by Gina Ranalli
CHAPTER 18
When Gunnar Bliss arrived at the cemetery later that night, walking with a shovel slung over his shoulder, Justin Cash was waiting for him.
Cash sat casually, leaning against the tombstone with his arms folded and a smirk across his face. The same smirk he’d learned from Bliss himself.
Bliss had taught him everything he knew and he’d taught him well.
If Bliss was surprised or alarmed to see Cash there, he didn’t show it. He slowed his pace down for a moment, and then resumed walking with purpose. They both could see exceptionally well in the dark and both could tell the other was smiling even at twenty yards in full dark. Cash could even see that Bliss’s fangs had already descended.
“Hey, buddy,” Cash said, getting to his feet when Bliss was close enough that he didn’t have to raise his voice. “How goes the battle?”
“Pretty stupid, you showing up here,” Bliss replied.
Cash looked down at the messy scene at his feet. “Workers just barely finished filling this hole back in. You know you made the news, right? Grave robbers, thwarted before they could collect their booty, the lady said.”
“Is that right?” Bliss didn’t even pretend to be interested.
Shrugging, Cash replied, “Something like that anyway.”
Bliss stopped about five feet from where Cash stood, resting his butt against the gravestone.
“Why are you here, Cash? Because if you’ve come to ask for my forgiveness…you ain’t got it.”
Cash laughed. “Nope. That’s not why I’m here. It may sound strange, but I guess you could say I kind of miss you and the gang.”
“That right?” Bliss said again. “Your new playmates know that?”
“Nope. I don’t think they’d understand, truth be told.”
Regarding him with an expression of boredom, Bliss asked, “What’s to keep me from killing you right now?”
“I don’t know,” Cash admitted. “You have lighter fluid and some matches on ya?”
“That supposed to be funny?”
“It wasn’t?”
“You know I don’t need matches. I can rip your head clean off your shoulders like pulling wings off a fly.”
Cash’s smile slipped a notch. “That makes two of us.”
Bliss shifted the shovel, preparing to use it as a weapon and Cash held up his hands.
“I don’t want any trouble, Gunnar. Really, I don’t.”
“Then you’re in the wrong place, hoss, because you got a world of trouble aimed at your goddamn face.”
“Now, just settle down for a second. I want in on this.”
“This? What this?”
Cash pointed at the ground. “Him. I want to be here when you raise him.”
“Why?”
After a pause, Cash replied, “Professional curiosity.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Bliss was growing more irritated by the second. When Cash didn’t respond, he went on. “You’ve seen a hundred raisings if you’ve seen one, so don’t give me curiosity. That’s bullshit. You think I’m an idiot?”
“Hell, no, I don’t think you’re an idiot. You know me better than that.”
“Then you’d better start explaining yourself ‘cause I can’t even think of a reason why I ain’t killed you yet.”
Cash dared to smile again. “Because we’re buddies. Any fool could see that. You took a liking to me right off the bat.”
Bliss took a single step forward and swung the shovel at Cash’s head, clocking him hard and sending him tumbling to the ground, raising his hands defensively, too late. He lay still for a moment before clutching his head and groaning in pain.
“Son of a bitch!” he cursed. “What the fuck?”
“You know Melosia’s dying? Right fucking now, no thanks to you. What did they stick her with?”
Cash didn’t say anything until Bliss brandished the shovel again. “Something called a Phoenix Blade. I haven’t got the whole story on it yet. Don’t fucking hit me again!”
Standing over Cash menacingly, Bliss said, “Phoenix Blade? That’s a fucking myth.”
“Apparently not,” Cash said, still wincing. “I hope you’re happy. I already have a fucking lump.”
“You’re gonna get more than a fucking lump, you little back stabbing prick. Start talking!”
Cash thought Bliss had clearly seen too many westerns in his time. Maybe even all of them, he was so fucking old. He was surprised Bliss didn’t wear twin six shooters on his hips for all the stereotypical threats he threw forth. Hell, he even talked a bit like John Wayne, if Wayne had been a demon out of Hell with scraggly long blond hair and a simultaneously charming and threatening disposition.
Cash finally released his head. “Can I stand up or should I just stay down?”
“Talk!”
Taking that as an answer in the affirmative, Cash cautiously got to his feet. “The blade is real. And if Mel is really dying, I guess it does what the old stories say it does. Burns you up from the inside. Right?”
Reluctantly, Bliss lowered the shovel and nodded. “Seems like that’s what’s happening.”
Cash felt a pang of regret. He’d always liked Mel, and John too.
“How do we fix it?” Bliss asked.
“I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t think the hunters even know.”
“They wouldn’t tell you if they did.”
“Probably not,” Cash agreed.
“Why’re you running around with them anyway?”
Cash knew he had to be very careful in how he answered this question. If Bliss sensed even the slightest thing off about his response, they would almost certainly be dueling to the death, right here and now.
“You ever heard of a double agent?” Cash asked.
“Of course I’ve heard of a goddamn double agent. If that were true, you would have done it by my call.”
“You’re not my lord and master, Bliss,” Cash said defiantly. “I have a mind of my own.”
“No you fucking don’t. None of you do.”
Uncertain of how to respond to this, he asked, “Do you trust me?”
“I did trust you, Cash. Trusting you bit me in the ass.”
“That’s not true. Let me prove it to you. Let’s dig up this guy together.”
Bliss glanced down at the grave and back up again. “I only see one shovel here, asshole.”
Cash held out his hand. “Give it here.”
From beneath the brim of his hat, Bliss’s eyes narrowed but he remained silent.
Letting out a chortle, Cash said, “What? You think I’m gonna club you with the thing? What kind of dick sucker would do that?”
For a split second, Cash thought Bliss was going to hand him the shovel but then he said, “Nah. Think I’ll pass.”
“Hey!” A male voice suddenly shouted. “What are you fellas doing over there?”
They both looked over to see an older man walking towards them, flashlight in hand. He was wearing a security guard’s uniform.
“Told you you made the news,” Cash said.
Bliss made the sound of a man irritated with his lot in life before his face broke into a wide, charming grin. “Evening, officer,” he said to the approaching man. “We heard there was some shenanigans going on over here. Wanted to check it out for ourselves.”
“Oh, yeah?” the security guard said, drawing closer. “Then what’s the shovel for?”
Bliss laughed and jerked a thumb at Cash. “I needed something to hit him in the head with.”
The man frowned uncertainly. Both monsters made note of the fact that the guard wasn’t carrying a weapon but his free hand was already reaching for the walkie talkie clipped to his belt.
“Son of a bitch,” Bliss said and leapt.
The guard didn’t have time to react; he died with a vaguely surprised expression on his face and nothing more. Bliss tore his throat out completely before his body had hit the ground.
When it was over, h
e licked blood from his lips and wiped the rest away with the sleeve of his jacket. Still, his chin dripped with gore.
He snarled up at Cash who’d grabbed the shovel the instant Bliss had dropped it. Bliss’s yellow eyes watched him, the pupils fully dilated. Cash could tell Bliss wasn’t sure what to expect from him. Would he attack with the shovel? Cash showed he meant no harm by slamming the spade into the loose dirt of the grave.
“We have to hurry,” Cash said and began to dig. “I’m sure there’s more where he came from.”
Bliss studied him carefully from his crouched position on the ground, more beast than man but eyes sparkling with intelligence and understanding far beyond that of any animal roaming the planet. He remained in that position for a good five minutes before morphing back into his full human form and snatched up his hat from where it had fallen during his attack on the guard, placing it back on his head and then straightening his duster.
“Don’t get dolled up on my account, big guy,” Cash said and tossed fresh dirt over his shoulder.
Cash had dug up more bodies than he could remember and was finished in far less time than it would have taken even the most experienced grave digger. He was stronger and faster in every way and the job was done less than half an hour later.
Bliss stood by and watched like an overlord, occasionally glancing around for more unwanted company. He kept silent and let Cash do the work but once the shovel hit the top of the casket, it became his party. He jumped down into the grave beside Cash and said, “Let’s get him out of there.”
Cash could tell Bliss was particularly excited about this one but he wasn’t sure why. As far as he knew, Meadows wasn’t a killer, though he’d certainly been a monster in his own right. Perplexed, he did as he was told and it felt like old times again. There was a certain comfort to be had from taking orders from Bliss, as he had for so many years.
When they’d pulled the body up, they discovered that Meadows had been a slight man with a bulging Adam’s apple and short cropped hair. He’d been buried in a cheap brown suit and no shoes. Probably supplied by the funeral home, if it had been a particularly generous one.
Completely in his element now, Bliss grinned, leaning over the corpse, and said, “Rise and shine, Mr. Meadows. It’s the luckiest goddamn day of your life.”
CHAPTER 19
Quinn watched the scene in the cemetery go down from across the street, peering through his night vision binoculars and hiding behind a large and ancient oak tree.
When Bliss had clocked Cash with the shovel, he thought they were screwed but when the guard had been murdered he’d almost blown it himself, coming extremely close to breaking into a run and just trying to take Bliss out himself.
The scene had been horrific and watching it from a distance, helpless, would stay with him for the rest of his life. He felt like a coward and a failure for not acting and no amount of telling himself it had been for the greater good would ever convince him of anything else. But he had followed the plan and stayed put and was even more shocked when Bliss apparently believed Cash was on his side once more.
Evidently, the double agent line had worked because they brought Meadows up and revived him. Quinn was mystified about how Bliss intended to get his new prize back to the monster hideout, but much to Quinn’s amazement, the skinny man just climbed onto the back of Bliss’s motorcycle and the two had roared off into the night.
As planned, Cash had followed behind them in a stolen Chevy and Quinn himself had followed behind Cash in the old Honda.
The result of this venture was simply to find out where the monsters were holed up, since they were within the hunter’s reach by being in the same vicinity, at least for the moment. There was no way of knowing how long they’d be around or where they’d head next so Quinn had to act now. He doubted Sam was still alive but there was a possibility, however slight, and he resolved to find out which it was.
When the motorcycle eventually drove into an area so rural that Quinn didn’t think he could follow without being noticed, he passed by the turnoff and immediately called the cell phone he’d given Cash before proceeding with this outing.
Cash answered but didn’t say much.
“Old white farmhouse, about three miles from the main road. One of those big porches that go all around the place. There’s a swing. You can’t miss it.”
After that, Cash had broken the connection, leaving Quinn to wonder, not for the first time, if the monster could truly be trusted. It was impossible to say whose side Cash was really on or to try to figure out his motives for anything.
Quinn waited a good half hour before making the trek down the road on foot. The night was pitch black and clouds were rolling in from the west. Soon, it would be raining which, while uncomfortable, he knew would probably mask any sounds he might make from the outside of the house. A creaky porch board, for example.
He had no intention of going in guns blazing. He just wanted to scope out the situation, try to determine if Sam was in there and then decide his next move at that point.
Creeping up on the house, he was almost convinced Cash had lied to him after all. There was no sign of any kind of life-certainly no vehicles parked in the gravel driveway or anywhere within sight. But as he drew closer, Quinn could make out a flickering glow in one of the front windows. The monsters were burning at least one candle in that front room and upon closer inspection, he could see more glowing in another room towards the rear of the house. It was from this direction that he decided to approach, crossing the road at some distance past the house and travelling into the woods behind it. He was still moving through the dark cover of trees when it began to rain. As hoped, any twigs snapped beneath his sneakers couldn’t be heard even by him; he hoped the rain would keep up long enough for him to get in a good long peek.
Just as he was about to approach the clearing that gave way to the house’s backyard, he heard a screen door squeak open and then close again. Peering through the cover of branches, he witnessed the silhouettes of two men on the back porch. He could hear muffled voices, but not well enough to decipher what they were saying. One of the monsters was definitely Bliss; there was no mistaking him in his ever present cowboy hat. The other figure was a mystery. It could have been Cash but Quinn didn’t think it was. From here, the figure appeared to be too large and imposing but it was difficult to be sure given the distance, darkness and rain. He suspected it was the one who’d fought with him in the cemetery. It was definitely too small to be Meadows. Quinn suspected that guy was somewhere in the house recovering from the shock of being brought back to life. He couldn’t imagine what that would be like. Probably more confusion than anything else, even joy. Joy might come later, once the shock had worn off.
He was trying to hear what the two on the porch were saying, ears pricked as much as possible. The rain was now a hindrance to him instead of a benefit and he was just about to try creeping forward more when his phone vibrated in his pocket. Instead of carefully moving forward, he took a few ginger steps backwards and positioned his body behind a tree before pulling the device out. He didn’t want to chance the light from the phone being seen, though he doubted it would.
Consulting the phone, he saw it was a text message from Helena: “Where the fuck are you?”
Quickly, he typed back: “Can’t talk now.”
He knew that would be enough for her. She wouldn’t bother responding again until she heard from him first.
Putting the phone back in his pocket, he peered around the tree and saw that Bliss and his companion had either gone back into the house or they were walking around outside. Quinn had no way of knowing which it was, but he hadn’t heard the screen door, which made him nervous.
Frozen in place, he listened, but could hear nothing over the rain. He was soaked to the bone, cold and growing more miserable by the moment. Slowly, he pulled the Phoenix Blade from his belt and held it at the ready. It wasn’t much but it would have to be enough.
Long minutes pas
sed and nothing changed. He had to assume the monsters had gone back inside while he was texting. Cautiously, he stepped away from the tree which shielded him and began to make his way towards the house. Every step was a lesson in stealth. He’d made the unfortunate mistake of leaving the binoculars in the car. He hoped that mistake wouldn’t prove fatal.
At the edge of the clearing, the woods now at his back, he crouched, making himself as small of a target as he could, and checked the perimeter of the backyard. Still nothing moved beyond what was blown by the wind and rain. Light still shown in the window of the back room, which Quinn assumed was a kitchen.
He crept forward, staying low but moving fast now, aiming straight for the back porch. If he was spotted, he’d be dead. There were too many of them, even with the blade on his side. They would take it from him anyway, with little trouble, he was sure. He wished he’d told Helena where he was exactly but it was too late now. That fact, coupled with forgetting the binoculars, made him suddenly, painfully aware that he was probably not ready for this kind of mission. He was still an apprentice hunter and he probably would not live to be anything more. His courage and eagerness had overshadowed his common sense. Trusting Cash had probably been his first mistake.
When he reached the porch steps, he took them two at a time until he was at a window near the backdoor. Squatting beneath it, he took a deep breath before popping his head up just enough to see into the room beyond.
He’d been right. It was a kitchen and he saw just enough to determine that a woman-Helena’s mother-was laying on the countertop, curled into a fetal position. She appeared to be alone in there. He ducked down again, considering his options. Going into the house would be suicide, so he would have to travel around it and take his chances at being spotted looking into other windows.