Wight

by Dorien Vincent

  "Tset!"

  He looked at her, "Eh?"

  "Oh..."

  His eye was fine. Where it had grill marks before, it was now a solid black orb once again. He smiled, "Alright."

  She nodded, worried, "Alright."

  Tyler was warming up the car already, but when he saw Tset's eye in the mirror he whistled, "What have we got on our hands, Jess?"

  Tset whistled, then pointed at himself, holding up a napkin he had written TSET on. Tyler smiled a wry smile and shook his head. Jessie was giggling.

  "Just so you know, Tset, it's weird for a coach to be friendly with his fighters like this. So... behave yourself."

  Life In The Pit

  Glamour Bag

  After a week, Tset was using his earnings, which were quite large, to rent an apartment. He had bid Jessie and Tyler good bye and moved his few belongings out.

  The next several months saw Tset winning every fight he did not throw, though none were quite as violent as LockJaw.

  Tset accumulated a million dollars for Tyler in under half a year in The Pit. Not only did he heal almost immediately, he also was able to take any opponent. As well, his strength, speed and regeneration seemed to only increase with each fight and each hammering blow he suffered - compound fractures would set themselves and close up in seconds, puncture wounds were as impermanent as the snowflakes outside.

  He did have limits, which he personally pushed, maybe to see how far he could go; during one match, wherein Tset had said he would fight from sunset to sunrise, in which he lost too much blood, it seemed his ability to heal was lessened and almost cancelled. However, chocolate and thick coffee the next morning seemed to almost instantly restore his metabolism once First Aide was done.

  Where before he had appeared to be harmless and sweet, Tset was actually keenly intelligent and possessed an unhidden cruel streak - a black sense of justice held sway over whether or not his opponent would ever stand up again.

  At the same time, Tset dilligently worked to expand his knowledge - he tore through libraries of novels and books; history, fiction, anything. His quick mind and wit brought him to devour these things voraciously. He read Plato, Stephen King and Durant the same way he would peruse magazines and science texts.

  His apartment had piles of books around everywhere he would be stationary for even a moment - by the window, under and around his bed, by the toilet, all around the ashtray a keep had been constructed of paperbacks.

  Tset found himself to be in the middle of fifteen to twenty books at any time.

  And he learned - like sight and sound were new, every media input he soaked information from. Tossing out what he did not need, and remembering the momentous and the trivial he thought he could use. Tset was a scholar and a gentleman by two years' time, though whether or not he acted like it depended on his mood, and never would an enemy see any compassion.

  However, that same year in, Tset's career in the Pit culminated with one talk between Ricky and the house manager:

  "Tyler's little glamour bag is really ruining this shit, Hal."

  Hal, a handsome and somewhat rugged, silver-haired man named Michael Halloran, put down his brandy, sighed, and rubbed his face, "Yeah."

  "He's fucking up the balance we had. He's totally killed the line between lightweight and heavyweight and super heavyweight."

  "Yeah."

  "We've got to get rid of him."

  "Yeah. But how do we do that? Didn't Murder Jack shoot him a week ago? Isn't he back on his feet? And did Jack ever come out of ICU?"

  Ricky coughed, "We could cancel his membership."

  "No, the fans would kill us, or he would. Even if he's killing the sport, he's still bringing in the cash."

  "So, I have a much better idea, would you mind coming down to the garage?" Ricky stood and walked to Hal's elevator.

  "What's in the garage, Rick?"

  "You'll see, Mike, you'll see." Rick had a wicked smile on his face.

  Ricky believed firmly in the existence of vampires. They had to exist. There was no doubt. He'd collected 'evidence' throughout the years, but none of it definite.

  He read as much as he could from various sources and spoke on the subject at length, alienating anyone who would care to listen. He spent his money on nothing else but this pursuit.

  The long and the short of it was that Ricky was obsessed, and now he had caught one.

  The elevator doors slid open and there was the garage - where Michael had his house and where various things were stored and/or parked. It was a huge underground cave, really. Mike had found it and simply cemented it. There were some places an underground river even passed near to the surface.

  The place was always brightly lit, but now even more so by the UV lights that blasted down and across, and into corners and at exits. UV weakened vampires, so did silver, for some reason Ricky hadn't clarified beyond its immediate application.

  Ricky's men ran about, checking systems, checking silver-slug-loaded weapons, checking lights, checking the silver oxide canisters, and finally, some, very nervously, were checking the silver-encrusted glass cage, it was multifaceted, and the only thing holding the glass together was a silver net - if the vampire moved wrong, he would be cut apart, theoretically.

  The vampire was bloody and bruised, one of his eyes had swollen shut entirely and the intense UV light refracted from silver mirrors kept it from healing and coming alive.

  His silken clothing was very well torn.

  In addition to being obsessed, Ricky was also delusional, "You! Look at us! Gaze upon your masters!" He called up to it. The one good eye opened and rolled to look at them. The vampire, while being destroyed in physical appearance, emanated disdain for the food he was now being controlled by.

  Hal had no idea exactly what was going on. "You have a beat up pretty boy in a jewelry box, what does this have to do with Slapstick?"

  "This is a vampire, Hal, I control him now."

  Hal snorted, "Bullshit." Then the vampire laughed.

  "You're a fool," It sighed, spitting a chewed fingernail.

  "You're the fool! Bug! Parasite!" Ricky said this to hit a chord. And he did.

  The vampire hissed, his mouth open wide, his fangs to full extension, glistening, evil. The eyes, both now, were wild and piercing and undirected but keenly predatory.

  Ricky smiled, "See Hal?"

  Hal looked horrified, sickened, awed and pious to this thing. Ready to beg and whimper for mercy, but, also to give his life to it.

  "Hal!" Ricky shook him to break his gaze. "Realize the fuckers are hypnotic, too."

  Hal nodded, looking agapedly at Ricky. "So, what are we going to do?"

  "We're going to build a silver cage over the Pit, then, a little bit more work, and we'll be ready to go."

  Hal nodded slowly, the words meaningless to him as he regarded the being hanging above him.

  Good old Sicky Ricky.

  Tset was preparing for his next fight, which meant he was draped over a chair luxuriously, smoking a Chinese Emperial cigarette and watching JapAnime on his little digital wonder device. Tset was a master at relaxation.

  Anyone walking into the room would be struck by the image of Tset - he was Michelangelo's David in perfect repose, oblivious to his own visage.

  Tyler did stroll in. He beamed vitality, all smiles, Jessie was there, too. And though they hadn't told him, he could feel it - Jessie was pregnant. They both glowed in the filth around them like little diamonds of humanity.

  Tset loved them entirely.

  "Ricky's got a new fighter. Local dude, though, must be totally new to the circuit. Name's listed as 'Vambo.'"

  Tset pulled a headphone out. "What?"

  Tyler rolled his eyes, "Your opponent's name is 'Vambo.' He's one of Sicky Ricky's so be careful."

  "Fuck Ricky, honestly." Only Ricky's fighters were ever responsible for any risky odds in the ring for Tset. Tset couldn't kill Ricky as Ricky was a glib lip-service type and had slimed his way out of th
e accusations that he was rigging his fighters, but Tyler was not - it would be blamed on Tyler, if Tset murdered Sicky Ricky, and Tyler would not have the smooth and criminal appeal to get himself free.

  If he could just get him in the ring...

  Tset wrapped his headphones around his digital wonder device. "Anyway, we'll see what Vambi's all about in just a second."

  He pushed past the door man and into the ring. The crowd roared their approval.

  Tset, as always, paid them no mind.

  Immediately he noticed the cage was silver. Why was that?

  "In this corner, house favorite, Tset! Weighing in at 145 pounds!"

  The cheering increased.

  "And, in this corner, Vambo! Weighing in at 130 pounds!"

  'Wow, super lightweight.' Tset thought.

  Then Vambo appeared, somewhat, and hit Tset full charge. Tset's innards were rearranged and blood rocketed out of his mouth hard enough to hurt the back of his throat. Tset was on his knees and severely injured before Vambo's door had even banged at its maximum aperture and swung closed.

  Vambo, still a streak, flew about the cage, doing laps, making the mesh hum with his passing.

  Tset was on his knees. Coughing blood and fingering the holes in his abdomen. Vambo was fast. But, oddly enough, Tset held him in focus, perfectly. He could make out the pores on his face... the white skin, the blue veins, the deathly eyes... the claws, the teeth, the animal hunger.

  And the RAAAAAGE.

  Tset inhaled, hoping for the stench of chlorine to tell him it was a dream. All he could smell was blood, his sinuses were filled with it and face dripping with it.

  He stood, and cleared his throat of a hunk of something. He assumed fighting stance and Vambo floated to the ground in front of him, terrible, beautiful, deadly; the shimmering hair, the invitingly poisonous eyes, and his claws.

  "Are we going to do this or what?" Tset's nose was entirely clogged and his throat was filling.

  Vambo came on, slashing. Tset stepped in, rifts appearing in his face, before his upper body turned and a solid punch nearly broke Vambo's cheek. In the recoil Tset took a grip and threw Vambo down, bouncing him on the grate. Vambo was faster than Tset knew anything could move, but, apparently Tset himself was faster even still.

  Vambo seemed indestructible - he recovered and slid up the far wall of the cage, coming back immediately. His delicate fingers laced through Tset's and broke his hands. Tset was hoisted up and over, yelling his protest and struggling. And he was tossed, like nothing. His control left him - no feet on the floor, nothing to balance against, and when he came back down, Vambo's claws were waiting, and they dragged curlicue tendrils of skin from Tset's chest.

  Tset's shout was interrupted when he hit, and there he lay, struggling.

  He rolled over to stand, getting his palms underneath him. He spit a tooth, and a gobbet before he struggled up and brought his fists to bear.

  Vambo was smiling and moving painfully slow. He circled around behind Tset while Tset watched carefully.

  Before Tset could react, Vambo came forward, laying cool, calming fingers on Tset's flayed skin. Tset was suddenly heavy and exhausted.

  "That's right." the creature whispered to Tset's neck, and then he bit.

  Tset's warning systems were back up in a flash and he'd unconsciously gripped Vambo in two painful places, but all Vambo wanted to do was get away. He screamed and kicked and thrashed, spitting Tset's blood back, drenching Tset's naked shoulders in a raging splutter.

  It screamed to Tset, "You are FFOOOOOUUUULLL!"

  Tset was deafened - the scream had the qualities of howling wind through an old house but more of shrieking steel collapse.

  Then Tset gritted his teeth - the silver, why the silver? To keep this thing in. Obviously it couldn't deal with silver.

  Being a firm believer that enemies should pay an eye for an eye, Tset bit down on the vampire, but the bite was not clean - jagged rents ringed a gap of deepest, darkest red. The vampire sprayed.

  Tset almost vomited at the taste of the barely-warm meat and cold blood in his mouth, but spit it out through his clenched teeth.

  The vampire tried to keep the blood flow down with his powerful hands, but this was made awkward by Tset's grasp and even when he did manage to get a good grip on his slippery neck, the blood still sprayed through his fingers.

  Tset lifted the writhing thing above his head and brought it back down, anger and rage powering him beyond limits.

  The thing stopped writhing, stopped bleeding, the silver had cut through it with little resistance and cauterized the wounds.

  The crowd was silent. The bell sounded once.

  A Brother's Coven:

  Oath

  When Tyler and a couple of the guys made it into the Ring, Tset was down. They hauled him up and dragged him out, their grips slipping on the slick skin.

  They layed him down on the table, getting bandages and liquid blood clotter. Tyler had a torch and a steel rod he used to close up the holes in Tset's neck.

  An hour later, they sat around, Tyler held Jessie and Tset lay still.

  Two hours later, dawn was breaking. Tset raised his hand, holding his cigs, the pack was smashed, "I left this in my pocket," He whispered, "Does anyone have an extra?"

  Tset was given his cigarette, and helped home a few hours later when the bleeding had stopped and he could be moved.

  Vambo's corpse was taken across town and cremated. Ricky waved off the unnaturality of it - saying Vambo had come to him, and "Who knows what these guys off the streets are on?"

  Michael Halloran stayed quiet but the rumors flew. People had seen it: the bites.

  It took Tset three days to recover properly, and many things in his life changed over those few numbers of hours:

  First, the vampire had a brother, by choice and coven, not by blood. The vampire's name had been Tomas Henderson Heilman, and his brother, Yuri Nikov, knew of his demise. He'd been looking for his brother since his disappearance, and upon catching his scent followed the strange ambulance it emanated from.

  The rusty truck led him to an old scrapyard.

  The last thing he'd seen of his brother had wrenched his insides for days: the cattle hopped from their vehicle, ran around back like the Keystone Kops, he thought, threw open the doors and dragged an ancient gurney down.

  The sheet covering the small mound was soaked, and Yuri didn't mistake the vacant face he saw when the rocky terrain bumped his brother's body free and to the ground.

  There was a firepit hidden from view of the highway, and that's where Tomas' remains lay.

  Yuri made several severe judgments. For one, he knew who's fault this was: he and Tomas had been watching Ricky while Ricky watched them. Tomas even knew Ricky's smell - his skin and his blood.

  The remaining half of the vampire coven now stood in Ricky's front yard. Ricky was watching television and he happened to look out his front window, seeing a tall, immaculately dressed figure who could only be one thing. That thing smiled at him and rushed, too fast to see, through the window, catching Ricky before he rose, wrapping one delicate hand around his neck, gripping like a vise even before the glass had fallen to the carpet. He purred, "Who is my brother's killer?"

  Ricky managed, "I don't know who your brother is!"

  Yuri shook the human like a doll, "Don't lie to me, bug, we both watched you trailing and following us for months. And, while you're a louse and a pathetic waste of carbon, I know you have something to do with his death and I want his killer. If you tell me where the slayer is, I'll let you live on for a time. Otherwise, I can pop your throat and drink right now." He brushed his thumbnail, long and wickedly filed for this purpose, from Ricky's earlobe to a few inches under his jaw.

  Ricky, being a man of unspeakable virtues, broke down instantly, and, hating Tyler, gave his address.

  The vampire arrived, hanging outside the window, inside was Tyler, the alleged slayer, watching TV. The man definitely had the inner fire and b
loodsmell.

  A woman passed through the living room, "Honey, I forgot something in the car."

  The man smiled, "I can go, what is it?"

  "No, don't worry, I could use the walk. I'll be back in a minute."

  They kissed briefly and she left.

  The vampire's lips curled evilly. He headed down to the garage. Killing the female of a hunterkiller always got such a much more delicious response - normally it slammed the man down spiritually hard enough to later drink, or even enslave, at your will. Humans were such jelly. "Hilarious we're all born inferior." The grin twisted still further.

  The woman was on the lower level, digging in the trunk. The vampire came up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Good evening."

  She turned, gasped softly, and her throat split.

  Something hissed through the air and struck Yuri in the skull, hard enough to knock it part way into the trunk.

  The vampire turned, and a demon stood behind him, jet black hair and obsidian eyes. The creature's hands were in claws. It was wounded, but the vampire did not smell the blood on it.

  He decided to flee after the creature grabbed him and twisted his elbow, almost holding him firm while a sloppy punch creased his forehead and made his ears ring.

  The vampire escaped. 'I've done enough.' He thought. Humans would prefer their own death than the death of their friends. He had done enough. His brother was avenged. Now, about the maggot he'd visited earlier.

  Tset awoke, cold sweat pouring off his face. Something was wrong, Tyler was in danger.

  He gathered his resolve and pulled his clothes over his tired and broken frame, the sutures in his gut coming loose. He ignored the bleeding and went out of his apartment, garnering some confused looks. He sprinted outside to a main street and found a taxi almost immediately. He gave Tyler's address.

  He arrived, something streaked from the roof above and into the garage, the automatic gate clanged as the specter passed through it.

  "Shit!"

  Tset ran as he could, opening his wounds further, bleeding freely now.