Anthology - Kick Ass

by Maggie Shayne, MaryJanice Davidson, Angela Knight, Jacey Ford

  "Yes, completely. The very idea is beyond ridiculous."

  "We'd make a great team," the vampire said, actually sounding wounded.

  "Yeah, we would," Boy Hinder enthused.

  God, God. "I'm sure you've both heard this before, but I don't work for vampires, I kill them."

  "How many have you killed?"

  "That's none of our business," Gregory said quickly.

  Ha! That made him a little twitchy. She decided to answer. "I stopped counting when I got to twenty-five."

  "Why?"

  "Because it was depressing," she admitted.

  "Just for the record, I don't have a problem with you killing vampires per se," the vampire announced.

  "How utterly super of you."

  "But, I feel like I have to clarify, vampires are like everybody else: Some of them are assholes, and some of them are saints, but most of them are somewhere in the middle."

  "All the ones I've met have been assholes."

  "But you've met me," he said, visibly hurt.

  "Gregory, most of the vampires I've killed have started it by trying to kill me. How can you defend them?"

  He opened his mouth, then closed it without a word.

  "All righty then. Now, if you've got some information on where we can find Martigan, let's have it so we can please get off this grungy waterfront, find the fucker, kill the fucker, and I can go home and never see you again."

  "Which one of us?" Eddie whined.

  God, God. "Just give, Gregory. Please. I'm begging. I really am."

  He grinned. "All right. In the interest of saving Eddie from federal assault, your wish is my command. According to my latest update, the fucker will be at the Park Street Station tomorrow night at eight. Fund-raiser for the Y."

  "That's nice and specific," Eddie commented.

  "And it matches with what I was able to find out, so it's probably accurate." Score another one for Gregory. Damn it.

  "How'd you know this?" Eddie asked with exhausting excitement. "The ultra-secret society of vampires? Or vampire killers? You received an update? A secret update?"

  "No, we read the neighborhood newsletter, dumb shit," Boo said kindly. "You have to know how things work, and why things work, and what's going on around you, all the time. Not only will the place be crawling with kids, it'll be crawling with kids in the foster program."

  "No parents to notice they're gone," Gregory explained.

  "Duh," Eddie snarked. "That much I could figure out on my own."

  "And the state system… well, they do their best, but they're understaffed and underfunded. I'm sorry to say it would take days for anyone to notice a missing orphan."

  Sorry to say? Why does he even care? "It'll be a smorgasbord for Martigan," she added. "He won't be able to resist."

  "If it's not till tomorrow, why did we—you—go out tonight?"

  "Sometimes it takes a few nights to case the dead guy—or gal—in general. Remember: Know what's going on around you, all the time."

  Incredibly, Eddie had whipped out a pen and was taking notes on his palm. "… all… the… time…"

  "Besides, killing two vampires in one night is too much to ask of anyone," Gregory said.

  "Hmf," she replied.

  "Two vampires or two dozen, we'll be there," Eddie said, sounding tough and flinty, tucking the pen behind his ear. Then, "Uh, right? We'll be there?"

  Annoyingly, the vampire and the vampire hunter traded a look. "Sure," Gregory said with a total lack of conviction.

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 10

  "You live here?"

  Gregory stifled a laugh; it was obvious Eddie was being disabused of one cherished notion after another. They had pulled up outside a perfectly ordinary looking apartment building in Quincy, a perfectly ordinary southern suburb of Boston.

  "Yeah."

  "It's nice." He himself had a house on the beach on the Cape but then, he'd had a few decades to save up for it. And the security business was, as always, very good. "It's nice and… unassuming."

  Boo snorted, but she didn't shoot him again, so he was marginally encouraged. He'd changed into a hole-free pair of slacks, but that was it until he went home.

  Frankly, he was amazed she had brought them to her home, of all things. But then, quite a bit about the evening had amazed him.

  He wondered if she was lonely. It was a thought that had never occurred to him in the same context as the dreaded Ghost.

  But it was something to think about.

  "So this is your fortress of solitude, huh?" Eddie asked as they stepped into the elevator.

  "Yes. I retreat here to bind the wounds inflicted upon me by man's inhumanity to man. I use justice as my poultice."

  Gregory coughed hard, so he wouldn't laugh hard. He caught Boo's eye but had to look away. Judging from the bite on Eddie's neck, his evening was going badly enough.

  And… for a second… he could have sworn she winked at him.

  Impossible. He was just getting sentimental in his old age.

  Even in the flickering fluorescent elevator lighting, she was stunning, and though he'd looked away to avoid cracking up, he found himself looking at her again. To his surprise, Boo was eyeing him back. This was nerve-racking, while at the same time stimulating.

  Eddie, the game little fellow, hadn't given up. "So you moved here after the grisly death of your parents?" he asked, following her to apartment 9C.

  "My parents are still alive," she replied.

  "Really? That's—wait!" Eddie threw up his hands and Gregory walked right into them. "She has to invite you in."

  "No I don't, dumbass," she said kindly, unlocking the door and walking in.

  "It's just an old wives' tale," Gregory said, patting the boy on the shoulder. He felt a little sorry for Eddie; the kid was getting more crushed by the minute. "You know, you could be a little nicer," he told her.

  "I could?" She was already shrugging out of her jacket, revealing a black tank top, smoothly muscled arms, and gorgeous breasts, real old-fashioned breasts like the ones Ava and Marilyn had.

  Boo tossed her black jacket onto the end table. Which was also black. As were the sofa, coffee table, chairs, and lamps.

  "Whoa," Eddie said, staring around the room.

  "My home away from etcetera," Boo said. "I'd offer you guys a drink, but one of you is a parasite and the other one isn't welcome."

  "Ha ha," he said to Eddie, "you're a parasite."

  "Your apartment is all black."

  "I'm glad you've pointed that out. It's been on my mind for some time." She twirled a ghost-white strand of hair on an equally white finger. "Do you think it has some sort of deep psychological meaning?"

  Eddie seemed to realize he was stating the obvious (not to mention skating on thin ice), so he switched tactics. "You said earlier—you said your parents are alive?"

  "Sure. They're still running the café, last time I checked."

  "Oh. Well, that's… that's good."

  Gregory looked around inside the slightly cluttered, conventional-except-for-the-color-scheme apartment. There were black stuffed animals—a dragon and a bear—on the couch, a black blanket crumpled in the lap of the recliner, a chess set in the corner—both sides black. "How in the world did you get into the business you're in?" And how in the world do you know which piece is yours?

  She took a Beck's Dark out of the fridge, used the edge of the counter to snap the cap off, and took a drink. Her long throat worked thirstily as she sucked it down, and he had to look away. "I took an aptitude test in high school and it came back 'vampire killer.' "

  "You had a mysterious destiny," Eddie guessed, "and fate called upon you."

  "I had a mysterious Poli Sci test," she replied, "and a vampire called upon me. Luckily, my shotgun worked fine."

  "You killed a vampire with a shotgun?"

  "No, shit for brains," she replied kindly. "I made him mad with a shotgun. I killed him with my pasta scoop."

  "Well, I've g
ot to hear the rest of this one," Gregory said, and pulled out a black chair and made himself comfortable.

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 11

  "Do you know what happens to an albino in the wild? It gets eaten. It stands out with its freakish coloring and predators just can't resist. They move in and snap it up."

  "I think I see where you're going with this."

  "Listen, Luke Dorkwalker, I'm not in a sharing mood very often, so shut up and listen, willya?"

  "Sorry."

  "Just… hush up for five seconds, okay? I saved your life, and in return you're gonna be quiet."

  "That doesn't seem—"

  "Eddie."

  "Sorry."

  "I had a perfectly ordinary life. In fact, if I go back there, my perfectly ordinary life is waiting for me. I worked in the cafe to earn money for college; I'm welcome back home anytime.

  "And speaking of college, that's where it all started. It wasn't that I survived a vampire attack and it changed my life. It's that they kept attacking me. The first time, living through it was dumb luck. The second time, I was more pissed than scared."

  "You were probably more pissed than scared the first time, too," Eddie suggested.

  "Shush. There aren't that very many vampires, Eddie. There's lots more of us than there are of them. You've got a better chance of being killed in a plane crash than being attacked by a vampire."

  "I never fly."

  She rubbed her pale eyebrows. "But I've been attacked a bunch of times. It's like I said. I stand out, and they can't resist. The third time, I found out there had been a reward for the vampire that had attacked me. It paid my rent for eight months, and bought my schoolbooks for the year. So I thought, why not survive vampire attacks for a living?"

  "That's it?"

  "That's it."

  "So… it really is just a job."

  "Yep."

  "How'd you get so good at it?" Gregory couldn't help asking.

  "You mean besides years of practice? Look, I understand you guys, okay? I have to stay out of the sun, too… I go outside at noon for five minutes, and I've got a nasty sunburn. I prefer it at night, just like you. My senses have sharpened over the years because of it… like you. I've got shitty day vision but can see well at night. Like you. That's all there is. That's the big secret."

  "Why are you telling me this?" For him, Eddie had disappeared; he was focused only on her. For him, everyone might have disappeared.

  "I—I don't know." She looked frightened for a moment, an expression so fleeting he wondered if it had been wishful thinking on his part. "I really don't."

  Eddie's mouth was moving, but he wasn't saying anything. Oh.

  Yes he was. They just weren't listening. "… nice of you to let us crash here."

  "It's not nice," she replied shortly. "I can't get rid of you for the time being, and I can't let him walk around."

  "You mean to pen me up like a dog?" Gregory asked pleasantly.

  "I don't know what I mean," she muttered, and stomped out of the room.

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 12

  "Checkmate."

  "Shit."

  "Checkmate."

  "Shit."

  "Checkmate."

  "Shit!" She leaped to her feet and kicked over the coffee table. "Son of a bitch!"

  "Hey, keep it down," Eddie said. "I'm watching the Buffy marathon."

  "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

  "Up for another one?" he asked, careful not to smile. From the way she was kicking things around the living room, he guessed not.

  "I don't know what you're getting so mad about," Eddie commented, staring at the screen. "He's got, what? Forty-five years of experience playing?"

  "Forty-nine," he corrected.

  "I hate vampires," she muttered, stalking into the kitchen.

  "Hmm, the mighty vampire killer is a sore loser. Who would have guessed?"

  "Shut up, fangs-for-brains." He could hear her slamming cupboard doors open and closed.

  "Can I have another Zima?" Eddie asked.

  "You didn't have a first Zima. Do they even make Zima anymore?" He heard her sigh. "Gregory, do you want a beer?"

  "I don't drink… beer."

  Eddie chortled.

  "God, God."

  "Don't do that, it hurts my head," he called.

  "That's too bad."

  "What?" Eddie asked. "Saying God? You mean there's finally one thing about the myths that are true?"

  "Apparently so."

  "But how come? I mean, you seem like a really nice guy."

  "Seem like," she called from the other room.

  "You're a comedian when you're not helping bad vampires get staked, for G—for crying out loud. Why shouldn't you be able to, I dunno, say the Lord's Prayer or whatever?"

  Gregory shuddered all over. "I imagine it's an intrinsic part of being a vampire, like needing to drink blood. Can we not talk about it?"

  "Does it mean you're intrinsically evil?" Boo asked, coming back to the living room. She set down her beer and righted the coffee table. Gregory got down on his hands and knees to help her pick up the scattered pieces.

  "You don't go to church," he pointed out, picking up the queen. "Does that mean you're bad?"

  She stared at him, a rook in her fist. "How did you know that?"

  "I didn't," he admitted. "I guessed. I would imagine you're out late on Saturday nights, so you sleep in on Sundays. At least, I always went there on Sunday mornings."

  She blinked. "Tons of good people don't go to church. It's just—their choice, is all."

  "Exactly."

  "So it's a choice issue? Are you arguing that needing to drink blood is—is no different than eating meat?"

  "Meat is murder," Eddie said automatically, clicking past Nickelodeon.

  "Yes."

  "Because that's—that's not the same thing."

  "No?" He smiled at her.

  "No."

  "Yes," Eddie said.

  "Who's talking to you?"

  "Shhhh. I love this part."

  "God, God." She went back into the kitchen.

  Gregory sat down beside Eddie just in time to see the vampire on the screen disappear in a cloud of dust. He snorted. Typical TV fairy tales. Really, they were part of the problem. It wouldn't be so hard to convince Ghost he was a man worthy of her feminine attentions if she hadn't been exposed to…

  Well. That wasn't fair. She'd been attacked, several times by her reckoning. And ridding the world of scum was her job. It was enough to make anyone jaded. He remembered when he was on the BPD and despaired of meeting a woman who wasn't a prostitute, thief, husband-killer, or political fixer. Heck, back then there hadn't been any women cops, even.

  He imagined she had much the same problem.

  * * *

  CH@%!*R 13

  "This should be fine," he said cheerfully.

  She stared at him. "The bathtub."

  "Sure."

  Eddie peeked over her shoulder. "Oh, man, the tub?"

  "He has to," she replied. "There aren't any windows in here. It's either here or under my bed." She gave Gregory a look. "Under my bed isn't an option."

  He tried not to think about her bed. "Really, it'll be fine." He inspected it again. "Is that Comet?"

  "I cleaned house the day before yesterday," she admitted.

  "It does look sparkling and fresh," Eddie said.

  "Just let me borrow a pillow and a blanket and I won't trouble you anymore."

  "If only," she mumbled.

  "I'm not even going to ask if you need a coffin or the soil of your native land," Eddie said.

  "Good," Gregory said in unison with her.

  "This night is just getting weirder and weirder."

  "Tell me about it," she said, leaving to get a pillow.

  "I think he's asleep," Eddie said, ear jammed to the bathroom door.

  "I doubt it. He won't sleep until the sun comes up." Boo checked her watch. "About three hours from now."
r />   "So what's he doing in there?"

  "Reading the Pioneer Press, last time I checked."

  "How do you even have the—never mind, what if he gets hungry and tries to… you know."

  "Then I'll kill him," she said flatly.

  "Just like that?"

  "Just like that." She was making up the sofa bed for him, unfolding crisp, clean black sheets, and Eddie thought—not for the first time—that she was an interesting mix of thoughtful domestic and hardened killer. Just like Grandma!

  "Come on, we've been hanging around him all night. We watched the Buffy marathon together! He made the best sangria I've ever had. He tried out his new stand-up material on us."

  She shivered. "Don't remind me."

  "So how can you treat him like he's one of the bad guys?"

  "Because—he is."

  "Come on, that's like saying the French are cowards, or Polish people are dumb."

  "It's not the same thing," she said, sounding offended. She was tucking in the sheets in savage, economical motions, and he edged away from her a little. "At all."

  "Boo, it's exactly the same thing. Admit it, he hasn't done one bad thing to either one of us."

  "He mojo'd you."

  "For my own good. I mean, I wish he wouldn't have—although it was kind of cool—but he had good reasons. And he hired you to kill Martigan."

  "Territorial," she suggested.

  "Or a really good guy who's using every resource he can—including you—to get a child killer off the streets. You just can't give him a chance because you think he's scum, like the ones you killed."

  She didn't say anything.

  "This is why you're a lone wolf," he guessed. "Roaming the world completing your sacred mission—"

  "Eddie. Please don't."

  "—because you've thought you were all alone. And you have been alone. Except there's someone out there for you… maybe… if you give him a chance. You just have to overlook him being the undead."

  She shook her head.

  "Look, I'm not saying you should, y'know, get married or anything. Just give him a chance."