If there was an easy answer to all of this, it eluded me. What could I do that wouldn’t end with me either as a pile of ashes or having turned into an icy-blooded sociopath like the rest of them?
Go figure. On a night when my only plan had been to find a few pairs of tits on pay cable, I’d somehow stepped into a heaping pile of bullshit instead. Sadly, the suckage of the evening wasn’t quite finished with me yet.
On the way home, I racked my brain for a good hour, but couldn’t come up with jack or shit. Unfortunately, the whole mess had me so distracted that I ended up missing my fucking transfer.
I ended up sitting on the A train for several more stops than I’d intended, taking me into Queens. That was verboten territory as it was home to the HBC and they weren’t overly fond of me at the moment.
It was late, though, and I didn’t feel like hanging around and being accosted for change while I waited for the train on the opposite track. The beauty of vampire physiology is that distances which might be worth a cab ride for a human are a pretty easy run for a vamp. Considering the late hour, I figured I’d have a pretty good chance of walking into my apartment sooner if I made the journey on foot. All in all, it seemed worth the risk.
As it turns out, much like so many other items that night, I was wrong.
FEAR NOT, GOOD CITIZEN
For a long time, the unofficial credo attributed to New Yorkers had been “I don’t want to get involved.” This was all thanks to a well-publicized murder from the 1960’s. Most of us like to think that when shit is going down, we’ll react in a way that would make our mothers proud. In reality, oftentimes putting one’s fingers in one’s ears and going “la la la” is the easier course. The thing is, occasionally it’s the wiser one as well.
Sadly, much like the elven battlemage I play at my weekly D&D game, I wasn’t known for my wisdom.
I’d gone a few blocks at most, the empty streets zipping by in the darkness as I put my speed to good use, when I heard the cry.
It had been faint, easy to miss even in a slumbering city, but my hearing was several times sharper than a normal person’s. Despite my intent to get home and kick my roommates awake so as to brainstorm a solution to my problems, I stopped and listened. The cry came again, followed by the sharp bark of what sounded like a small dog. Had someone’s Pomeranian gotten loose and was, even now, rampaging through the streets while its hapless owner chased after it?
Oh well, that wasn’t my problem. Stupid fucking rat dogs. I was about to ignore it and continue on my way when my overly sensitive ears picked up another voice – this one low, barely audible even to me.
“Scream all you want, bitch.”
That stopped me dead in my tracks. A smart person would have dialed 911. Hell, a smart vampire would too, right before getting the fuck out of there. Not that I believed in playing to stereotypes, but I probably didn’t look like the type who’d be wandering these streets alone at this time. The last thing I needed was a suspicious cop thinking I was a meth-head out looking to score.
It was the small part of me enamored with being a vampire that ultimately decided to pursue what was surely an insane course of action. That’s the thing about waking up one day with super powers. It tends to dull our logic circuits while automatically making us believe in our own invincibility. Of course, it’s that kind of bullshit reasoning that makes people sew up a homemade Batman costume only to end up in the morgue by day’s end.
Damn my sense of social responsibility! Despite knowing the monumental stupidity of what I was about to do, I homed in on the direction of the voices and took off at full speed – hoping to not become yet another sad statistic in a city with far too many.
* * *
I glanced around the corner and saw them. Two men, both of average height, stood over their victim an old woman, her brown skin covered in wrinkles, easily seventy, maybe more. She was sitting with her back against the alley wall, holding her little dog protectively. The mutt looked small enough to fit inside a hamster cage. As far as protection went, one would’ve been hard pressed to pick a more useless theft deterrent. The little rodent let out a warning bark every few seconds, but even it seemed to sense how idle its threats were.
This was all happening between two rundown apartment complexes. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what had transpired. Apparently granny there had decided to take Fido for a walk, lest the little beast piss her rug again. Sadly, she’d picked a night when there were predators about.
A small part of me wondered where the cops were. The old woman’s cries had fallen silent, no doubt under threat from the two goons accosting her, but the dog’s shrill yips were plenty loud in the narrow confines of the space.
Almost as if in answer to my unasked question, a voice came from above. “Shut the fuck up!” The sound of a window slamming shut followed a moment later.
Such a wonderful neighborhood.
“You heard the man, bitch,” one of the assailants said, his voice betraying a slight Latino lilt. He picked up a discarded flashlight, probably the old lady’s, and threw it against the wall where it shattered. “Shut your fucking dog up. Or better yet, we will.”
The woman shrank back even further, cradling the dog to her like it was a child. Hell, the little rodent probably was to her. When she spoke, her voice was low and pleading. “Please don’t hurt Mr. Piddles. I gave you my purse, that’s all I have.”
Mr. Piddles?
The two men chuckled and then the other answered, “We don’t want your purse, you old bag. We want you.”
Oh, crap. So much for this being a simple mugging. What is it with the sick fucks in this world? Had this merely been an altercation over a few dollars, I might still have minded my own business. Now, though, shit was about to get serious. It was time to show these assholes that there were darker things afoot this night.
* * *
I took a moment to pull the hood of my light jacket up over my head, taking a cue from Bruce Willis in Unbreakable. Too bad for these fuckheads that they were both about to audition for the role of Mr. Glass.
That done, I let loose with all my speed – racing to their position before they could make good on their threats. I put my head down and shoulder-tackled the first, sending him flying into his friend. It was a hit that would have gotten me a first round draft pick as an NFL linebacker had any scouts been present. Sadly, such a career change seemed unlikely, so I had to take satisfaction at seeing the two dickwads go tumbling head over heels to land in a heap.
Taking a moment to enjoy my handiwork, I turned toward the old lady – her eyes now wide circles of white in the dark alleyway. I’d probably appeared so fast that she didn’t have a clue what was happening.
“It’s okay.” I held out a hand to her. “You’re safe...”
“Well, well, seems we got ourselves a fucking hero here.”
Guess I spoke too soon. I glanced over, wondering if maybe the assholes had backup. Instead, I saw them both up on their feet. What the fuck? I’d hit them hard enough to easily crack bone. The only way these guys should have been standing was after a long stay in the hospital followed by weeks of physical therapy. Yet they appeared unhurt. Either these guys were really good actors, I was a lot less tough than I thought, or...
That “or” part was confirmed when the first one smiled in my direction. The expression held no mirth to it. It was the look of someone who knew something the other didn’t. A moment later I was clued in as I watched his canines elongate. Fuck me. What were the chances I’d run into a couple of HBC vamps?
Actually, considering they were right in front of me, probably one-hundred percent.
Just wonderful. I’d been paddling down shit’s creek all night and now I’d just turned a bend and spotted rapids ahead.
* * *
Thankfully it was too dark for the old lady to see much – aside from maybe her attackers not being out of the fight yet. That in of itself was bad enough. Had she possessed night vision like me and
seen that she was now in the presence of monsters, I can’t help but think that might have sent her off the deep end.
“Don’t you fucking move,” the second attacker, an ugly guy with pockmarked skin and a shaved head, told the old woman. Much to my annoyance, she shrank back and obeyed. Hell, I couldn’t even get my former college girlfriend to do that when she was shitfaced drunk.
“It’ll be all right,” I whispered to her, although I had to imagine how lame that sounded. Hell, I was having a hard time convincing myself. Ending up the meat in a beat-down sandwich didn’t seem like a particularly wonderful way to end my evening.
“So, hero,” the first one said mockingly, “you want to put on your cape and fly now? No? Maybe you want to try running then? Go ahead. Try it.”
Hmm, obviously these guys thought I was just some random Good Samaritan. Still, I seriously considered doing as he said. As young as I was, I had little doubt putting on a burst of vampire speed would surprise them long enough for me to get my ass to safety.
But then I glanced over and saw the old lady, still cowering with her pet squirrel. I knew now this wasn’t a simple robbery. These were vampires and they were out hunting. It was a fair bet they weren’t here to recruit either. They’d drain her dry and then leave her for the rats. Fuck me and my sense of decency, but I couldn’t allow that.
Instead of doing the smart thing, I said, “I don’t run from asses. I kick them.”
I faced them down and bared my fangs, hoping maybe the presence of another vamp might cause them to back off. How and why that would work – I had no idea, but hope was a fool’s errand anyway and I was apparently quite the fool.
At the very least, it caused them to hesitate for a second, just long enough for me to realize it was time to put up or shut up. During my first few weeks as a vamp, Sally had imparted upon me the necessity of appearance in the world of the undead. I’d taken it to heart then, but I’ll be the first to admit I’d let it lapse in the months since I’d taken the top spot. It was time to relearn that lesson all over again.
I took a step forward, feigning confidence I didn’t feel, trying to psych myself out by remembering that these two might be vampires, but they were still big enough pussies that they felt the need to gang up on a feeble old woman. The thought – asshole predators singling out the old and weak – pissed me off and I used that anger as an anchor to keep myself from doing the smart thing and turning tail.
“Who the fuck are you?” the first guy asked. “This is our territory. The HBC don’t like no...”
“You know damn well who I am, shithead,” I snarled. “Some of your friends met me a few months back. They didn’t really enjoy that. I don’t think you will either.”
“Oh, shit, man,” Baldy said. “No fucking way. You’re that Freewill freak.”
I gave a mock bow. “I see my reputation precedes me.” Thank God for a semester of drama club at NJIT.
“You killed Big Mike,” the first one said. “He was my friend, motherfucker.”
I’d done nothing of the sort. The Howard Beach Coven had been caught recruiting above their quota and James had culled their excess numbers as a lesson to them. Unfortunately, I’d somehow gotten stuck with the tab. Sadly, placing the blame on someone who wasn’t there probably wasn’t my ticket to getting out of this mess. “Maybe you need to make better friends.”
“Or maybe we need to bring your ass back to Samuel. Bet he’d reward us real good.”
Oh fuck. Samuel was the HBC’s master. From what I’d heard, he was two hundred years old, tough as nails, and had a major chip on his shoulder. That he also blamed me for the deaths of his coven members made it a fair bet that any meeting between us wouldn’t involve hugs, pats on the back, or even a friendly reach around.
That sealed it. I either had to win this fight or hope for a really quick and preferably painless death.
HOLDING OUT FOR A HERO
The only tactical advantage in my favor was the narrowness of the alley. It wouldn’t be easy for anyone to get past me and gain flank. If that happened, well, one didn’t need to be versed in D&D rules to know that was a bad thing.
My only hope was to win this and I didn’t think talking would get that shit done. Sadly, I was probably going to have to cross the line between my humanity and becoming one with the creature I’d tried to deny. In short, I was going to have to dust these fuckers. I just didn’t know if I could actually bring myself to do it.
While I was contemplating this existential crisis, they both rushed me. Seeing them cross the distance between us with frightful speed made my choice seem much more palatable. The skinhead went low, while his Latin friend took the high road. Reacting out of pure instinct alone, I leapt – using every ounce of strength in my legs to propel me upward.
I almost made it too. The first fuckhead missed me completely and went sailing past. Sadly, I caught his friend on the face on the way up. I took some satisfaction in the crunch my sneaker made against his nose right before I went pinwheeling through the air.
Through some miracle of luck, I landed on top of the guy who’d just gotten a mouthful of Adidas. He might’ve been older and tougher, but never discount being on the wrong end of an impact. I nearly brained myself in the process, but the pained grunt he made told me I’d knocked the wind out of him.
A memory stirred within me of my first encounter with the HBC from months back and I knew what needed to be done if I were to have any chance of surviving the night. Still woozy from the fall, I grabbed the nearest appendage to my sprawled form – his leg – and bit into it with everything I had.
Real life vampires are tough, but there are downsides. Sunlight is one of them. What most don’t realize, though, is that blood can be another. Sure, vamps feed upon humans and dig the taste of blood, but there’s a caveat – it has to be the blood of the living. If a regular vamp tries to bite down on another, regardless of whether it’s during kinky True Blood sex or not, they’re gonna end the evening puking their guts out as if they’d just spent the weekend in Tijuana drinking from random faucets.
I’m not a regular vampire, though. My unique nature affords me a few perks, the best being that vamp blood doesn’t give me the Hershey squirts. Quite the contrary. I not only can handle it, I actually thrive on that shit. When I chow down on another vampire, I somehow temporarily ingest their power as well.
The effect is not unlike adding nitrous to a car engine for a quick supercharge. That feeling hit my stomach as I tore into the HBC vamp’s calf muscle and sucked down his blood as if my life depended on it.
My victim struggled against me, but I had the advantage of leverage. Alas, he had the advantage of having brought a friend. Thankfully, rather than stake me in the back like a smart opponent, strong hands grabbed hold of my jacket and tore me away from the other vampire. He dragged me off and threw me down the alley; I sailed a good fifteen feet before hitting the unyielding concrete.
Too bad for the skinhead vamp, he was too little and too late in coming to the rescue. I landed, skidded, and then rolled back to my feet – feeling the lacerations on my hands and knees already beginning to knit themselves back together thanks to the power boost I’d just gotten.
Skinhead helped his buddy back to his feet. His friend now sported a nasty limp courtesy of my fangs. Oh well, fuck him. I still had the taste of his leg in my mouth and, believe me, this was one asshole who could’ve done with a long shower.
I’d managed to even the odds a bit, but that was a long way from winning. The two HBC vamps hesitated, more wary this time, but I didn’t fool myself into thinking the rest of this fight would be easy. I scanned the alley for something I could use, but spied nothing except some random garbage. I had a feeling that beating them off with a discarded six pack carton wouldn’t do much, unless they were maybe really into recycling. Looking back their way, I saw the situation had gotten even worse. Both vamps reached into their jackets and produced weapons: a box cutter for the first and a wicked hunting kn
ife for the ugly bald one.
Shit!
They came at me again. The first vamp limped for a few steps, but then his healing must’ve kicked in as he quickly accelerated. The bald-headed one, wise to my trick from their first assault, waited for a moment then tensed his legs and leapt, clearing ten feet into the air as he held his blade aloft – looking to sink it somewhere nice and soft, like me.
His buddy reached me first and took a swing with the razor. Sadly for him, he wasn’t well versed on his Freewill lore. I caught his arm mid-swing then fell back and dragged him with me, just as his buddy came down on us with the knife.
Though the razor in the first vamp’s hands sliced me on the shoulder, I barely felt it. Besides, it was nothing compared to the six inches of steel that sank between his shoulder blades – his friend being unable to halt his momentum.
I landed on my ass and then watched, stunned, as a flash of light erupted from the first vampire’s chest. In the space of a second, he immolated from the inside out. It was only by luck that I managed to close my mouth before the rain of hot ash that resulted washed down upon me.
Holy crap.
I stared wide-eyed up at the second vamp, standing there still holding his knife, but apparently in an equal amount of shock.
I’d just killed a vampire. Well, okay, his friend had done the deed, but I’d dragged the guy in front of me, purposely putting him in the path of the fatal blow.
I wasn’t sure whether to laugh or puke as I contemplated the life I’d just snuffed out. Sadly, this was a bad time to freak. I still had one more vamp to deal with and he was both armed and likely to be pissed about his buddy. He seemed to realize it too as our eyes met and a snarl erupted from his throat.
He raised the knife high ... and that was when the old lady found her voice again and started screaming. Go figure – being assaulted, saved, and then witnessing a fight that ended with one of the combatants exploding into ash had probably unnerved her ever so slightly.
The Tome of Bill (Book 1.5): Night Stalker Page 3