I listened as his car started and left. It was just me and my old stomping grounds.
Chapter 3
I walked slowly through the living room and glanced at where I had taken Orel’s life. Just across from there was where I ate the angel, Grigori.
I rounded the short bar to the kitchen and opened the fridge. I smiled at the bags of O-positive hanging. I pulled one and ripped the corner off. I spat it to the floor, sure that a clean up crew would be in shortly to repair and sanitize the place. I quickly sucked down the blood, felt it course through my body, energizing and satisfying me. I pulled a second one and topped off my tank.
Sitting at the bar, I could see the front door of the house and the hallway leading back to the bedrooms. I waited, hoping, really, that somebody would return to take out the newest vampire enforcer.
I closed my eyes and tried to reach out to whatever it was that gave me the second sight. No luck. Whatever triggers it, it wasn’t cooperating at the moment. I guess it’s more of a reflex than a trait. It just happens and only when it thinks I need it.
I pushed away from the bar and flopped onto the couch. I could still see the doorway and part of the hall, but didn’t have the clear line of sight that I had at the bar. It didn’t matter. It might be a while. The sun would be up soon; I stretched out and hoped that I wouldn’t have to wait here another full day. Surely if the attackers knew that the occupants of this place were blood suckers, that they would only be…of course!
They were waiting until daylight! The vampires would be weakened, sleeping, even. Limited in their movements. Trapped inside the kill zone. I smiled to myself and went room to room turning off the lights. As I turned off the last of them in the dining room I caught the slight hues of red on the eastern horizon. I smiled to myself and returned to the couch.
Whoever came through that door next had better be Laura or a human employee of the council. Otherwise, I’d own them.
* * *
When Laura called to inform me that they’d arrived at the new headquarters without a tail, I told her to stay put. I explained my suspicions and she agreed to leave the ass-kicking to me. I camped out on the couch. I flipped through a few magazines, watched a bit of daytime TV, snacked on another bag of blood, and basically sat there, bored. Waiting was the worst part.
It was about 3:45 in the afternoon when I heard an old engine rattling up to the house. I hopped from the couch and stole a glance out the front windows. Three men were walking toward the front of the house without a care in the world. One was smoking a cigarette; he flicked it into the bushes. The other two were joking about something.
One pulled out a pair of pliers and laughed. The other simply shook his head. “You sure about this? Ain’t that like plucking a snake’s fangs? I mean, can’t they still poison you even after they’re out?”
“Naw, man, that’s a wives’ tale.”
I tucked myself behind the bar and waited. I could hear them arguing outside. Then the front door burst open.
“See? I toldja we didn’t need that ram anymore.” He sounded like a hick.
“You still should have looked for it, man.” This one sounded older and angry.
“Where was I supposed ta look? That damned vamper through it off somewheres,” the hick replied.
“Both of you shut the hell up.” This third one sounded like he was the leader of the trio. “Brian said he saw lights on out here last night. I’ll bet money we’ll find another one right back there, sleeping the day away.”
The dynamic trio walked past the kitchen; I stepped out from behind the bar and slipped in behind them as they marched toward the rear of the house.
“You’d lose that bet.” I spoke low, leaning against the hallway wall, making sure I was in the shadows.
“What the–” The leader spun and brought up a silver blade. I could smell it the moment he unsheathed it.
“Stick him Rog!” the hick goaded from behind.
I uncrossed my arms and pushed off the wall. “You boys have a lot of explaining to do.”
“The fuck we do!” I’m guessing the leader was Rog. He lunged at me, swinging the blade wildly.
I stepped to the side and gripped his arm. I felt the bones in his wrist break, the knife dropped to the floor. His screams sounded less and less like a vampire killer and more like an asshole that would run around kicking dogs then cry when he got bit by one.
I swung him hard into the wall and watched as his shoulder dislocated. He fell to the floor in a whining mess. I wanted to save him for last. The other two turned tail and ran, terrified. I heard the bedroom door slam and lock. I could hear them overturning furniture, trying to make for the window.
I turned around and stepped over Rog. “Don’t you go anywhere, Rog. You and me are gonna have a talk.”
I pushed the front door open and walked around to the side of the house. My timing was spot on. Both men were just scrambling to their feet in the side yard, peering back into the bedroom window.
“Fucker can’t get us out here.” The hick seemed so sure of himself. How they didn’t see me hulking toward them, I can’t understand. It was as if they both had tunnel vision, staring at that window like it was a daytime talk show.
I grabbed one hick by the shoulder and pulled him toward me, snapping his neck before he could get a good yelp out. The other one finally noticed something going on behind him and turned on me.
I grabbed him just as the gun he held went off. I glanced down at the wound in the middle of my belly then gave him a very pissed-off growl.
The man wet himself and whimpered just before I ripped his throat out with my teeth. I spat the wad of cartilage to the side and let him fall to the ground, choking in his own blood.
I could feel my body pushing the projectile out of my midsection. I’m guessing he packed the barrel with a silver neck chain, using the round much like a shotgun or blunderbuss. Thankfully, silver did nothing to me anymore. Had the dumbass used a gold chain, I’d probably be pushing up daisies about now; just one more angelic gift I’d received.
I entered the house again and found Rog still crumpled on the floor. He tried to cradle his broken wrist with his dislocated arm but he found it nearly impossible. It was satisfying to see him in so much pain.
I walked down the hall and stood over him. He tried to turn his face away, his eyes squeezed shut.
I reached down and picked him up by the collar of his jacket and lifted him to my level. He continued to whimper and hold his face away from mine. It was a disgusting display.
“Thanks for sticking around, Rog. Now, about that chat.”
* * *
It took a while for Rog to finally calm down. Using an extension cord, I tied him to one of the few remaining wooden chairs from the dining room. I pulled out a variety of knives and started a tea kettle to boil while I hummed a little tune from my childhood. He had opened one eye; keeping the other squinted closed, he watched as I laid the towels out neatly and stacked different blades on top of them. His eyes went wide open as I filled the tea kettle and placed it on the stove, but he averted them when I pulled another bag of blood from the fridge, using the IV tube much like a straw. In effect, I had an O-positive juice box. I squeezed the bag out into my mouth and made ‘mm-mm’ sounds as I gulped it down. “Deee-lisious. What type are you, Rog?”
“H-how can you be out in daylight?” he finally choked out.
I tossed the bag aside and picked up a little German paring knife. I dragged my thumb across the blade and hissed. “Ooh, that’s sharp.”
I flipped the last remaining dining room chair around and sat in it backwards. I crossed my arms over the back of the chair and stared down at my prey.
“Sorry, Rog. I’m the one asking the questions here.” I flicked the blade out in front of him and waved it side to side. When you are a blood sucking Viking, you don’t need a gigantic knife. I’d always heard that size didn’t matter but never had to question the validity of that statement. “Do I have y
our attention Rog?”
He swallowed hard and nodded.
“Are you comfortable, Rog? Would you like something to drink?” I hooked my thumb over my shoulder. “I have blood and boiling water. Which do you think would feel best sliding down that throat of yours?”
He shook his head nervously. “I-I’m not thirsty. But…thank you for asking, sir.”
I gave him my best evil smile. “Now, Rog…it’s rude to refuse. When your host offers you a drink, you should take them up on it.”
I didn’t think he could get any more pale, but he did. He finally looked at me and nodded. “You had questions? Go ahead. Please, I’d be more than happy to–”
“Blood or water Rog? You know they say blood is thicker than water. Maybe we should wet your whistle first?” I pushed off the chair and grabbed the whistling tea kettle.
“NO!” he shouted so loud I thought his vocal cords might shred. “Please, god, no…”
I set the tea kettle down on the bar beside me and took my seat again. I picked up the knife and he flinched when I pressed it to the flesh just below his left eye. He stopped moving and stared at me, open mouthed. “Should I slice out your eye first? Just so you’d know I’m not fucking around?”
He shook his head. Barely. I’m sure he was afraid the movement would slice his cheek. “Just ask me whatever you want.”
I pulled the knife back and set it next to the tea kettle. “Okay Rog. How many are you?”
He gave me a curious look. “I don’t…”
“How many of you assholes are there? Just the three of you from today or are there others playing this game with you?”
“No. Just us. I swear.” He was starting to get some color back in his face and he began to sweat.
I nodded. “Okay. Let’s say that’s true.” I leaned back and stared at him. “How did you know?”
“Know?”
I frowned. “Don’t play stupid with me Rog. How did you know that the people you killed were vampires?”
“Oh!” he nodded enthusiastically. “We didn’t. I mean, not at first.”
I moved a little too quick and scooped the paring knife from the counter. I held it under his eye again. “I’m not playing with you Rog.” I pressed the tip to his sweaty lower eyelid, just pricking the surface. He sucked in hard, preparing to scream for all he was worth. “Tell me!”
“It was just supposed to be a heist!” He yelled. Then his voice faded to a hoarse whine. “The guy wore a shit ton of gold and bragged about this sweet deal he had. He…he said he worked nights–slept during the day. We followed him home; we were just gonna roll him but he kicked the shit out of Jester and Bob, so…”
“So? So what?”
Rog nodded and swallowed. “We split! Only Jester–he seen his teeth. It scared the shit out of him, and we didn’t believe him. Not at first. And Bob kept going on about how the guy picked him up with one hand–and Bob ain’t little. We started reading up on…well, on vampires.”
I pulled the knife back and leaned back in. “So then what?”
“So then…we made a plan. We watched him. Followed him back home late one night.” He swallowed hard again and looked at me nervously. “Bob, he had this silver letter opener. And Jester stole some liquid silver stuff from work.”
I nodded, egging him on. “Go on.”
“So then Jester pours that crap into the ventilation and them two come in through the bedroom windows. He had this silver crucifix wrapped around his fingers like brass knuckles and I come in from the front.”
“So, you used the ram?”
He nodded. “Got it from an army surplus years ago. We used it on a couple different houses.” He couldn’t swallow any more; I could tell his throat was going dry.
“And then?”
“Then this dude went apeshit crazy on us. He threw the ram at me, but Jester belted him across the back of the head with the silver. Then Bob sliced the guy’s arm. He went down. Hard. His skin was smoking and the cut caught on fire.” Rog began to cry, his face puckering like a wilted flower. “I freaked out. I mean the guy was on fire and screaming and…”
“And?”
He dropped his face and fell into a full on crying fit. I reached out and lifted his face by the chin. “And?”
“And I pulled the letter opener from Bob’s hand and just…just…” I waved him on. He finally took a deep breath and looked into my eyes. “I put him out of his misery!”
“You ashed him.”
Rog nodded then looked away.
* * *
We had another nice, long talk about what they did to the second enforcer. These three morons sacked the place. Apparently, they didn’t get much for the shit-ton of gold the first vampire provided. They wanted more. They, like most fools, returned to the scene of their crime and noted somebody new had moved in. A little peeking through the windows and they were fairly certain it was another vampire. Pale skin, skulking around in the wee hours of the night. Dead giveaway, pardon the pun.
They devised another brilliant plan and soon took care of the second one. They figured out that by melting the silver letter opener, they could plate the blades of their knives. Jester decided that he’d rather pack the crucifix into the barrel of a gun.
After Rog spilled the beans about the second murder, he got the nerve to ask me again how I could move around in daylight. I chose not to enlighten him. He knew I was finished with the questions and started weeping and begging again. I almost felt sorry for the guy. Well, for what he was about to endure. I had my confession, now I put the boiling water and knives to good use. I didn’t try to keep the mess down. The towels I’d laid out were for my own use, not his.
Laura asked me what I did. I didn’t want her to see me as the butcher I was. I didn’t tell her how I cut through his clothing and removed each of his testicles. I didn’t tell her how I made shallow incisions across his midsection and laid his intestines out in his lap.
I didn’t tell her about how I ridiculed him when he pissed himself. Nor did I comment about when he shit himself; though that part was pretty funny. I didn’t tell her about how I pulled his tongue from his mouth and sliced it off. That was a real bleeder, there.
I wasn’t sure how she’d react at my enthusiastic judgement, sentencing, and punishing the guilty Rog. But I felt empowered; righteous, as he screamed when I removed his left eye with my paring knife. He passed out until I had the right eye popped out. I didn’t sever it though. I let it dangle on his cheek so that he could see the thousand tiny cuts I made on his arms and legs; I imagine the perspective was off a bit. I figured these details were best kept to myself.
I’m not sure when he actually died. I was to involved in my work to note the exact moment. Needless to say, I was satisfied that there was no further investigation needed. The three saps stumbled upon the first enforcer and tried to make a quick buck. It wasn’t a vampire hunting group, nor was it a Van Helsing wannabe. It was just pure, dumb luck.
They said nothing to anyone; they wanted the booty for themselves. Anyway, who would have believed them? I mean, come on. Vampires? In the twenty first century? No way. I guess I could have let him go; there was no way he would repeat his mistake. That’s just not my style.
Looking back, I think I took the most pleasure in threatening to turn him. He had already lost his manhood; his intestines were sitting in his lap like a wet mound of warm mush. I had cut his tongue out, and after I shoved a wad of his shirt back into his mouth to keep the screaming and drooling to a minimum, I leaned in close as I held the knife under his eye. “I should turn you now.” He continued to whimper and snot and cry. “You realize how it works, don’t you? If I turn you, you won’t die. You’ll be stuck like this. Forever.”
He actually froze in the chair and stared at me. His head shook back and forth as I held the knife under his eye ball. “Oh yeah. You’d be a nutless, gutless, sliced up piece of shit, but you’d have this unquenchable thirst. You’d be scary looking as hell.” I laughed at
the thought. “Nobody would come near you. And, you’d be starving.” I pressed the blade to his socket and he winced as it dug under the orb. I heard it pop. He tried to scream again but could barely get a breath. He did have the nerve to spray blood all over my arm, so I grabbed the eyeball and squeezed it until it crushed in my grip. It was then that he passed out. I ripped the connective tissue away and tossed it aside.
I went back to work on him. The entire time I kept thinking…what if I did? What would happen if I turned him? Like this? As far as I knew, it had never been done. Usually we only turn those who we’d like to keep around awhile. Oh, a grand majority of his wounds would heal. Most likely, we could shove his innards back in where they would reattach themselves. I wasn’t sure about the tongue since technically it’s a muscle. But he’d never grow another eye. Nor would his nuts reattach. He’d be a redneck eunuch in a modern world.
I paused to reflect. His breathing was shallow and he had lost a lot of blood. I couldn’t be sure that it would take, even if I tried. I gripped the knife tighter and fought the urge to plunge it into his brain. Instead, I plucked his remaining eye and left it hanging from the socket. Somehow, that brought him to.
I pushed the thought of turning him from my mind and set about ending his time on earth. I was growing bored again and wanted to get back to Laura. I used the boiling water to rinse the corpse clean once I had finished filleting him like a fish.
The investigator was relieved that he could close the books on this case. The new enforcer was happy that he could do his job without fear of being slaughtered in his own home. Laura was happy that she didn’t have to babysit him any longer. I was happy that I could return to my new home and put the whole ordeal behind me, another case solved by none other than me.
The only ones not happy with how things turned out were Rog, Jester, and Bob, but I doubted we’d receive any formal complaints.
Hunter 3 : Lost Souls Page 3