping up my stairs—too many feet. And I think I smell a cat.

  With a sigh, I pull out my phone and hit the speed dial for my lawyer just as Castillo bursts through the door with half a dozen cops, all with their guns drawn.

  “Don’t move, Malone!” Castillo orders. “I have a warrant for your arrest.”

  “What for now?”

  “We have a missing persons report and a witness that saw you assault him just before he was last seen alive. I already have a videotaped witness report that positively identifies you. Let your shit bag lawyer tamper with this one,” Castillo tells me gleefully.

  It takes me a minute to connect the dots—a problem when you assault so many people on a regular basis. She is referring to that kid I ended on the way to Yuri’s club, the one that was going to rape the girl.

  Will picks up. “Will, it’s Leo. Yeah, Castillo is taking me in now.”

  “Move it, Malone,” Castillo orders as she pulls out her cuffs, “I have your ass this time.”

  *****

  Kurt and Danny are best friends and celebrating their recent high school graduation by having a few beers in the bar of the Marriott thanks to their fake IDs.

  “I can’t believe we’re finally done with high school,” Kurt says to his friend.

  Danny raises his glass of beer in a toast. “Here’s to no more wedgies!”

  “Here’s to NYU and hot college chicks desperate for math tutors!” Kurt adds and takes a deep drink from his glass. “I can’t believe we’ll be in college in the fall.”