Flames to Free (Dred Dixon Chronicles Book 1)

by N. A. Grotepas

  31

  We waited outside Red Iguana 2 in the evening light, beneath the shade provided by the towering trees. The place was packed, like always, and we tried to claim a corner of the parking lot where the least amount of people milled about, conversing.

  “This is your initiation,” I said, sitting on the curb next to Vivian and giving her a smile.

  “Like a hazing?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” Hank said, laughing. He stood over us with his aviators on, looking tough in his jacket. Or trying to, anyway.

  “I thought hazings were mean. This doesn’t feel mean, unless you’re going to make me eat insanely hot salsa.”

  “Yeah, mean hazings aren’t how we roll, sweetheart,” Hank said. “Those never turn out well.”

  “Lawsuits. Who needs ‘em?” I said. “Anyway, initiation might not be the right word. More of a ‘welcome to the team’ dinner.”

  “Why didn’t anyone else come with, then?” She really loved to poke holes in everything we said.

  “I hate big parties. A table of six or seven is pointless. Then we’re all just shouting to try to be heard.” It was true. I found large parties in restaurants to be one of the greatest nuisances in modern society. I’d sooner cavort through a busy city square, nude, with fake angel wings attached to my back, screaming that the sky was falling, than sit with a party of ten in a busy restaurant.

  I didn’t say that aloud. The last thing I needed was to encourage Hank to visualize me naked.

  He’d probably already done that, I realized. And so of course, I began to visualize him naked.

  Luckily it didn’t go too far, because at that point it was our turn to be seated.

  At the table, Hank and I ordered drinks and when Vivian asked if she could get one too, as part of her initiation, we both laughed.

  “You can have a drink,” I said, smiling. “How about an horchata?”

  “Sure, that sounds good.”

  I exchanged a look with Hank, communicating that I hadn’t expected her to be pumped about my offer of horchata. He shrugged, but I could tell it surprised him too. Was she going to add alcohol when I wasn’t looking? Did she know what an horchata was?

  “Well, how was your first day, kid?” Hank asked, beginning to munch on chips and salsa.

  “Could you not call me kid?” she answered immediately.

  “But you are,” Hank said.

  “A kid is younger than ten, right Dred?”

  Oh great. Putting me in the middle, my favorite thing. “Sorry, Vivian. For us, you’re a kid.”

  “Doesn’t mean you need to call me that. You’re both assholes. Do I call you asshole?”

  I suppressed a flinch. She had a point. “You could. But then I’d take the moped back.”

  What was happening? Threats to take back gifts (of sorts?) as punishment? Had I become my mother?

  “So, now you’re going to be lording the moped over me all the time?” Vivian asked, cocking her head to the side. “I don’t like ‘gifts’ like that.”

  “That’s how the world works.” While true, the entire interchange was making me feel like a complete ass.

  She let out a hefty sigh, trying a different tack from fighting back. Now she was acting defeated. Her shoulders bent in like she was exhausted from constantly being at odds with me and Hank. “When can I go back to Gingerbread?”

  I watched Hank bite his lip to hold back whatever he was going to say. A respectable move.

  “We can arrange it.” I closed my menu, already knowing what I wanted to order.

  “I thought you said I couldn’t?” She seemed taken aback.

  “I did. But the threats and endless battles to keep the peace between us are exhausting. It’s like a bad relationship, you know? Anyway, Vivian, you’re not my kid. You’re someone I wanted to help. The harder it gets to help you, the more I realize it’s stupid of me to force you to accept my help.”

  She frowned. “So, your help is based on how easy it is for you to help?”

  I shrugged. “About like that, yes.”

  “Just don’t call me kid. I don’t think that’s too much to ask.”

  “It’s not,” I said, exchanging another look with Hank. I liked calling her kid too. But, it seemed a decent request. After all, I wasn’t a tyrant.

  “I’m not on board with this. But I will stop calling you kid, kid,” Hank said, crunching on another chip.

  “Off to a great start, I see,” Vivian said, crunching on a chip herself.

  “Starting, now,” Hank said.

  Our drinks arrived, we ordered our food, there was a minor tiff over the horchata when Vivian realized it didn’t have a single drop of alcohol in it, and soon we’d eaten and were leaving the restaurant and walking back to the Flameheart Fortress.

  As we strolled through the perfect desert dusk, I realized that relaxation was just what I had needed. I noted that I’d probably been working myself up over the demon, the dragon, and the creepy bastard in the Hawaiian shirt. It was in that moment, listening to Hank tell Vivian about how great New York City was, that I realized things had actually turned around, and here was more evidence of that, Vivian was getting along with us sort of, the food at the Iguana was as brilliant as ever, and the evening felt like utter bliss.

  That could have also been the margaritas talking.

  And yet.

  And yet there remained an uneasy feeling eating away at the fringes of the bliss. I pushed it away, again, like I’d been doing all night. I sighed—maybe a sigh would help. Maybe that would dissipate some of my nervous energy. I could think my way out of this sensation, I knew I could. Perhaps whatever had caused so much turmoil had ended, and we could lay to rest the worry about the demon and the dragon and I could move on with my life.

  A train suddenly rumbled by, its pace clipping along, shaking the earth beneath my feet. As we walked parallel to the train, I glanced through an open train car just for a moment and spotted a mob walking down the street. Just marching right down the middle of 8th west, which ran at a right angle to the street we were on. The movement of the mob was militant almost, their clothing consisting of black, red, and gray leathers. Some of them wore long trench coats with tails flowing out behind them, while others flexed in short jackets that glinted in the vanishing daylight. All in all, it was the slick clean look of the undead with daunting short swords sticking off their backs.

  Vampires.

  And they were coming straight for us as the last rays of the sun faded over the western horizon.

  32

  “What is this, a flash mob? Are we on Candid Camera?” I asked loudly to be heard over the train, looking around, calculating our odds of coming out on top.

  “Great reference, Dred,” Hank said, stopping and reaching a hand out to push Vivian behind him. “This does feel as implausible as a campy, late 80s reality show.”

  We didn’t often run into full mobs of the types that I didn’t hesitate to simply shoot or stab or try to destroy in the spells that I’d recently learned.

  This would be, in fact, the first full on assault I’d dealt with since Scott’s death. Anxiety closed around my throat, squeezing it tight. I took a breath like I’d learned with Orrin and charged up a spell. My left hand glowed white. My right hand clutched my Colt. I didn’t even remember drawing it. With the cold steel in my grip, confidence flooded through me. It only held eight rounds, but the silver infused bullets delivered a killing blow to vampires when it hit their heart.

  And they knew it. Which was why, once the mob registered that we’d seen them, the bastards began leaping into flight to soar over the passing train, coming for us.

  “Stay behind me, kid,” I said, grabbing Vivian as she moved out in front of us despite Hank’s push to get her behind us, her eyes bright with curiosity.

  “What are they?” She’d taken on a swagger like she’d challenge them. I admired the bold move, but she’d get killed doing that.

  “Vampires.” I squi
nted, checking my answer by studying the mob. “And a void demon, it looks like.” I finished pushing her behind me, realizing I’d just called her kid, I couldn’t help it. I was giving her orders and it just came out. We’d fix that later, for now I needed to make sure she stayed alive. And not the undead sort of alive.

  “Vampires are real?” She asked from behind me.

  “Yes, they are. Remember that talk where I told you they’re not cool and rebellious despite how sexy they’re portrayed these days? So stay behind me and don’t get in the way. You’ll see what I mean now. They’re usually not nice, so again, stay behind me. And I mean it.”

  Hank had already gone through the process of summoning his golden Glock with his amethyst stylus. The black non-magical gun was in his other hand. I had the weird thought in that moment “why doesn’t he just summon two magical Glocks?”

  Who knew. For now, I had to focus. There would be collateral damage. There would be people spotting the fight. We would need a clean up crew.

  “Can we send Vivian to the fortress?” Hank asked, firing his summoned Glock at a vampire that landed right in front of him. The bullet tore through its head. Blood and gray matter flew everywhere. Vivian shrieked.

  “That’ll draw a crowd,” I muttered. Hank heard and nodded.

  “Nothing draws a crowd like a crowd. But she’ll get used to it,” he answered. “It’ll be good for her.”

  “You’d make a great dad, Hank. Really.”

  “I know.”

  “I was joking. That’s terrible parenting.”

  “The real world is ugly, but also beautiful. I know what I’m doing.”

  Did he, though? I had to remember not to leave Vivian with him if he thought exposing a teenager to supernatural gore was good parenting. Getting Vivian to safety and away from the carnage was my number one priority, if it could be done. The mob had specifically come for us, that much was obvious. Were they after Vivian? Were they after me?

  I counted at least ten vampires fanning out in front of us, barring our passage. The mob filled out to be somewhere around thirty, dressed in the prototypical dark clothing to blend in with the night, looking sleek and polished, with pale skin that likely hadn’t seen the sun in who knew how long. They took up posts around every exit point, closing in on us, squeezing us into a small huddle in the center of the street. No traffic would be getting past this herd of vampires.

  Or would that be flock? I smirked at my joke to myself.

  Two more vampires landed near us, deciding to get down to business and stop with the foreplay.

  “Welcome to the jungle,” I said, throwing a deep freeze water spell at them both, which slowed them down, then I shot a .45 round into the larger one’s gut. The bullets immediately began to singe their flesh. The smell of burning undead blew toward us. Vivian made a gagging noise.

  “Welcome to the jungle?” Hank echoed. “I would have gone with ‘so nice of you to drop in.’”

  “That’s cliche. Terrible.”

  “And ‘welcome to the jungle’ isn’t?”

  I ignored him. I tried to ignore Vivian’s noises as well. Her commentary—whether it was shrieks or retching sounds—was going to become a problem if I didn’t think of something quick. Not to mention that she was completely unequipped to fight. Wouldn’t it have been great to find out in that moment that she’d been secretly trained in martial arts and all manner of weapons? She came from money, why couldn’t she also come from a line of paranoid rich parents who’d forced her into studying with martial arts masters in far away lands?

  Of course not. Of course the wayward youth we’d hooked up with had been sheltered and innocent all her life.

  I sighed and shoved my gun into the holster in the small of my back, then prepared to lob more of my two or three spells at the vampires with both hands.

  Before I launched a host of air and water artillery at them, I pulled the cell phone out of my pocket and blindly handed it back to the kid. “Take it. Call Captain Fua.”

  “It’s not unlocked,” she said.

  I pulled it back and unlocked it with my face, then handed it back, turning to confront the enemy.

  Before I could, Vivian shrieked behind me and I turned to see a vampire bearing down on her. She tried to fight back, lashing out with a leg.

  “Move, Vivian!” I grabbed my gun again as she ducked and rolled away on the pavement. I pulled the trigger on the Colt. The bullet only grazed the vampire’s leg. I adjusted my aim and fired again.

  This round blew his head off.

  “Sorry, Vivian,” I felt a touch of sympathy for her. Poor kid. I mean, I mentally complained about her lack of training, but I didn’t want her to see this nonsense yet. She just wasn’t prepared. “Call Fua, get him out here!”

  “I’m trying,” she whimpered as she joined me again, fumbling with the phone.

  “You got this. You’re learning,” I said, finding myself somewhat impressed with how well she was handling everything.

  I turned and caught Hank pulling the trigger on his summoned gun in quick succession, taking out vamp after vamp.

  As I watched, I caught movement on the roof of a building on the other side of the cross street half a block away. When my eyes adjusted to the meager glow of city light, I picked out the telltale sign of a Hawaiian shirt.

  “Hank. Check it out. Bad fashion at two o’clock.”

  My attention could only stay focused there for a moment as a void demon landed in front of us. It sank into a battle-ready crouch and fixed its penetrating gaze on me. Meanwhile, the caboose of the passing train swept by. Silence reigned. I looked at the roof again and the Hawaiian shirt was gone.

  “He’s gone, Stone. Did you see it?” I focused on the void demon, trying to stay calm and assured as it moved around me, sizing me up.

  “No, Dred, I’m in the middle of a war!” Hank fired his summoned Glock a few times as though to punctuate his claims of war.

  “Well, it was our jerk-off friend.”

  “That idiot in the Hawaiian shirt?” He paused and fired on two vampires charging him. They leapt, springing into flight to dodge the bullets, swooping high until their trajectory took them back into the safety of the rest of the mob, which was huddled around something as though they were protecting it. “I believe it. Otherwise this random attack makes no sense.”

  We quieted. I had a void demon to kill. But, it meant something big to have seen that creep hanging around us. What that meaning was, I’d have to sort later.

  The void demon looked like its cousin, the fire demon, in most ways except that its coloring was pale purple. The one currently in a stand off with me was covered in runic tattoos—the amount of tattoos related to its age and power. This one held obvious seniority, which meant more power and perhaps more capacity for dealing damage when the fighting began. Its upper body was strong, filled out with muscles that caused the tattoos to ripple. Horns sprouted off the top of its head and large hoop earrings dangled from its ears. Black eyes with a hint of purple flame stared passively at me, but I felt a malevolence in that gaze.

  Cold chills rippled across my skin. I could usually stomach the idea that evil was an action and not a state of being. But something about this demon told me it was an exception to the rule.

  I vaguely noticed the sound of Vivian talking on the phone. I began my next spell and aimed the 1911 as the demon crept toward me, its eyes wary.

  “You will not win this war.” Its voice was thunderous though quiet, booming toward me. The accent was strong and suggested its original tongue was some kind of Romance language, not Slavic or Germanic.

  “What war?” I asked resisting the urge to say something snarky back.

  “How innocent. You do not even know that you are in the middle of a battle.”

  “What, this battle?” I didn’t budge. My gun arm was getting heavy, but I kept it leveled on the demon. “Or do you mean some kind of existential lifelong battle?” There it was. The snark came out.

&n
bsp; “I bet he means something more philosophical,” Hank contributed. “Better just shoot him.”

  It should be mentioned that I’d never faced down a void demon before. I knew that this one’s language abilities likely meant that it was very old. It also pointed to some serious crap going on with that guy in the Hawaiian shirt. Who was he? How did he have the power to command a void demon? Why were there vampires fighting for him? I was getting impatient to figure things out. I’d had just about enough of his meddling.

  “Together, Dred?” Hank asked, reading my mind and moving closer to me to form the point of a triangle, shielding Vivian behind us.

  “Hell yes. I’m ready,” I whispered. “Say when.”

  “When.” His voice was soft, but I heard him.

  It was a bad time to have this happen, but when Hank whispered when back at me, some kind of distracting vine of desire uncoiled in my gut. Right now? I wanted to scream. This was somewhat familiar territory. It had happened a few times before, the feeling that I was desperately ignoring. The source came from the combination of being so in synch with Hank during a battle and… his whisper. Battle was a dance. It was primitive. And I guess my brain couldn’t unravel the context and decided this would be a great time to respond with a raging bonfire in my loins. Stupid loins.

  Despite the desire suddenly flooding my knees and making them weak, ice spears flew from my hand. As the demon focused on the frozen projectiles coming at him, I steadied myself, held my breath, and squeezed the trigger on my Colt.

  The bullet ripped through its right bicep as it turned to avoid the ice daggers.

  The spell missed. But my bullet connected. Hank’s magical bullets hit the creature’s limbs as well, but very little happened. Almost like it had a spell protecting it.

  “It’s got a shield,” Hank hissed.

  Shit.

  “Void demon shields,” I said aloud, hoping that would recall the information I’d recently read about their magic.

  “Yeah, that’s what it is, Dred.”

  “I know, I’m trying to remember their weakness.”