by John Conroe
“Sssswallow!” she ordered. Dizzy, cold and confused, I did as she commanded, gulping to clear my mouth and throat, even as the thought of AIDs and other diseases crossed my mind. Laying her finger across her lips in the universal sign for silence she turned her head to look at the metal door from the Club. For a second, nothing happened, and then the door slammed free from its hinges, rocketed across the hallway and crunched into the wall.
The corridor was suddenly filled with a large number of very serious vampires.
Vampires. That’s what they were, it was all that they could be. Part of my brain had already added up the individual parts of the equation and arrived at that conclusion And the beautiful young girl in front of me was most certainly one as well. Gramps was right. Damn! He was so going to say he told me so…if I lived.
My sight centered on the big bouncer leading the pack, Vadim. His right arm was cocked back in a punching position, his hand stiff and flat in a spear hand. Dizzy and confused, I idly noted that his fingernails glittered like they were razor sharp. I’ll bet he can jam his hand right through me.
He started forward, but a sharp “Nyet!” sounded from the girl in the crimson stained dress and everyone froze. They were all watching her, with varying degrees of astonishment. The blonde girl in red pushed through along with the waitress, Lydia. Then the whole group parted down the middle and a brown-haired female walked through, taking charge with her presence. She spoke, in what sounded like Russian, to Vadim and the blonde, but it was my black haired friend who answered in the same language, speaking haltingly at first, then faster. Now it was the newcomer’s turn to look shocked, but as the dark haired dancer spoke, some of the males blurred down the hall to the door. The blonde moved up to look at me, stopping a few feet away. I just sat back on the crates, shivering, trying to stay upright. “He’s lost a lot of blood. He needs fluids, like now!” the blonde said.
My vampire stopped her narrative in mid-sentence and spoke again, speech still not smooth.
“Lydiiia?”
“I’m on it.” Lydia replied, zipping out of the corridor.
“Who are you?” questioned the leader, staring holes in me with blue eyes that were much lighter than the dancer’s.
“Chris….Chris Gordon.” I answered, once I was able to remember my name.
“He’s a cop.” Lydia supplied as she reappeared, handing me an open bottle of Gatorade. It was the red kind, which struck me as funny. Oops, did I just chuckle out loud?
“He’s here with some cop friends. I watched him follow some guy who was following Tanya.”
I sipped my Gatorade, thinking about what to tell them while the blonde watched me. The irony wasn’t lost on me. Demons and vampires…what next? Zombies? How much should I tell them, what would they believe? They probably thought I had attacked the girl. What if vampires don’t believe in ghosts and demons? A sudden image of me arguing with blood suckers over proof of the demonic while they fanged me to death. The demons could obviously cloud vampire senses as easily as human senses. Tired, I was so tired. Maybe getting bled out would be a good thing. I wouldn’t have to fight anymore and it wouldn’t be like I was giving up the demon hunting business. The blonde’s eyes widened as I was thinking this and it was suddenly her turn to start speaking in Russian. That was getting really annoying. I’ve always hated when people speak other languages around me. A French-Canadian father and son vet team back home used to do it to me all the time. Assholes.
“Well you people don’t need me for your private conversations, so I’ll just be going.”
I stood up, wobbled a bit, and then started for the door. One of the males moved to block me, snarling. “You go nowhere human blood bag,” he growled.
His fangs were two inches long, his eyes were black from rim to rim. He scared me. I don’t do well with being scared. I started my career in being scared pretty early in life and now it just pisses me off. The memory popped up unbidden.
I was jammed in the hiding space that Marcus had built in the back of his closet. He had shoved me into that space when the stranger had attacked mom and dad downstairs. “Don’t you move Christian! You stay here till it’s clear! No matter what!” He shook me to make his point, the same way he had shaken me when he caught me in his room leafing through his comics. With one last look, my twelve year old big brother picked up his baseball bat from the closet corner, shoved the panel shut and rushed from the room. Huddled on the floor, my hands over my ears to block the awful sounds, I tried not to breathe, not make a sound. Too scared to move.
The silver spike from the dancer’s shoulder was on the ground by my feet. I scooped it up, wiped her blood off on my sleeve and took stock. Dizzy, check. Vision blurry, check. Hands shaky, check. Perfect for taking on a vampire. Good night to die. Be with ya soon mom and dad. I’ve had about enough of this ride, time to get off. Of course, the conversation would be different at the Precinct house.
Hey, did ya hear about Gordon? Sucked to death by a creepy Russian dude!”
“Well, I always knew he was gay!”
Screw it.
“Fuck off, Fang! Why don’t you come over here? I’ll show you where I keep the good silver.” My balance shifted half an inch forward and just like that the black-haired vampire was in front of me, facing the male. A low growl was coming from somewhere. I couldn’t quite place it. The male’s snarl disappeared, replaced by a look of fear, his attention centered on the small girl.
“Enough! Arkady, get the clean-up gear and get rid of this blood. Tanya, calm down. No one will hurt him.”
The female leader never raised her voice but her orders lasered through the tension. The male vanished and Tanya turned to me, the growl cutting off as she examined me curiously. The others looked at me like I was certifiable, not an unreasonable conclusion based on my behavior. The blonde was watching me differently, her eyes wide. Like I had spoken my thoughts out loud. I hadn’t, had I?
“My apologies Officer Gordon.” The leader said. “ Arkady is a trifle overzealous. But where are my manners. I am Galina Demidova; you have met my daughter Tatiana. This is Nika” pointing to the blonde in red. “You have already met Lidya. This is Vadim, our head of security.”
It took a second for the names to register. Galina Demidova, reputed to own more NYC real estate than Trump, but much more secretive. Never any pictures, lots of donations to charities, hospitals and even one to the Police and Firefighter’s Benevolent Association.
And she was a vampire. Then her other words hit me. Daughter? I looked at Tatiana or Tanya or whatever her name was and then her mother. The resemblance was unmistakable. Vampires have daughters?
Nika smirked at me and another thought occurred to me. Can vampires read minds? She smirked again. “Some can,” she said. Great! Can’t keep secrets, can hardly stand up, surrounded by predators. I glanced Heavenward, wondering for the ten thousandth time what I had ever done in this life or the previous one to deserve this.
“So, is your daughter Tatiana or Tanya, I’m confused…more confused.”
“Tatiana is her formal name, Tanya is her short name. Like Jennifer and Jen,” Galina answered. “Officer Gordon, would you be so kind as to tell us what happened here?”
What the Hell, why not. Maybe it would move things along and we could get to the part where I shuffled off this mortal coil. I gave them my narrative of the past ten minutes, although I didn’t mention the part where Tanya stuck her blood covered finger in my mouth. For some reason, I got the impression she wouldn’t want me too. While I talked, I used my shaky right hand to pull my ever-present pencil from my back pocket. It’s always one of those little pencils like you get for scorekeeping at miniature golf. A clipboard hanging nearby gave me both paper and a writing platform. Flipping to the clean back of one piece of paper, I started to draw, not bothering to look at my work.
It’s not necessary for me to look, mainly, because I don’t believe that it’s me doing the drawing when this happens. The pictures just come
on their own, kind of like physic writing, I suppose. Each time I have a vision, a drawing follows, a snapshot from the vision. I finished my story, but was still drawing. The vampires were watching me, openly puzzled, and when the drawing was done I handed it to Tatiana. Even though she had half killed me I liked her best. Maybe they’d let her do the killing. The image was still in my head, as it always would be. It would be graphically cartoonish, with the Helbourne’s eyes overly large and Tatiana’s figure exaggerated. I could recall and ‘draw’ the first vision I ever had. The drawing would be artistically perfect. Myself, I can barely draw a stick figure. Galina and the others moved over to look at the picture in Tatiana’s hands.
“That’s your guy..er..demon. Demon ridden, if you want to get technical. I call them Hellbourne. The body is just a shell.” I was babbling.
“How do you know all this? How can you know all this?” Lydia asked, and then glanced apologetically at Galina, who gave her an exasperated look.
Good question. A real good question. I pondered how to answer, worried about giving away too much. Then it occurred to my foggy brain that it was a moot point, what with the mind reader, Nika, nearby.
“The clergy say that I’m God Touched. Personally, I think He bitch slapped me. We have agreed to disagree on that point.”
“Clergy?” Galina questioned, one eyebrow arched.
“Yeah, well, the various churches come to me for their tougher exorcisms. The prayers and holy water routine doesn’t always work,” I answered.
“And you do?” she asked. At her side, Tatiana was just staring at me, eerily motionless.
“I don’t use their techniques. I’m more of a hands-on kinda guy.” I shrugged. “The entities that make up most possessions are pretty easy to yank out and send back to Hell. Plus I’m nondenominational.”
They all looked at me like I was crazy. Great, a room full of vampires questioning my sanity. After a moment, I continued. “You all seem to be having a lot more trouble believing me than I’m having believing all this.” I waived my hand at all of them and at Tatiana’s blood covered form. Her catlike stare was starting to bother me. I was feeling distinctly mousy.
Galina took in my comment, then abruptly changed direction.
.“I’m afraid we need to ask you for your clothes, as we must burn all of Tatiana’s blood that has been spilled. Nika, please get Tatiana cleaned up. Lydia, would you find Officer Gordon some new clothes?” New clothes? Why did I need clothes at all if they were gonna kill me?
The blonde vampire grabbed Tatiana’s hand, leading her up the hall to another door, marked ‘Dressing Room’. Lydia looked me up and down, ostensibly measuring me for clothes or maybe a coffin, a sardonic grin on her face. The hulking Vadim stepped over to me, holding out a plastic bag for my clothes. I sighed, beginning to empty my pockets. That done, I stripped off my ruined shirt and pants, trying not to fall over, shivering in just my boxer-briefs.
“That’s what it wanted, you know. Her blood.” I nodded at a plastic water bottle lying on the concrete where the Hellbourne had dropped it. Galina and Vadim both started at my words then exchanged a wordless glance. Lydia danced back into the room, mere minutes after leaving, a stack of clothes in hand. “Damn, Northern! Do you live at the gym or what?” she asked, not unfriendly.
I’m only average looking, but my body is not so average. Can’t help it. My grandfather had received custody of me after the death of my family. I lived most of my life on his four hundred-acre farm. First hard farm work, then after my talents appeared, heavy-duty workouts and martial arts training had left their mark on my physique. I was probably twelve the last time I had more than ten percent body fat. Baggy clothes help me to hide my build, as I don’t like to draw attention.
I struggled into the black leather pants that she provided, much to her amusement and was just buttoning the waistband when Tatiana reappeared from the dressing room. Holy shit! She must have taken the world’s fastest shower, as her long black hair lay in a damp twisted rope down her back. She was wearing a blue cutoff tee with the word PINK across the chest. White designer sweats and flip-flops completed the outfit. She looked like a dressed-down rich girl, which actually, she was. I knew I was staring but couldn’t seem to stop. The others took in my expression, and then turned to look at her. Tatiana ignored all of them, her shocking blue eyes locked onto mine.
I had a hard time deciding where to look first. Her exposed mid-rift was ripped; her arms well muscled, as were her legs where her sweats clung to them. She was apparently braless and either cold, if in fact vampires could get cold or excited. But ultimately, I came back to her piercing eyes. They were curious and measuring. Her gliding walk was graceful even by comparison to the other vampires, and she was right in front of me before I could quite gather my thoughts. The smell of lilac and jasmine flowed over me. Her eyes were now locked on my bare chest and after a second I realized the talisman that hung round my neck captivated her.
It was an interesting piece. The arrowhead, made from flint, was probably early Mohawk. I had found it my first week at my Gramp’s farm. The rawhide thong had come from a buck harvested from the farm. The broken eagle feather behind it had its own story. The Mohawk reservation of Akwesasne lies on the U.S./Canada border and comes equipped with a casino. My Gramps has almost no vices, but he does like to play the blackjack tables from time to time. On one of his forays to the casino, we encountered a tribal elder of Gramps’ acquaintance. It was he who identified the arrowhead as Mohawk and after examining both it and me, he had reached into a small leather bag that had hung around his own neck and pulled out the rounded tip of the broken eagle feather. Smelling of pipe tobacco and leather, he had explained that he had found the partial feather and recognized that it was looking for a proper home. While he spoke he fastened the feather behind the arrowhead, making it a both a background for the flint point and a cushion for my eight- year old chest. That necklace had been with me for every demon hunt and banishment that I had ever been on. It had absorbed some of my power each time.
Tatiana reached for it tentatively and as she did an idea occurred to me. Again, I don’t know why it mattered, but for some reason I still felt like I needed to protect her from Hellbourne. In between struggling in and out of various clothes, my dizzy brain had been worrying at the problem of leaving Tatiana unguarded. I was either dead soon, or if the clothes were a sign that I might see the morning then I needed to go home, soon, blood loss making me completely ineffective for fighting Hellbourne. The vampires seemed to be useless at noticing the demon that wanted her blood. The necklace was the answer. While she was holding it, I took the leather thong from around my neck and slowly slipped it over her head, her big blues widening as I did it. Arkady chose that moment to come back down the corridor, three SCUBA-sized tanks strapped together and held effortlessly by one hand, the other hand holding a sprayer wand. “Aww, is cute that we are giving friendship gifts now.” he said sarcastically.
I didn’t look up as I responded, “Well, seeing as the Hellbourne walked within two feet of your blind ass on his way to kill Tatiana, maybe you don’t have a friggin’ clue what you’re talking about?”
“You call me Tanya. Not Tatiana,” the black haired girl said, a bit forcefully.
“Oh, er, sorry, no offense,” I said quickly. I’m so not good with girls.
Lydia spoke up. “She wants you to call her by the name her friends and family use, not her formal name.”
Her meaning was clear: Tanya wanted me to speak to her as a friend. Not dinner. Things might be looking up.
I backed up and examined her with my Sight, which made me even dizzier. She now stood in a sphere of purple-hued light, her own soul and aura blazing brilliant white. Humans tend to shade toward blue and I’m told my own aura is violet in the same shade as my odd eye color. It looked pretty strong, but it occurred to me that I could strengthen it.
“Explain please.” Galina requested, just shy of a command.
“Well, w
hen I banish demons, I give off a lot of …power. Objects made of stone tend to absorb some of that power and sort of store it, like a battery. I usually carry a piece of carved soapstone with me when I exorcise a house or apartment, Indian fetishes. I leave it behind as a protection. If any other demons come around, they will shy away from the stone. They’ve have helped a few people who for one reason or another tend to draw demon kind.”
“Is that arrowhead such a fetish?” she questioned.
“Better. I’ve had it since I was a kid and it’s absorbed some power every time I have kicked Hellbourne ass. Which would be something like, oh about..thirty-seven times or so. Not counting exorcisms.” I answered, still studying the violet sphere. Yes I could definitely up its amperage.
“Why?” Tanya asked. I didn’t understand.
“Er, what?”
“Why do you give it to me?” Her eyes were still wide and, oddly, there was something very vulnerable in them. Vulnerable vampire? I tried to shake it off, but her eyes mesmerized me.
“Well, the demon that wants your blood will be back. If it is during the day tomorrow, I’ll probably be able to nail his ass. But this should protect you, if I’m not here. It will make you invisible to him and it will repel him as well. But I want to boost it if I can. I’ll feel better if it is ramped up a bit more.”
I hesitated. Galina looked at me expectantly and said, “So do it!” Okay, that was definitely a command.
Ah shucks. Stop. Your profuse thanks are embarrassing me. It seems the rich all feel the same sense of entitlement, be they vampire or human. Fucking rich people!
Nika snorted as I thought this and covered her mouth to hide a grin.
“Well, I’m gonna spill a drop of my own blood and I’m just wondering……?”
“Go ahead, we can probably control ourselves.” Galina said sardonically.
I nodded and grabbed my folding knife from the pile of pocket junk and flicked the blade open. After pooling my aura in my right hand, I pricked my trigger finger. I push power out of my right hand and draw power in with my left. The reason for this isn’t clear, but that’s just how it works. I squeezed a fat drop of blood onto the tip and then dabbed it onto the back of the arrowhead. “Ah, that needs to be against your skin, um like under your shirt.” I explained with all the composer of three year old. Tanya tucked it into her shirt, between her breasts, her eyes watching me the whole time. The view momentarily snuffed out my feeble thoughts. I wiped my finger on my pants and tried to ignore the way they all stared. I rechecked the necklace. The purple sphere was now twice as big as before and much denser in color. I don’t see auras like Reiki masters do. No different layers, just solid hues, sometimes with streaks of other colors.