by M. D. Massey
He stood abruptly. “Meet me at the Vaughan statue two hours before sunrise.” He turned on his heel and headed toward the counter, but paused mid-step to address me over his shoulder. “I know I probably don’t need to say this, but dress to impress.”
I figured that meant I should come in my full battle-rattle. I nodded, then turned my attention back to my drink and the last few morsels of croissant on my plate. Just as I was finishing up, a perky five-foot-nothing Hispanic girl with a devilish gleam in her eye plopped down across from me.
Belladonna leaned in and snagged my drink away from me, taking the last few sips and setting it down. She licked her lips and smiled demurely.
“Heya, loverboy. Miss me?”
“Hi, Bells. Honestly, you’re a bit hard to miss in that outfit.”
Belladonna always dressed to kill, literally and figuratively. Today’s outfit consisted of knee boots over skintight jeans that were missing a few inches of material along the side seams. In place of that material, they’d been laced up with some sort of leather string, like a corset.
Over that, she wore an oversized Joan Jett concert t-shirt that had been artfully sliced, tied, and otherwise rearranged so it showed more skin that it covered. Underneath, a black and red lace bra peeked out. A black leather biker jacket made the whole getup a lot less scandalous, serving double-duty in concealing the arsenal of weapons she always carried.
She sat up straighter, reaching out to run a finger down the back of my hand. “Why, Colin, thank you. I do believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”
I shrugged. “Just stating facts. What brings you looking for me this morning?”
She leaned away from me in her chair, throwing an arm over its back as she crossed her legs. The whole pose looked damned uncomfortable to me, but somehow she made it look casual.
“Who says I came looking for you? Maybe I was just here to grab some coffee and happened to see you sitting by your lonesome.”
“One, because you’re never up this early. And two, because you look like the cat who ate the canary. You going to tell me what’s up, or not?”
“I can never fool you, Colin. And I really don’t have to, do I? That’s what I’ve always liked about you.” She uncrossed her legs and leaned in. “Rumor has it you made Jackson and Collins look like a couple of fools. Rumor also has it there’s a bounty pool running, with the kitty going to the first team that teaches you a lesson.”
“Yeah? And how does your partner feel about that?”
“Oh, he hates your guts. I think he kicked in a double-share, just for the hell of it.”
I smiled. “Or maybe because his partner refused to participate.”
“Maybe. But he still hates your guts.”
“The feeling is mutual. You can tell him I said so.”
“I will. It’ll drive him nuts that I ran into you.” Bells was kind of sort of dating her partner, Crowley. Unofficially, of course. What she saw in the guy was beyond me, but for now it was keeping her from making the full court press on me. I wasn’t quite ready for a relationship yet, so I wasn’t complaining.
She stood, placing her hands on the table and leaning over me, uncomfortably close as she whispered in my ear. “There’s also some chatter about a missing werebear and witch. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”
Man, news traveled fast. The last thing I wanted was to be pegged for killing Cade, because I did not need a vengeful deity hunting my ass. No way was I fessing up to that mess.
“Nope, not a thing. First I’ve heard of it.”
Her lips brushed my cheek as she stood, and I suppressed an involuntary shiver. I’d be suppressing other things as well if she did that again.
“Well, that’s good, I suppose. But you would tell me if you got back in the game again, right?”
“I would, most definitely.”
She slapped me playfully on the cheek—once, twice.
“Liar.”
I watched her leave and sighed. Heartbroken or not, I had to admit the girl knew how to get a guy’s motor running. I shook it off, then set my mind on planning for the night’s events.
18
Stevie Ray Vaughan was a local legend here in the state capital, and even though he’d actually been from Dallas, he’d made his bones on the Austin music scene. That made him an adopted son of the city, which was why locals had decided to memorialize his life and passing in art. As perhaps the finest modern blues guitarist of his time, he certainly deserved the recognition.
Unfortunately, the bronze statue that had been commissioned to memorialize him was ugly as all hell. In my opinion, it failed to capture the energy and enthusiasm that SRV had displayed in every musical performance. But since it had become a popular tourist stop and a beloved city landmark, the chances that he’d get a statue that more accurately depicted his likeness were slim to none.
I sighed as I walked past it, because the man deserved better.
I’d already decided to wait for Luther from a concealed place nearby. The memorial was located along a popular hike and bike trail at Auditorium Shores, or whatever the hell they were calling it now. Even at this late hour—or early hour, depending on how you looked at it—there was traffic on the pathways.
I’d tucked all my gear away and out of sight inside my Craneskin Bag, but I wore a complete set of motorcycle leathers and steel-toed combat boots. The getup didn’t exactly allow me to blend into my environment, so I headed off the trail to a stand of trees nearby.
“You don’t care for the statue?”
Luther’s voice came from behind, startling me. I’d already cast a night vision cantrip and made sure I was alone before settling in to wait. There wasn’t much cover here, only a lot of shadow, and he hadn’t made a single sound to tip me off to his arrival. To say I was surprised that he’d snuck up on me would have been an understatement.
I played it off, even though I knew he’d seen me jump. “I get what the artist was trying to do. But I think he should have reversed the images. The statue should be rocking out, and the shadow should be in repose. But then again, what do I know about art?”
The vamp walked up beside me and gazed across the lawn at the statue. “I knew him. He was a good man, after he got sober. Really loved his fans.”
I glanced at Luther out of the corner of my eye. “You a blues fan?”
He smiled. “From the very beginning.” In an instant, his expression and voice grew hard and serious. “Now, tell me about this vampire who has the audacity to hunt in my city.”
“Goes by the name of Rafael. The witch I killed claimed that he was her maker. Also insinuated that he was older than sex. And I believe she provided him with a glamour to conceal his appearance.”
“Interesting. And his lair?”
I pointed downriver, along the shoreline toward the east. “She said I’d find him ‘where the night creatures took shelter,’ or something to that effect. The only thing that came to mind was the bat colony under the Congress Avenue Bridge.”
“If he can take the form of a bat, then he must be old.” Luther stroked his chin as he contemplated the information. “Our primary challenge will be to conclude this situation without drawing public attention. There’s a hotel on the south shore between First Street and Congress. I’ll issue a challenge to Rafael and draw him to that location. You will go to the roof and remain hidden until my signal, at which time you will join the battle.”
“I can do that. What’s the plan?”
“If this vampire is as old as I think he is, my natural weapons will not be enough to kill him. Silver and fire will be required. I can wield neither without risking damage to myself, which is where you come in. He’ll likely outmatch me in every category but speed. There, I should have the advantage. Once I get him on the defensive, come in and help me finish the job.”
“Sounds simple enough. Give me fifteen minutes to get to the rooftop.”
“You’ll need to be th
ere in ten. Be ready.” With that, Luther walked off into the shadows. His retreating form melted into the night and dissipated like mist. And like that, he was just gone.
“So that’s how he snuck up on me,” I muttered as I headed off at a jog for the hotel Luther had referenced. “I really need to get better at using magic.”
Sneaking into the hotel was a piece of cake, and getting up to the roof was simply a matter of magically picking the lock on the roof access door. I spent a minute scoping the place out and then hid under an old tarp behind some HVAC equipment, making sure I had a clear view of most of the roof.
Moments later, Luther walked out of the shadows and strolled to the center of the rooftop. One moment he wasn’t there, and the next he was. Whether he was transforming into mist and floating from place to place, using illusory magic and vampire speed to conceal himself, or teleporting from shadow to shadow, I couldn’t tell. What I did know was that it was damned impressive, and it made me wonder what tricks Rafael might also have up his sleeve.
Luther stood in the open, arms crossed and waiting. No more than a minute later, a swarm of bats flew down from the night sky. Right before my eyes, they coalesced into the shape of a man. A heartbeat later, they transformed from a dark cluster of wings and fur into a flesh and blood person.
Rafael.
I’m a little out of my depth, I thought. Maybe more than a little.
I checked to make sure my weapons were close at hand. I had my pistol holstered on my hip, loaded with silver-tipped bullets and tracers. I had a shoulder harness filled with silver blades and spikes. I had my silver-inlaid short sword at my hip, and a crossbow loaded with a silver-tipped bolt at my feet. And I had a couple of homemade napalm bombs in my bag—but because Luther was just as vulnerable to fire, they’d be a last resort. The only thing I didn’t have was garlic and a cross. In my experience, neither had much effect on vamps, other than giving them a good laugh.
Satisfied that I was as ready as I could be, I settled in to eavesdrop and enjoy the show.
Luther and Rafael stared at each other across a distance of no more than twenty-five feet. For an older vampire, that was kissing distance. They were just that fast.
Rafael smiled, showing his teeth. Just as when I’d first met him, he was dressed to the nines in a sharp tailored suit, expensive Italian shoes, silk shirt, and a Rolex. Now that I knew it was all a façade, I wanted to see what was underneath the glamour. I shifted my vision to my second sight, focusing my will to see beyond the spell.
What I saw was revolting. Rafael was a nos-type vampire, a nosferatu. Typically, they were a more primitive sort of vamp. They were uglier, less intelligent, and more bestial than the higher species of their kind. While higher vampires almost always looked like pale, beautiful humans, nos-types looked like their namesake. They had grey, mottled skin, bat-like pointed ears, a skeletal build, and hands and feet that ended in razor-sharp claws.
Most striking of all, though, was their teeth. While higher vampires had elongated incisors, nosferatu had an entire mouthful of needle-sharp dentition. And while a higher vamp could feed on a human without causing lasting damage, a nos-type fed by savaging the chosen victim’s flesh. Those bitten rarely survived.
I’d never known a nos to be all that powerful. The ones I’d hunted were more like vermin than apex predators. This Rafael was something different, something I’d never run into before. Old, dangerous, and crafty.
It made me wonder if confronting him like this was the right choice. I guess I could have just waited until daylight and tossed a couple of napalm bombs under the bridge. But that would have required hurting all those innocent bats in the colony. I didn’t think I could barbecue several thousand bats just to get at one vampire.
Then I realized I could have used a giant parabolic mirror, to reflect sunlight up into the deep crevices under the bridge where the bats nested. Sure thing. I could have just run to the giant parabolic mirror store, set up a series of them in Rube Goldberg fashion, and fried the vamp for good.
Shit. Hindsight was always 20/20.
Too late for the MacGuyer solution now, Colin. Better be ready to rumble.
19
Luther spoke, bringing my attention back to the present.
“You are the one who calls himself Rafael?”
“I am. And you are Luther, master of the local coven, here to teach me a lesson for invading your dominion.”
Luther stood statue-still as he replied. “If you wanted to kill indiscriminately, you should have gone to New Orleans. Unfortunately, you chose to kill in my city. We do not kill humans here.”
Rafael tossed his head back and released a throaty laugh at the night sky. “Who has ever heard of vampires who do not hunt, who do not kill? We are the superior race. Humans are cattle for our kind. We kill because it pleases us, and so that we may survive. It has always been this way. To pretend otherwise is to deny our history and nature.”
Luther barely twitched a muscle. “Be that as it may, the law here is that we do not kill humans.”
Rafael’s face darkened. “There is no such law among our kind.”
“Among vampire-kind, I am the law here. And the penalty for breaking my law is death.”
The nosferatu’s expression softened to amusement again. “You may be elder to your coven members, but I am ancient. I have seen civilizations rise and fall. I have walked with pharaohs and watched as the Great Pyramids were built, back when the lands surrounding Giza were rich and verdant. I whispered in Nero’s ear and laughed with him as Rome burned. I feasted during the Black Plague and roamed across the sea to the New World with Raleigh. I am the answer to the mystery of the Lost Colony. I am the lasting night… I am death.”
I am the night? Really? Self-awareness, zero. Hubris, one. I stifled a laugh and shifted my weight to prevent my legs from going to sleep.
Luther gave a barely perceptible shrug. “Nevertheless, you have entered my dominion and ignored my authority. And I say again, the penalty for this is death.”
“Pfah! I grow tired of this exchange.” Rafael extended an arm toward Luther, beckoning him to approach. “Kill me then, if you can.”
I didn’t exactly catch what happened next, but it appeared as though Luther popped in and out of shadow, all around Rafael. There’d be a black puff of smoke, and then Luther’s head and arm or upper torso would appear out of it. He’d strike, or slash, or bite—and then, poof. He’d disappear, only to reappear again a second later, in a different place to strike again from another angle.
Most of his attacks landed, but they seemed to have little effect. While each attack rocked Rafael, he appeared to be absorbing every strike without suffering much damage.
“Enough!” Rafael finally yelled, leaping a good forty feet into the air to get clear of Luther’s barrage.
That’s when the real Rafael showed up.
All pretense of his humanity fell away with the glamour in an instant. And as Rafael’s true form was revealed, a further, unexpected transformation occurred. The nosferatu outstretched his arms, and they transformed into huge, hooked, bat-like wings. He grew larger at the same time, taking on extra mass in a manner that defied logic and physics. Although it was difficult to gauge his size accurately as he hovered in the air, I estimated that he’d gained between one and two feet in height.
“Well, so much for not drawing attention to ourselves,” I muttered. Somehow, I doubted that a seven-foot tall man-bat with a twenty-five-foot wingspan would escape the notice of the local population. The only consolation was the fact that it was still dark outside, and there were few people out and about at this hour. Hopefully, any and all reports would be chalked up to mass hysteria.
So long as no one filmed it.
Luther blinked back into existence a few feet away from my hiding spot and whispered without moving his lips. I guessed when you were centuries old, you picked up a few hobbies, like ventriloquism.
“When we engage in battle again, choose your mo
ment carefully. You will not get a second chance.”
I whispered back. “Gotcha. I’ll wait ’til the time is right, and banzai this motherfucker with everything I have on me.” No pressure there, or anything. Sheesh.
Rafael the super-nosferatu chose that moment to swoop down at Luther, dive-bombing him like a peregrine falcon descending on a rabbit. Luther appeared to be caught in indecision as he watched the winged nos dropping toward him. Then, at the last moment, he zipped out of the way.
With a single beat of those massive wings, Rafael banked skyward again. I worked the math out in my head and determined it was impossible for those wings to lift his mass and move him that quickly through the air. There had to be some sort of telekinetic levitation and propulsion involved as well. He climbed into the sky and dove at Luther three more times. Each time, the coven leader “blinked” out of the way.
I noted two things of interest during those three attacks.
First, vampire magic was weird.
And second, Luther was tiring. Apparently, there were limits to his powers. I could only surmise that he powered up on blood and therefore had a finite supply of energy to fuel his vampire speed. If that was the case, I also assumed that he wasn’t feeding as well or as often as Rafael. It had to be hard to feed without killing humans. Volunteers would be difficult to come by. They’d have to be rotated so they weren’t bled into anemia, and feedings would have to be limited… rationed, even.
I realized then how much danger Luther faced. From the looks of it, Rafael would have him in a few more passes. All he’d have to do would be to grab Luther, take him up a few thousand feet, and let terminal velocity do the rest.
Shit.
I decided to make my move. I loosened my sword in my scabbard, picked up the crossbow, and grabbed the edge of the tarp. Timing would be everything. I watched and waited until Rafael hit peak altitude. He dropped, and I ran, leading him off as I fired the crossbow. I didn’t even break stride as I dropped it, drawing my sword in one hand and my pistol in the other.