Down the row, three girls held down a fourth while a john moved to get on top. The fourth girl begged them to stop. Nico put her Id away. She walked across the room and drew out the pulse rod.
Each man she passed she shot, the walloping pulse-blasts exploding. Three johns at the end of the room pulled their trousers up and ran for the entry hall and the front door. When Nico reached the girl being held down, she pulsed the bait girls and flung them away. The rod sputtered and died.
The john on top of the girl struggled to his feet and Nico lifted him. She tossed him against a post. As he moved to get up, she walked over and threw him into the post again, shaking the room, and heard the satisfying snap of bone.
Nico watched the pulsed johns fight to recover, one crawling for the back entrance. The banging against the blank spot in her mind increased.
Why is this familiar? When? Where? Don’t kill, she reminded herself.
She hurled the rod at the crawling john’s head, skimming the side of his skull. He collapsed at the impact, and the girl in the cot sobbed while the children stared. Nico pulled out her Id again. Footage of unknown and forgotten girls and children might not make the news; but the john before her—
She filmed him moaning on the floor with his trousers down at his ankles. He was impeccably groomed, with an expensive Id ring on one hand and perfectly manicured nails.
Smile. I hope you’re as rich as you look.
She typed: Likes it dirty and illegal. The more sordid, the more he enjoys it.
Look at that one, Nicky, her maker whispered, pointing out a man entering a sex club. The more sordid, the more he enjoys it.
She added the note to the footage.
While she sent the recordings to her bus locker, the john reached into his coat pocket with shaky fingers.
“Are you looking for your Viagra?” Nico asked as she sent Chasca Vasquez a message. She kicked him. Tears squeezed out of the john’s shut eyes, and Nico bent down to search his pocket, finding a wallet and a vehicle’s crystal keyblade. She threw the wallet at the girl in the cot, glanced at the keyblade’s rental holo logo, then frowned; she’d heard no vehicles departing.
Nico put away her Id and the keyblade. She rushed out the room and down the entry hall for the open front door, switchblade in hand. Makepeace 1634 stepped into view, weapon pointed.
Nico halted.
“Hello,” she said.
Nico stared into a gun barrel big enough to crawl into. The Makepeace raised one’s left gauntlet and spoke into it.
“Activate,” one said.
The surface of Nico’s skin buzzed as something electric flared to life outside. Beyond 1634, a net pattern glowed in the darkness. The Makepeace had erected a containment barrier around the ranch house, including the vehicles. One’s gun remained pointed at her face.
“Your explanation, potential citizen,” 1634 said.
Nico had read that Makepeaces did not care for prevarication. She gave as short an explanation as possible.
“Sexual trafficking,” she said.
1634 continued to aim for her face.
“And I happened to answer their want ad,” Nico said.
“To do what, potential citizen?”
“To serve drinks; hostess. Just quick money for the night.” Please don’t think I came to join up as an enforcer.
1634 seemed to weigh her answer, then slowly lowered one’s weapon. One moved passed Nico and entered the house.
Nico let out breath and didn’t follow. She stepped outside and looked at the containment field running along the ranch house’s perimeter, emitted from discs embedded in the ground. She looked up, and saw the field arc overhead; she had nowhere to go. Nico appreciated 1634’s effectiveness. Had she time to plan better, she would have trapped everyone in the house with her. But the temptation to beat on the johns and traffickers until they turned into mushy pulp would have been too great. Even breaking a john’s back had been pushing it.
The johns who’d fled sat within another containment circle, their hands up to hide their faces. Nico filmed them, then sent the additional footage to her bus locker and for Vasquez to pick up. Children and girls who weren’t too doped up to walk emerged from the ranch house with 1634’s help. They were all human; none were vampires. Nico looked away and stared into the dark.
The ordeal was over for some; a few might have a home to go back to. The more ruined ones would disappear back into the sex trade, and the cold-eyed girls, especially, would make more girls like themselves. Nico glanced back and saw the bait girls mingling with the others; victims pretending they were still victims, when they were victims become predators.
This yer new friend, Nicky? Her maker held a girl down. Now watch, luv.
Her thoughts slid again, falling off the blank spot in her mind. The veldt’s darkness beyond gave her no ghosts.
“I’ve got nothing,” she said. The little girl she’d broken a john’s back for approached. Someone had dressed her in a man’s tee shirt. She walked up in her bare feet and stared at Bear, her eyes distant and dead. Nico looked elsewhere and wished she’d go away.
When the girl didn’t, Nico reached down. She guided the child to her, and then helped her wrap her arms around herself and Bear. She placed a hand on the child’s back while the cold-eyed girls watched.
Are my eyes like theirs? Or am I feeling something so deep, I don’t know I’m feeling it?
The girl that had been held down shuffled up too, her face streaked with tears, but there was fury present within her anguish. Nico thought that was good. When Nico removed her hand, the little girl dropped her embrace. Nico put her in the girl’s arms.
“Thank you,” the girl said tremulously. She moved to hug Nico too.
“Don’t touch me,” Nico said. “Uh, you...I think you’ll be okay.” She turned away again. The Makepeace stood before her.
“Hi,” Nico said. Her gaze was level with 1634’s pectorals—or breasts. One’s body armour even possessed nipples.
“The ad you answered, please,” 1634 requested. Nico looked for it, then displayed it on her Id. Nico couldn’t tell from 1634’s visor where one’s gaze truly lay, but it seemed to take in the entirety of the ad with one glance. The Makepeace’s head turned, as if listening to something.
Is one sharing it with Tough Guy and the other Makepeaces? Nico wondered. Are they having a conference call about me right now?
“The ad is for human girls,” 1634 said, turning back.
“I thought I’d try anyway,” Nico admitted.
“Did you come intending harm, potential citizen?”
“I—”
Nico stopped; her teeth in someone’s throat. A man’s head bursting open from the tire iron she’d thrown at his skull.
But that didn’t happen.
Her thoughts slipped off into the dark.
“I came...looking for something. And it wasn’t here.”
“You are still seeking the potential citizen, Esche Abram-Angel?”
“Yes.” Of course 1634 would know that.
“You did not come here for her.”
“No,” Nico answered truthfully.
1634 merely looked at her, and then flashed her in the face.
“Oh, god—” Nico covered her eyes. She’d had her vampire’s vision on. Painful spots assailed her. She expected her wrists grabbed and cuffed at any second.
When Nico’s sight cleared, 1634 had turned away, by all appearances not interested in arresting, shooting, or even admonishing her. She wouldn’t mind an admonition if it made 1634 feel better. Nico stood awkwardly.
“Victim services will arrive before the sheriff,” the Makepeace said, and one’s cold tone seemed displeased.
“Maybe the sheriff is over there?” Nico offered, indicating the group of johns who covered their faces. “One of them is wearing those kind of shoes...law enforcement shoes.”
The Makepeace stood, one’s pretty mouth pursed, and Nico was certain one was wishing one had w
erewolves to fight instead of babysitting possible dirty cops. Vehicle lights shone down the dirt road, then stopped before the containment barrier: victim services. 1634 pressed on one’s gauntlet and a small opening formed in the barrier.
“They will see the children home,” 1634 said, as people disembarked and walked through.
“More likely they won’t,” Nico said. “It’s parents and relatives who sell the kids into these things.”
“How do you know this?”
“I don’t know.” A van marked NEWS ALPHA rolled up and stopped behind the other vehicles. The hatch popped opened. “That’s Chasca Vasquez,” Nico noted, anxious. “Can I leave?”
“That one,” 1634 said in reference to Chasca, and one’s silky voice bore a touch of irritation. “You may go.”
***
The keyblade Nico took from the manicured john lit up and activated one of the parked vehicles when she neared them. It looked just like Heloise’s Faering Shearwater.
“Destination,” the onboard BRAI calmly asked when she entered.
“Go to Halo station,” Nico said, wondering if automated driving was as simple as that. The vehicle backed out and headed for the dirt drive. Apparently it was as simple as that. Nico pulled out Dorothy for a quick driving lesson, only to find herself sinking back in the plush seat and sighing. The Makepeace opened a hole in the barrier for her to pass through. Chasca Vasquez stared hard into the tinted glass as Nico’s stolen vehicle drove by, her hands on her hips, while her cameraman captured the entire vehicle.
“I hope Mr Manicured is a prominent figure.” She activated Dorothy to get a brief lesson on vehicle operation.
But when the Faering approached Halo station, another thought occurred: why not save on using her rail pass?
“Go to Jifk Spaceport,” she ordered. “Fastest route.”
The vehicle sped ahead and accessed a flyway for the city wall and beyond. Soon, they were zooming among Again NewYork’s glittering structures, and Nico closed her eyes, both to sleep and avoid the vertigo.
Her Id chimed. Nico reluctantly stirred and looked at the caller’s identification. She answered, and Spec’s holo popped up.
“You are one busy vampire,” Specs said, and then yawned.
“I was just looking for something.”
“Well, the legit girls and boys work downtown, FYI—whenever you decide to take a break from fighting crime. I got done reading the Makepeace’s report. Way to go, Super Nico!”
“I am not super,” Nico snapped.
“Got it. Stupid nickname. You are Lone Nico and Bear. Were you a dark avenger back on Old Earth? And if so, can I have your autograph?”
“No. I was a hotel desk clerk. Nightshift. And I was studying computer science.”
“Right.” Specs nodded. “Mild-mannered. Very secret identity. Are you enjoying being the scary monster now?”
“Can we have this conversation later?” Nico said. “I need to sleep.”
“Gotta have it now, Nick, the Makepeace are waiting.”
“Okay.” Psych evaluation. “Me, being scary. Well, I guess,” Nico said in surprise. “It is kind of nice. But I don’t want to hurt anybody.”
“Really? Because on Darqueworld, you get to be one hundred percent vampire. Without killing innocents and the less-than-innocent. And believe me, you’re not alone in that kind of self-discovery. You should see how the werewolves celebrate when they realise they can let it all hang out. And I mean, do they. So, you don’t want to glorify in bloodbaths and the sucking down of people’s essence?”
“Do I look stupid? I know the rules; I want a future.”
“And that’s exactly what good potential citizens like you should want. But answer the question, please.”
“No. I mean, the answer is no.” I hope not. “I just—”
Blank spot. Her teeth sinking into someone; hot-hot blood spurting.
“I feel I’ve unfinished business,” Nico said.
“Not the missing girl, Esche Abram-Angel? Who the Makepeace are looking for, too.”
“Besides that.”
“You were a vampire for fifteen years, right?” Specs said. “You put a lid on it, tamed it. Now it wants to come out. Whatever you’re looking for, it may be that. So, when you get the more deadly urges, you talk to me. We’re here to help. You like to stalk, right? There’s a dating service for vampires like you. Though it’s more for any Other-being with that certain itch.”
“A service?” Nico said, her voice squeaking. “What itch?”
“The itch to chase something; hunt it. Okay, maybe you need to terrorise it too, before you go in for the kill. But the end result is not killing, it’s sex. Human women are absolutely gaga over this kind of dating, and I cannot fathom it. You like girls, right?”
“Did immigration tell you about my—” Nico said with suspicion.
“Oh yeah. Your predilection for moon cycle worship? There’s a dating service for that too.” Nico’s Id lit up. “Sent you the Stealth Lovers page. You can look up Womb Lovers yourself.”
***
Nico arrived at Jifk Spaceport and sent the stolen Faering back to the ranch house. Inside the terminal for intragalactic flights, where many off-world species were present, Nico booked a sleep-egg nestled among other eggs overseen by an attendant. The large ovoids lay on their sides, comfortably accommodating one humanoid form on a firm, cushioned bed. She could have slept in the vehicle or at a terminal gate, but the indulgence—which took a chunk out of her credit chit—clearly stated to anyone who might be monitoring her traceable activity, where she and Bear presently were. Makepeace or otherwise, they could come find her—and drag her out or attempt to kill her before a filled terminal lobby. Nico took advantage of the complimentary vibronic shower, and then entered her egg for the night. The attendant helped to close her hatch.
“The egg will awaken you at your designated time,” she said. “Pleasant dreams.”
“G’night,” Nico said, arms crossed over Bear, and when the hatch closed, all sound from the terminal cut, and a soothing aural and electric wave motion ran from her head down to her toes, then up again, calming her. Thoughts of 1634 popped up, and reluctantly, those of the ranch house.
She didn’t want to explain to Specs (and, by extension, to the Makepeace) that she wasn’t running about in the night to sow wild vampire oats. She was trying to work out the connection of Esche and trafficking, but most of all, she was committing disruptions as if he could be out there, noticing.
Whatever smelled like him might then make a move.
Until then, she and Bear were refreshed, ready, and—
Safe again.
Nico triggered her switchblade, and then slept.
“Again Friends Youth Hostel,” Dann answered, his holo projection looking as cheerful as his voice.
“Hi. This is Nico Alexikova. Did Esche Abram-Angel come back to the hostel this morning?”
“Who?”
“The vampire I showed you the holo picture of,” Nico said, nearly snarling.
“Oh yeah-yeah. No.”
“Are you sure? Will you check the sign-up sheet? Her name is E-S-C-H-E.”
Paper rustled. “Nope. No Eshah. You’re checking really early. She could walk in later.”
“No one’s claimed her Id, though, right?”
“Yeah-yeah. I mean no-no. It’s still here.”
“And you’ll call me when Esche shows up, right?”
“I sure will Neko.”
“What did you call me—” Nico’s fangs emerged.
“Gotta go. Can I put you down for another night at Again Friends?” Dann said pleasantly. “But I need your signature.”
“Okay, sure,” Nico said, and cut the connection.
She sat, grumpy, in one of the red vinyl seats of the spaceport’s shoe shiner station, getting the scuffmarks expertly buffed from her oxfords. Travellers hurried by while Nico rested her feet in the iron footrests and the shiner worked.
“If
you don’t mind my sayin’,” the shoe shiner said, dabbing polish. The strong, oily scent of blackening rose. “With your cute little fangs, you look like a neko to me.”
“I’m a vampire, not a were-cat. I gave my name as ‘Neekoh’ and he calls me ‘Nehkoh’. He’s looking to get kicked.” Nico made her vampire aspect recede.
“With these spikes?” the shoe shiner grinned, indicating the small spikes studding Nico’s oxfords. “He won’t make that mistake again.”
While the shoe shiner buffed up the leather and then gave the studs attention, Nico summoned the cryptic gun link she’d set aside. She played the Slaughter Spawn holo footage. The recording had been taken in near darkness, the quality grainy and hard to see. But when the witch jumped into the pit and activated in midair, kinetic power warping reality around her, Nico witnessed the harnessed manifestation that was weird matter, detonating instantaneously within the spawn and bursting them apart. Slowing the footage revealed that the blinding fast shots of seeming nothingness exploded from the witch’s warping body-field. Her gaze merely aimed and the shots spiralled from her, ploughing through spawn-matter. Each shot sent a lashing recoil behind the witch, impacting spawn behind her.
Her gun-self boomed. The pit’s walls sprayed debris. The witch herself was the cryptic gun.
“So cool,” Nico breathed.
“Like Hagler versus Hearns,” the shoe shiner commented. “But one hundred times the crazy.”
“She’s so fast.”
“She was a machine. No one knew she was coming to fight. She had no second, nothing. She was Hagler the war machine, bringin’ death poetry inside her. She out-deathed the spawn. That’s how she did it.”
Death poetry. Like the poem carved into her own skin.
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