Embracing the Shadows

by Gavin Green

  Finally, I checked out my underground apartment. There'd never been any plans made for it that I knew of, so it was left up to Ed. A plain door in the main-level conference room led to a large metal one five feet in. It required a pass-card and a code to open. That led to a wide cement staircase going down at least twenty steps to another big metal door at the bottom. There was also a video camera at each door. Once past the second card swipe and key-code, I was in my new place.

  It was still bare bones - unpainted cement walls and a pile of new furniture in the large living room - but I liked it. There was more space than I expected, and more rooms than I knew what to do with. I wanted an office and a spare room for guests. Those were covered, with a few rooms to spare.

  I drove back to the thunderdome in a good mood. On the way home, I thought of the next Gathering and what I planned to do there. I hoped to arrange a number of meetings with Tomasino and a few others - maybe the faction emissaries - where I'd bring a couple of Viggo's hoarded hemos. Although they'd be bound to me when I woke 'em with my blood, I had no intention of keeping it that way.

  The effects of the unavoidable blood-binding would wear off in a month or so, and the formerly staked hemos would be free . . . albeit with a debt. Once revived, they'd be made aware that they owed me big time, and then were free to go. I planned to wake one or two at a time, spreading it out to give me time to refill my tanks. The details obviously weren't worked out yet, but I felt pretty confident that Tomasino and the emissaries would go along with it.

  The main thing was, I'd be distinguishing myself from Viggo and trying to compensate for his crimes. If it mended some fences in the meantime, I couldn't complain. Another bonus was the fact that big favors would be owed to me. Hemos were heavily into holding debts over each other's heads, although even a life-debt didn't mean shit if there weren't witnesses. Viggo's way was just wrong - he played his own game. I was going to play the hemo game, and start out with a stacked deck.

  Opening the door from the garage, I expected Thunder to be lying there in the hallway waiting for me like he normally did. The other strange thing I noticed was the glow on the stairs from an upstairs light. The only light I left on before leaving was in the kitchen. Needless to say, I got tense.

  9mm in hand, I crept down the hallway. I spun into the kitchen. Empty. Since the stairs creaked, I just raced up them. The second story rooms were dark except for the lounge, where two of the lamps were on. I swung my gun into the room, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

  Thunder was asleep on the far end of the couch. Like most cats, he was a light sleeper, so seeing him lying there breathing deeply as his tail twitched from a dream was weird. I'd also never seen him sleep on the couch before, so something was definitely off.

  Strangest of all, I felt a breeze as I stood there in the entry to the lounge. Yeah, a breeze - inside my place where the windows didn't fucking open. I turned, looked up, and saw a big hole in the ceiling. The half-moon was just visible from my angle. The hole was roughly circular, but with clean edges. There wasn't any drywall on the hall floor. I was confused as well as paranoid.

  And then a pair of glowing, lava-orange eyes came into view at the end of the dark hallway. Shit.

  BLOOD

  "Surprise, surprise, Mr. Beck," Jack Fletcher growled from the far end of the hallway. "Since I'll be eating your soul in a moment, I suppose we can do away with formalities . . . Leo."

  "Yeah, I guess we can, Jack," I managed to reply, even though my mind was spinning with questions. I was always careful about being tailed. Did he somehow track me anyway? Did someone sell me out? The list of who could've was short, very short. I didn't have time to mull it over right then - I had a hemo to piss off. He was already angry, but I needed him over the edge. That's where mistakes are made.

  "Just so I know," I asked, thinking of how to get to my other guns in the bedroom, "why are you here? Is it because your boy Declan went out screaming like a girl and got turned into separate little piles of dust? Or maybe it's because Viggo made you look like a trouble-making little bitch in front of everyone? Either way, you know he'd kick your ass in a heartbeat, so you come after me instead, right? What a fucking coward you are."

  "Your sire can't save you now, and I tire of your weak chatter," Fletcher said as his eyes lowered, telling me he was crouching to charge. There was no time to wonder if he knew Viggo was gone or if he just planned to finish me quick. In a sudden rush, the burly Outsider came at me with those damn claws.

  I was the taller of us, but Fletcher had more mass. He planned to use it to either smash me back into the lounge, or jam his claws into my chest. Neither sounded good. I knew from experience that hemo claw wounds were much harder to heal. I guessed it was a supernatural weapon thing. I hadn't asked.

  I emptied my Glock into him as he barreled forward. The bullets stood him up straighter, but he hardly lost any momentum. I dropped a split second before Fletcher got to me and used my head and shoulder to take his legs out from under him. He tumbled over and past me into the lounge. The collision with some of the furniture finally woke Thunder, who came running past me out of the room.

  I backed up to the door of my bedroom as Fletcher quickly got back to his feet like an animal. As fast as I was, there still wasn't enough time for me to get my Super Shorty and load it before the bastard was on me again. I was quicker, and most likely stronger, but he had those damn claws and was the toughest son of a bitch (except for Viggo) that I'd ever seen. I needed to create some space.

  Closer than before, Fletcher stood at the entry to the lounge with his back slightly hunched. He glared at me, ready to pounce. "You act like you're the one with the advantage, asshole," I said. "I'm just waiting for you to make another stupid move."

  "Keep running away, scared rabbit," Fletcher countered while he took two slow, prowling steps forward and ripped off his tattered shirt. "Your blood will taste sweeter from the effort."

  "Come on then, prick. I don't have all night." Yeah, big talk; I was in deep shit.

  Fletcher lunged forward, swinging a vicious set of claws. Reacting on instinct, I caught his arm at the wrist. He was a little surprised that I stopped his attack cold, so I took advantage of the moment. A front kick sent him reeling back against the banister. I rushed forward to press the attack and planted my boot in his chest with a running side kick.

  I meant to knock Fletcher over the banister and onto the lower half of the split-level stairs. I forgot my strength, though, and sent him through it instead. Wood went flying as he rocketed backwards. He slammed into the wall of the stairwell and tumbled down the last few steps to the first floor.

  There was no pause; I heard movement as soon as Fletcher went out of view. Just as I began to wonder what condition he was in, I heard him say, "Are you coming down, or am I coming back up?"

  Fuck, he was tough. I ran into the bedroom and grabbed my Super Shorty from its case. I heard the stairs creak as I loaded the mini-cannon with whatever shells were handy. When I spun, he was coming at me again. With time for only one shot, I aimed high. Buckshot ripped into the right side of Fletcher's face at point-blank range. The compact spray cratered his cheek and ruined his right eye.

  The force of the deafening blast sent Fletcher back against a wall. The bastard didn't go down. I guess that fact rattled me, because he managed to lurch forward and swing again. He was too far away to hit me, but his claws sliced two holes in the outstretched barrel of my gun.

  Useless as a firearm, I swung the gun like a short club and dented the side of his head. The hit spun him, and he fell away from me to his hands and knees. I grabbed my combat knife with every intention of cutting the bastard's head off. Yanking his head up from behind with my left hand, I reached around with the blade and slashed.

  There was no sense of penetration, no piercing of flesh. Fletcher chuckled - yeah, chuckled - and then raked his claws through the muscles of my right forearm. Blood gushed and muscles were severed. Shit, I just lost use of my
right hand. And worse than that, it fucking hurt.

  The knife fell out of my twitching hand, so I took a step back and kneed him in the back of the head before he could turn around. Fletcher went down flat and slid a few feet on the hardwood floor, but immediately started to get back up.

  Ignoring the blood pouring out of my burning forearm, I stepped forward and snapped a jab into his smiling mouth. My knuckles broke one of extended incisors. Fletcher blinked once, smiled again, and swung an open backhand. I ducked under it, stepping to the side. Two hard hooks to the gut made him buckle, but not enough. He got hold of my shirt and yanked me in close.

  Stupidly, I went with the motion and head-butted Fletcher in his face - a grisly face that had already begun to heal. He head-butted me right back. I pulled his hand off me and stepped back to clear my vision. He swung again. I stepped out into the hallway to dodge the claws, but one of them ripped through my shirt and across my right shoulder.

  My straight left to Fletcher's bloody eye socket didn't have much leverage to it, but it still managed to make him stumble back a few steps. "Is that all you got, you little bitch?" I taunted, hoping to make him attack wildly again so I could take advantage of it. My wish was granted, sort of.

  Fletcher charged again. As he came in close, I leaned to my right and caught one of his reaching arms. I spun with the raging hemo's momentum and hip-tossed him toward the staircase. The tenacious fucker grabbed my arm as I flung him, and we both flew over the edge.

  I hadn't really tested my exerted strength, but I knew it was disproportionate to my body. Well, I just had my first test. My focused power was enough to send two good-sized men hurling through the air. Unfortunately, I was one of them. Fletcher and I smashed down onto the lower case of the stairs, which was cement under the wood planks. The impact made us lose our grip on each other. We both tumbled out onto the first floor a few paces apart. I was next to my office door, and he was near the kitchen.

  I'll admit it, I was hurting. The claw wounds wouldn't close, so my upper right side was blood-soaked. Landing hard on those damn stairs screwed up my left knee. My blood loss was sapping my strength. Looking at Fletcher as we both stood, though . . . He wasn't doing too great, either. His face had stopped healing and was still pretty gruesome, he was pale as a sheet, and he was favoring his left side where I'd driven two hooks into his ribs. I think my greater progeny was keeping me in the fight.

  Wanting to finish one way or another, I was the one who charged forward that time. A flying knee to the chest slammed Fletcher back into the doorway of the kitchen. He rolled to his left and stumbled into the lit room. I quickly followed. He was waiting for me.

  Both of his hands latched onto my shirt as I ran in. He used my speed to slam me to the floor, and was on top of me before I could spin away. Our legs struggled for position while I held one of his arms at bay; my fucked up right arm could only block incoming swings. After one claw managed to stab me in the chest, I was able to pin that arm down against his thigh. That's when Fletcher gave a broken-tooth grin, opened his mouth wide for a bite, and leaned his head down toward my face.

  We both heard a gasp. Fletcher looked over his shoulder, and I leaned my head to one side to see who the surprise visitor was. At that moment, I thought any interruption was welcome. I was wrong.

  " . . . Leo?" asked a soft, trembling voice. At the entry to the kitchen was my doe-eyed sister Clara.

  SISTER

  Frozen in place by shock and fear, Clara stood there with a couple Disney DVDs clutched to her chest. She'd innocently come into danger, and I was going to have one hell of a time keeping my promise to watch out for her. In a panic, I yelled, "Run, Clara! Get outta here!"

  Fletcher sprung off me like an animal and raced the few steps over to her while I scrambled to my feet. He grabbed her by the neck and lifted as he spun, pinning her back to his chest. Holding the terrified girl against him, he pressed his free hand of claws against her poncho and then smiled at me. "Ah, and who do we have here? Clara, is it?"

  "She isn't part of this, Jack," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "You only came here for me."

  "Oh, but I can't let an unexpected gift like this pass me by, Leo. I can tell that this fresh young thing is important to you, just as Declan was to me. Now you can know my anguish before I put you down once and for all." Fletcher sniffed her ear and added, "I sense old blood in little Clara. Perhaps it'll taste as sweet as yours."

  From out of the dark hallway, Thunder suddenly landed on Fletcher's head. Screeching like a feral beast, my awesome cat clawed at his face. Roaring in surprise, the elder Outsider flung Clara by her neck across the kitchen. I saw blood as she was tossed away, so the claws must've sliced at her throat. Thunder was knocked away a second later, but it was all the opening I needed.

  With my last reserves of energy, I laid into the bastard with my good limbs. My right boot to the side of Fletcher's head drove him sideways into the near wall. He bounced back and thrust his claws at me, but his swing was sloppy. I dodged, grabbed his arm as I spun my back to him, and broke his elbow over my shoulder. I drove my own elbow backward into his stomach, then turned and threw an uppercut into his exposed armpit. The punch to the nerve cluster there made him crumple to the floor. I shoved Fletcher the rest of the way down and stomped on the side of his neck. He didn't move.

  I was about to go get one of the broken banister spindles from out in the hallway to jam into Fletcher's heart, but dizziness made me stumble. I was out of gas. Hell, the room was dimming from my wavering consciousness. I took a few steps and put my hand to a wall for support.

  And then the hamstring of my right leg flared with almost unbearable pain. Fletcher had dragged himself the few feet to reach me and buried his claws in the back of my leg. I went down yelling and slumped against the floorboard.

  "Now, before I finish you," Fletcher said with labored breath as he struggled to stand, "you get to watch me slice your little friend into bloody ribbons. It's only fair, don't you think?" He turned toward the kitchen cabinets where he'd thrown my sister. "Say goodbye to Leo, Clara."

  The room dimmed even more. That time I knew it wasn't failing eyesight, because the resulting gloom began to gather and spin. Following the shadows was a swirling breeze that quickly turned into a strong wind. I looked over to Clara, but I only saw a monster in a purple poncho. With a harsh, booming voice, she said, "My name is Vivian!"

  The wind intensified, focusing on Fletcher. Strips of the abyss began adding in to the mix of airborne napkins, splinters of wood, and cat food. Weak on his feet, Fletcher was buffeted backward. Then, like they were sucked in by a tornado, those black strips converged around his neck.

  I thought the strips were going to be used to choke him, like I basically had done to a streetlamp. Instead of constricting, though, Clara/Vivian used them to open a void - with Fletcher's neck in the middle.

  He didn't even have time to fully reach up and claw at the darkness circling just under his chin. Trying to tear it off him would've been useless anyway. With a primal scream, my sister closed the void.

  Fletcher stood there motionless, his long hair wafting in the dying wind, and with a thin layer of his neck gone. His fading orange eyes opened wide before his head tumbled off his shoulders.

  Only a second after Fletcher's head and body fell to the floor, they turned to dust and were swept around the room from the last of the breeze. I dropped my forehead to the floor from both pain and relief. Less than a minute later, I felt a small hand in my hair. "Leo, are you okay?" Clara softly asked.

  I looked up and saw the same cute face I was used to. She had a dish towel pressed to her neck, and a worried look in her big, dark eyes. "Yeah, I'm okay," I lied. "Are you?"

  "I'll be alright," she replied with a shrug. "Maybe we should eat something. I'll call some rats."

  "Yeah, that'd be great," I said as I propped myself against the wall. Thunder quietly padded back in and settled himself next to me. He deserved pampering from then on.r />
  "I hope Thunder doesn't eat them all," she added with a small smile, acting as if she'd forgotten what just happened. Clara then picked up something next to me; it was one of the DVDs she brought. "After we eat, will you come watch this with me?" she asked. "Some parts are kinda scary."

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