Monster Stalker

by Elizabeth Watasin

  Ozzie girl held a blood packet before her.

  “Here you go,” Ozzie girl said. “Cheers, mate.”

  The generic pouch reminded Nico of the awful tomato paste flavoured one from immigration.

  “No thanks,” Nico said.

  “What a face!” Ozzie girl laughed. “It’s not bad. The taste is ace. Well, you’ve got less than a tick to change your mind, ’cause I’m calling down the others.” She smiled and left the room. Nico looked over at broody boy.

  “You should be outside. Dancing at the boys’ bar,” she remarked. “Why are you even here?”

  “Why are you?” he retorted.

  “I’m waiting for someone to come back tonight. Have you seen the boy in the tweed jacket, the one who came from that druid ship?”

  “Tonight? No.” Broody boy tossed the pack he’d sucked dry and started his second one.

  “He found somewhere to go?” Nico asked, and broody boy shrugged.

  Eton boy was reading new arrival pamphlets just yesterday. And he was a splashdown refugee. He had nothing. If Eton boy had found a way to travel on for the Isle with only his Id and credit chit, she wouldn’t mind learning how he’d pulled that off.

  The vampires from the dorms entered, Ozzie girl leading them. While she passed bags to the girls, the scruffy boys grabbed packs and sucked hungrily, their vampire visages present. Nico watched them scrunch down the bags and remembered when she’d first risen. She’d killed many forest animals that night.

  “Saved you two,” Ozzie girl said to her, and held them out.

  “It’s okay. Those guys seemed to need it more than me,” Nico said. Ozzy girl made a humoured noise and shook her head.

  “I don’t know if that’s being noble or just weird. Give it a burl, mates.” She tossed the packs back in the box and two boys snatched them up.

  “Cool, thanks,” one said to Nico.

  “I’m going up,” a girl announced, taking her packs. Her friend followed her out. Danica tossed an empty bag she’d sucked down.

  “Weird hours, but at least the place and blood is free.” She shrugged, then departed, sucking on her second bag.

  “Yeah. And we’re leaving. Thanks for the blood, losers,” a boy declared. His teeth were bloodstained and his friends laughed. They ran out.

  “Oi, y’whackers, ay?” Ozzy girl cried, and followed.

  “They got the right idea.” Nico turned to go as well.

  “There’s nothing wrong with staying here,” broody boy said. Nico stopped to look at him.

  “Are you trying to convince me, or you?” she said.

  “I’m tired of not knowing where I’m going to sleep.” His face darkened. “Ha. Sleep, at night! I never did that before. But Jess makes it work while she’s job hunting.”

  “Who?”

  “Jess—the Canadian girl. The one who just left.”

  “Her? She’s Australian,” Nico said. “Ask her where the dunny is. You don’t look like you’d have a problem finding a place—tonight or the next night.”

  Broody boy smiled, a cute grin that lit his eyes briefly. “Neither do you. Okay, I just want to lay low, all right? That vampire they found in the park. Too much like the Milwaukee Cannibal, you know? Or maybe you don’t. Are you—were you American on Old Earth?”

  “Sort of,” Nico said. “I heard of him. Aren’t you the one who thought it was the spawn?”

  “Well yeah, but then.” He laughed, humourless. “It can be anything now, right? I get to this planet, and—it’s all upside down! Everyone can see us. They know what we are. The underworld is the main world, and what’s under that is actual hell. Darqueworld is crazy.”

  You mean Darqueworld is scary.

  “I gotta go.” Nico left the rec room.

  “Wait,” broody boy called. “Where are you going?”

  “I don’t know. The boys’ bar. One of us should be go-go dancing.”

  She entered the entry hallway. Dann’s booth sat empty again. Nico glanced at the sign-up sheet as she walked by—still no signature from Esche. She pushed the door, and she and Bear smacked into it.

  “Rest time,” the automated voice-over announced. “Rest time.” The hall’s lights dimmed, and then winked out.

  “I cannot—” Nico shoved at the door again. It didn’t budge. “Believe this!” She pushed harder, then gave up. When she pulled her Id out, the time was 21:45.

  “Dorothy, is this the right time?” she demanded.

  “Rest time,” the voice-over repeated.

  Nico looked out at the nighttime street, where people walked, oblivious.

  “Rest time.”

  ***

  When Nico ascended to the third floor, all was pitch-black. Iris chatted, seated on her bed next to Nico’s while the two new girls in beds across the way politely listened. Was Re’shawn present? Nico walked the length of the dorm until the last beds. Paperback girl, tongue-pierced girl, and Sushi Hut girl appeared to be fast asleep on top of their beds. Danica lay still as well, her eyeglasses on her face. Ozzie girl, in the bed across the aisle, did not stir. Re’shawn was not in the dorm. Nico walked back to her bed.

  “So I heard that there are vampires here who have families,” Iris said to her. “I mean, they can have babies together. Can you believe it? They’re called ‘living vampires’ because they’re warm-blooded. I kinda don’t get that. But what if I could have Tex’s baby? That would be so diesel.”

  “Look. You don’t breathe, so I’m betting you can’t. We’re not alive,” Nico said. “We’re nothing but blackness inside. Nothing sprouts there, okay?”

  “You’re mean,” Iris said.

  “Okay, good night you two,” a girl said. A few good nights answered her and then the dorm became still. Nico lay with her shut switchblade held to her chest. She touched Shayla’s bracelet.

  Living vampires. Rubbish. Her thoughts turned to the events of the day and especially to Shayla. But after a while of pleasant revelry, distracting herself with beauty and warmth, a part of her became uneasy, as if something could—

  Something could, what?

  She tried to order her thoughts again, but listened instead, for the sound of soft footfall; of one of the girls, muffled, getting murdered in her bed.

  Nico swallowed, clutching her blade.

  Nicky, her maker said. What’s the matter, luv?

  What’s happening? Nico thought. The other girls slept on, unperturbed by the inexplicable fear assailing her. Her day’s good humour fled before the cool, coffin-dark of the dorm, a sensation colder than shadows. Yet something shadow-like was growing, and Nico wasn’t sure if it dwelled in her, or was outside—

  Nicky, he said. Didn’t ya feel me comin’?

  She rose; Iris didn’t stir. She left the dorm and went downstairs to the boy’s floor to try their bathroom window. When it cracked open, she set to work on the screws, listening for a soft approach from behind.

  Once loosened, she shoved the window hard enough to break the hinges. The windowpane hung, precarious, as she squeezed through.

  “You’re not taking me like you took Esche,” she gasped.

  She dropped for the walk below. Nico looked up and saw Tough Guy standing on the rooftop across the street, the holo board’s advertisement lighting his armoured body.

  “I can’t stay,” she said to him. She turned and fled.

  “Where are you,” she whispered as she ran down the street. “Where.”

  If her maker had taken Esche, he would have made her into little pieces already, left here and there for Nico to find, as if time remained to retrieve Esche alive.

  But her maker was dead. The entire situation—her possible paranoia—it only smelled like him. She needed to go where something like him was and kill it first.

  Traff—trafficking, she thought, feeling the word slide off the blank in her brain.

  And perhaps she was simply grasping at something to do, somewhere to go, just to avoid remaining trapped in one place where a boogeyman
could get her. She couldn’t be like broody boy, trying to use darkness to disappear into, hoping the monsters wouldn’t notice. Only her human self had wanted that, and it hadn’t worked. Her maker had gone into her safe place anyway and snatched her.

  Trafficking.

  Esche.

  She and Bear would get the snatchers first.

  ***

  Employment Opportunity—Girls Only, any kind—full-time hostessing, entertaining, singing, dancing. We reward talent. Earn high pay, overseas and off-world opportunity. Work in the best clubs of the galaxy.

  Either, or. Nico dismissed the ad. It could be trafficking; it could be legit. She sat on a train platform’s bench and perused more such ads on her Id. The snack bag she sucked on came from an Indian food cart. It had a touch of red curry flavour, and she quite liked it. If she found an ad worth investigating, she had the perfect photo to show them.

  Earlier, Nico had Dorothy search inside human social hubs for a girl similar to herself—black hair, pale, white blouse, and cardigan—preferably photographed standing on a train platform at night. The photo she presently possessed was of a girl with a casual, expectant expression, looking fresh and young and not at all like a living-dead, shell-shocked waif.

  Showing up as herself would be a bait-and-switch, but the similarity in outfits and colouring would at least get her through a club door.

  Esche. Trafficking. The strand of connection was faint, but she would work it until she tripped over her missing vampire, alive or dead.

  She sucked on her snack bag until it scrunched. Then she saw a likely kidnapper’s ad:

  Human Girls Only—Needed Immediately—hostesses, dancers, servers for private engagement, immediate pay, one night’s work. Ad expires 3 standard.

  She continued perusing. She still found no suspicious ads asking for vampire girls. She had Dorothy give her background on three clubs downtown that catered to clients with a vampire fetish. Vampire dancers stripped there. Though sleazy, nothing rung Nico’s alarm bells; a background check on the owners seemed to prove they were legit, providing work for those who needed it. Even the endorsements she found in a private discussion page for working, vampire girls did not appear to be from planted sources. However, the ad wanting human girls—

  Nico blew breath. She returned to the likely kidnappers’ ad. The timer had a few hours left.

  She ran through all her choices again as a vampire looking for sex work. She could hit each place and see if Esche was at any of them, enslaved or doing legitimate work. Or—

  Her attention returned to the suspicious ad again.

  “Okay Bear, let’s screw this up,” she grumbled.

  She told the ad she was a recently arrived chrono-immigrant. The ad’s response was immediate.

  Need your visual.

  Nico sent the human girl’s photo.

  Are you bringing a friend?

  No, I’m alone, Nico typed.

  Go to Halo train station, the ad said.

  Do I get the job?

  Automated alerts will direct you where to go, the ad said.

  I’ll be there.

  Nico cut communication and looked up Halo station on the route map. It wasn’t in Again NewYork’s nightclub sector or even in the red light section. The ad was sending her to the veldt outside the walls of the city.

  She discarded her snack bag and boarded the Sixteen for Halo. While she tidied her virtual bus locker, she watched guerilla footage of duelling witches shooting cryptic guns. After the tenth amateur recording, Nico was disappointed. She didn’t think women making exaggerated gestures where light beams or fireballs left their hands looked terribly authentic.

  “So disco,” Nico said.

  Though the cryptic gun was a secret, weird matter weapon wielded only by witches, Nico wanted to see one in action. She opened a news tidbit in curiosity:

  Witch Wins Slaughter Spawn Using Cryptic Gun

  “Wow,” Nico said, but before she could read it, the train’s male voice-over spoke.

  “Now approaching Halo station,” he announced.

  When Nico stepped on to the outdoor platform, she could smell the unseen veldt, its cool air pure and invigorating. Something primal in her responded, and she felt her fangs emerge. A cue lit her Id.

  Take 167 bus to Ravineto Junction.

  Nico put her vampire aspect away and descended. The cues reminded her of her maker’s own notes, left in her things to prompt her to come to him. One envelope had contained her cat’s collar.

  Nico found the bus waiting at the deserted kerb, lit by one streetlight. She boarded, the lone passenger. No driver was present. The automated vehicle departed, its interior dark, and Nico took a seat in the middle of the bus. She looked out at the forlorn buildings of a poor, nondescript settlement, sitting in pitch-darkness.

  Ravineto Junction consisted of a lit fuel station, the business closed, and the bus stopped itself behind a parked van. A man in jeans and jacket stood by the open hatch, checking his Id. He looked up at Nico within the bus, then at his Id again. Then he summoned a big grin, waved, and approached as the bus door opened.

  Nico rose, and when the man boarded she could smell his sweat; hear his breath. She gripped the back of a seat, feinting anxiousness.

  “Hey,” the man said as he approached. “Glad you could make it. We got a trip ahead of us. Are you thirsty?” He held out a water bottle.

  Nico accepted. Then she grabbed him.

  She threw him to the front of the bus. He landed and struck his head. As he groaned, she walked up, kicked him down the bus steps to the walk, and when he tried to crawl away, she jumped on him, both feet planted between his shoulders. His nose smashed into the concrete. Nico flipped him over, opened the water bottle, and squeezed his mouth open.

  “No—gurgh—” the man sputtered, but Nico continued to force water into his mouth until his eyes rolled back.

  Guess roofies work the same here as on Old Earth. She dragged him to the van’s open hatch and tossed him in. Nico drew her switchblade.

  A look inside revealed no one hiding in wait. An inert girl lay on a seat, her bare legs askew in the aisle. Her slacks and underwear lay tossed on the van floor. Nico sighed and threw the unconscious man towards the driver’s seat. She followed.

  “Great,” Nico whispered when she saw the van’s single steering wheel and darkened dash. She’d forgotten that she didn’t know how to drive on Darqueworld. She went to bring the hatch down. As it clicked shut, the van started and began driving.

  Nico looked at the vehicle’s front, where the activated holographic interface flashed of its own accord for its preprogrammed destination. Nico picked up the girl’s underwear and slacks and dressed her. The girl’s hand flopped, revealing well kept nails. Her clothes also seemed nice, and hardly the style of a runaway. Perhaps some lure posing as a new friend or potential boyfriend had betrayed her.

  “Help,” the girl slurred.

  “You’re going to be okay,” Nico said, as she finished fastening the girl’s slacks. The van’s wheels hit a dirt road and Nico spied into the darkness with her vampire’s vision. They’d entered a drive surrounded by the twisted veldt trees. The remote ranch house in the distance had its windows boarded shut: a stash house.

  Nico counted the parked vehicles as the van rolled for the back of the house, and estimated six or more johns inside. She placed Mr Bear on the van’s floor, popped the hatch open, and then pressed herself against the van’s wall by the opening. When the van came to a stop, a few yards from the darkened back entrance, a man stood watching. His boots crunched in the dirt as he came to investigate.

  “What’s going on?” he said, as he poked his head in.

  Nico took a good look at him: vampire. He reached for Mr Bear.

  “You picked up another ki—”

  Nico grabbed the back of the vampire’s head and slammed him face first into the van’s floor. She brought her switchblade down and stabbed him at the base of his skull, severing the ne
rves of his C-1 vertebrae. The vampire’s body flopped and stilled, his ability to move destroyed.

  No more words for you. Nico pulled the rest of him in, his eyes desperately blinking.

  Another man stepped out the darkened door, lighting a cigarette while Nico secured Bear in his harness again. When he looked in the van’s direction, she stumbled out.

  “Oh my god, oh my god,” Nico uttered, reeling.

  “Hey,” the man said sharply, walking towards her. He breathed, his scent hot and sour. “Get over he—”

  She drove her fist into his jaw, breaking it, then took hold of him and rammed her knee into his groin. He rose a foot into the air. When he hit the ground, curling, he still hadn’t lost consciousness.

  Nico stepped on his neck and pulled a thick, short rod from his back pocket. It had one trigger button. She lifted her foot and pressed the rod into the man, activating it. He arched from a direct pulse strike, and his urine scented the air.

  Pulse rod in hand, she ran for the open back entrance. A girl emerged, and Nico stepped into the house’s shadow. The human girl appeared no older than sixteen and squinted, nearsighted.

  Bait girl, Nico thought, spying the girl’s cold regard; a broken girl used to lure more girls.

  “What’s going on?” the bait girl called. Behind her, far within the house, another girl cried, pleading for someone to stop.

  Nico’s thoughts slid against the blankness in her head.

  I think I found you.

  She stepped in front of the girl.

  “Hi,” Nico said.

  She slapped her hand against the girl’s mouth, silencing her. The pulse rod in her hand sounded, and Nico’s fangs broke out.

  ***

  Nico stood in a darkened room’s deeper shadows and gazed down a row of cots where drugged human girls and wide-awake children lay, her thoughts banging against the blank spot in her mind. One of her hands clapped the mouth of a john straddling a child while she filmed the room, her Id set for nighttime recording. She waited for the tranquilliser mint she’d forced him to swallow to take effect. The little girl beneath him stared up at her. When he stopped clawing at her hand, she hauled him off the cot, dropped him to the floor, and then pressed her shoe’s heel into his lower back. A loud pop sounded while the child leaned over the cot and looked on. Nico continued to record the room’s activity.