Vampires Don't Cry: The Collection

by Ian Hall

  Reynolds got on the phone. I heard Lyman’s voice on the other side of the call.

  “Two kids in two days; Alan’s crew’s finally getting to work,” he summarized after bringing my absent partner up to speed.

  I leant into the window and yelled into Reynolds’s phone, “Lyman? How much longer? I just watched another kid get snatched right before my freaking eyes.”

  “Okay. I’m on my way, Mandy. Just sit tight; stay with Frank.”

  Reynolds clamped the cell phone shut on Lyman’s mandate. “Get in,” he said; looks like we were back to a two-word limit.

  I kept my response down to one, “No.”

  “Get. In.”

  I couldn’t figure out how to put “They’re gonna kill Tory if I don’t find her” into a single syllable. So, I just expanded on my last reply.

  “Hell no.”

  Reynolds inhaled a frustrated breath, got out the car, grabbed me by the arm and proceeded to guide me to the passenger side, abruptly depositing me in the seat. I simmered on medium heat, reminding myself of what I - a freaking VAMPIRE - could have done to him.

  He took his time getting back to the driver’s side, as if tempting me to take off again. I just sat there, seething.

  I swear that patronizing voice in my head chuckled, “Good dog.”

  By the time I left New River, I hoped the ember I’d ignited was building to an inferno. It took less than two hours to reach Harris, and I parked right outside the hotel on the main intersection.

  “Is the corner room available? The one overlooking the street?” The lady looked kind, but a bag of nerves. But she nodded, swiped my card, and gave me the key in record time. I threw my bags on one of the beds and called Frank.

  “Main Street Hotel, room 201.”

  “Gotcha.”

  I took another dose of meds, the third since leaving New River, knowing that if there was one thing I did not want to be tonight, it was a vampire. Switching off the room lights, I crossed to the corner windows, and swept the curtains wide. The room looked both north towards the foothills, and east along Seventh Street. The shops on the nearest two corners were dark, but there were still lights on at the Conoco Gas Station opposite; caddy-corner, as my dad used to say.

  A white van pulled up outside the shop on Seventh. Flashed its lights once. I crossed to the switch and did the same with the room lights.

  A burst of radio static broke the silence. “I see you.” I did not recognize the voice.

  “Roger,” I said into the handset. “My crew will be here shortly.”

  “Roger.”

  From phone calls on the way north, I knew the van contained three Helsing operatives from Phoenix, one of them Hideo Namuchi, the companion from my first vampire execution.

  I opened all the windows an inch to let me hear outside, and had just pulled a chair to the corner window when I heard distant shots, two of them. I couldn’t tell the direction, but I surmised north. That’s where I would be with my young cadre of vampires.

  I heard footsteps on the street. Two sets of them. One human and heavy, one vampire and fleeting; Mandy. “Come on up, guys,” I whispered out the opening in the window.

  Once they were inside, Reynolds locked the door. “Anything?”

  I shook my head. “Just a couple of shots.” I turned around to see them, and even in the dim light from the streetlamps, Mandy looked awesome, so different. Her hair much shorter, and dark, kinda punky, and her tits. Oh, crap. I’m glad that little Elena had taken some of the pressure off. I might have blown a gasket.

  “You’ll catch flies.” Mandy sat beside me. “Two shots, yeah, we heard them. They came from up near where we almost got the Mize twin.”

  “Good defensive position,” I said, still looking at Mandy’s transformation.

  From the streetlights outside, I could see Mandy’s face, all made up, concentrating, trying to cover her worry over Chris McDonald. Suddenly she tensed, holding her hand to her lips. She then held two fingers in the air.

  “Two vampires just sped north, one said, ‘rendezvous’.”

  I used the radio. “Two vampires went north past our position, radio silence.”

  “Roger.” Hideo.

  “Roger.” Mary-Christine.

  “What the…”

  “Shh,” Mandy hushed me. Another white van arrived near the gas station. Mandy held up three fingers this time.

  We’d chosen the crossroads because of the lack of recognizable landmarks in the town. If vampires were coming here, even they’d need a rally point.

  My phone rang, I hushed the speaker, then ran outside the room, taking the call in the brightly-lit hallway. “Mary-Christine?”

  “Hi, sweetie, the cavalry has arrived. Care to let us in on the action?”

  “No problem. Who you got with you?”

  “Mom, dad. We got a phone call that it was urgent; all hands to the pumps, and all that.”

  I felt so high on my meds, I never even felt one iota of hesitation. “Okay, this is how we think the land lies. We’ve got Alan McCartney and the Harris High School kids up to the north of the highway. From the south, I think we’ve got a posse coming in, mostly older vampires, from his mom, Angela. Right now we’re waiting on the bloodbath. Our job is to sit tight, and clean up the mess.”

  “Why are they fighting?”

  I laughed. “Well, seems a few vampire killings down in New River got blamed on Alan’s bunch. We’ve got no idea how that happened.”

  “You’re a smug bastard, Lyman.” But I didn’t detect any rancor to her comment.

  “Okay, we’ve got vampires passing the vans, so radio silence until I say so.”

  “Okay.” She hung up.

  I returned to the room, locking the door. “Anything happening?” I whispered, crossing to the window.

  “At least another ten; all going north,” Reynolds answered, his voice a low monotone.

  “The three Muscats are here,” I pointed. “The van by the Conoco.”

  Mandy held her hand over her face as if trying to stop from being sick. I could tell her face was bursting red. She dropped her hand to reveal a huge grin. “The Three Muscat-eers!” And she was gone in a silent howl of laughter that both Reynolds and I found impossible not to join.

  When we had eventually calmed down, I looked at my phone. Seven fifty-three. “Think they’re waiting until eight o’clock?”

  Reynolds’s answer got cut short by Mandy’s raised hand. She bent her head to the gap in the window, keeping her hand held high. It seemed to be there for ages. Then she turned to us, smiling.

  “That was Alan’s mom!” she hissed. “I can’t believe we were this lucky. Right outside the window.”

  “Do you think she knew we were here?” I asked.

  “No.” Mandy shook her head emphatically. “She was just looking forward to seeing her son’s head on a spike; the usual mad-mother rant.”

  At seven fifty-nine on my phone, there were a few more gunshots followed by a couple of bursts of machine gun fire. Then silence. A couple of individual shots were fired a few minutes later. And again it fell quiet.

  “Three minutes?” Reynolds said.

  “Shh!” Mandy hissed again.

  Even I heard them this time, the soft patter of lots of feet running past.

  “All the feet are going south.” Mandy turned to us again. “That might be it.”

  “Can you count them?”

  Mandy shook her head. “Too many at once.”

  “It’s over?”

  “Seems like it.”

  “Okay, you’re up, Mandy.” She stood and saluted formally. “Keep everything open except your legs,” I joked. She just shook her head and sighed. “I’m not kidding, Mandy. Keep alert out there, we don’t want you hurt or captured, not now.”

  She vanished immediately.

  I picked up my handset. “Mandy has gone scouting north. Sit tight ‘til I give the all-clear.”

  “Roger.”

  “Ro
ger.”

  The voice in my head had ceased. No more lapdog; I was all vampire.

  I followed Angela’s scent; a thick mix of vampire hormone and baby powder. Why did old women douse themselves in so much freaking baby powder? Usually the stuff made me gag; this time it set my legs under me and pointed me in the right direction.

  The parking lot overlooking the stretch of freeway across Brick Street had sure seeing its share of action these days. It didn’t take long to figure out why. Seems like Angela’s team had ambushed Alan from above, right over the freaking half-wall of the overpass.

  Their strategy paid off. Six of Alan’s junior league players were nothing more than specks of red over the dirt lot.

  “That’s what experience will do for you,” I told myself.

  Listening intently for any sign of Angela’s guys lingering about - and hearing nothing - I slowed to a human jaunt and inspected the carnage. In all, seven lay still as the dead. Most notably among them, both of the Mize brothers along with Tory Bean and Katrina Suza - the girl Chris had reported as gone missing a couple months ago. Katrina lay sprawled out over the hood of a bullet-riddled gray sedan, Zooey Deschanel eyes staring blankly up into space.

  Another two I didn’t recognize, both females, were crouched down inside the car Katrina lay across. By the holes in windows and doors, and their slumped postures, I didn’t have to look any closer to see how they’d fared.

  The last body lay a good distance from the rest. Face down. Shot in the back. He’d been running away. But there was no doubt in my mind as to his identity. Chris.

  Way too slowly, I walked over, kneeling. Tears were in my eyes as I grabbed him by the scruff of the neck like a mongrel and forced his face upwards. When I saw the slack, lifeless face I bawled aloud.

  Not him.

  Dayton Priestley, the friend-turned-asshole from the sketchbook. I wanted to feel sorry for the dead boy but relief came first; it wasn’t my Chris.

  “Thank you, God…thank you…” I must have said it a dozen times before coming back to my senses and remembering my mission.

  And the predicament I’d put myself in. Dead as they may look - these were goddamn vampires. If I wasn’t careful, I could find myself surrounded. I needed backup and needed it quick.

  I sucked in a steeling breath and radioed Lyman, “Get the Helsings to Brick Street - now. Tell them they’ll need their whole bag of tricks. They’re in for a freaking field day.”

  “Roger that…” He must’ve heard the strain in my voice. “Hey, Mandy - are you okay?”

  My answer sounded flipped and far more level than I actually felt. “Peachy-keen.”

  “Okay. We’re rolling now.”

  While I waited for the cavalry, I continued my inspection. Once my head cleared a bit, I became able to assess the scene more objectively. Besides Tank and Dozer Mize, the compliment of dead vampires was made up entirely of new recruits.

  “Lambs to the freaking slaughter.”

  Those not present, seemed almost as interesting. Missing: Alan McCartney and the one called Bald Eagle. Obviously, Alan had sent the expendables in to take the hit. That elevated Mr. Eagle to a whole new level in my mind.

  If Alan had thought him too valuable to risk - what made Eagle such a commodity?

  And Chris, too, of course. Why wasn’t he sent in with the rest of the sheep? Just maybe - he hadn’t been recruited. Yet.

  My mind spun, contriving an alibi that would clear Chris from any dealings with Alan McCartney. Maybe he’d gotten away when the Mize brothers went to snatch him, although that seemed unlikely. More likely: Alan still intended grooming him for a more prestigious place in his ranks.

  Deep in the center of my pondering, I’d managed to lose a grip on the situation. Still hovering over the lifeless body of Dayton Priestley, I felt myself spun and lifted, slung over some beefy shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

  I had only enough time to recognize the fact that all seven vampires were still lying in place, dead as ever - including both Tank and Dozer Mize. Kicking at my attacker’s gut and biting at his shoulder, I gave him my worst. At last he let me go - but not the way I would have preferred.

  Hoisting me overhead, my assailant tossed me through the air a good twenty feet. The hard earth rose up at me fast and with a vengeance. Every bone in my body rattled from the shock and I lay winded.

  An instant later, he crouched over me. I threw my hands up and caught him by the throat. In the darkness, I couldn’t see the face properly for all the snapping, snarling fangs threatening to embed in my neck. It was all I could do to hold him off; never further than an inch from getting his jaws around me.

  Soon enough, my elbows buckled under the weight and fury of the massive vampire. I felt his fang slash my cheek with razor precision. My eyes closed, awaiting the death blow - then the enraged beast shuddered and collapsed, heavy and lifeless, over my body.

  Lyman rolled him off of me, dart gun still in hand.

  “You’re bleeding,” he said, rubbing the cut on my face.

  “I-I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t. It took all my power to turn to my knees and face my assailant. My dead heart, shattered. The question of what had become of Chris McDonald had been answered. The model good looks were still marred by a face of rage, still embedded in his unconscious mask.

  “Let me help you up.”

  Lyman lifted me to my feet and held me steady while I caught my breath. Only then did I notice the white vans scattered around the parking lot; the Helsings busily collecting their new acquisitions.

  Mary-Christine came over to us, dressed like freaking Rambo and carrying that signature Helsing dart gun. She aimed it at the still-unconscious Chris.

  “Not that one!” I stopped her.

  Both she and Lyman railed back like I’d just come at them with a sword.

  “That one’s mine.”

  First Contact with Rage Gas

  “We take them all.” Dave Muscat walked over to Mandy’s pet. Mandy immediately set herself in his path. The rest of the bodies were filled with coagulant and inside the white vans. All guns and ammunition had been cleared up. All the bodies had been tagged, ID’s checked, all paperwork complete. It had taken us less than ten minutes.

  “He stays with me!” she snapped again.

  “Out of my way, you vampire bitch!” Dave went to pass her. But Mandy stopped him with a stiff armed to the chest. Bouncing back, Dave hit the ground, ass first. “What the fuck!” and he drew his gun.

  “Enough!” I roared, closing the distance between us. “Mandy will take care of this one.”

  “I have my orders,” Dave blustered. When he turned to face me, his eyes were burning with rage. “We take them all.”

  I had determined to keep any animosity for Mr. Muscat to a minimum, but he’d immediately tested my patience. “Dave, we’ll leave this one to Mandy. She knows how to handle him.”

  “I have my orders, Lyman.”

  Oh boy. I tried to keep my tone level. “I know what my operating parameters were. I had a long chat with Howard Weeks on the way north, and he assured me I had complete control.”

  Dave looked at me like a bug he was dying to squash. Only for Mary-Christine’s sake did I not take Muscat by the throat then and there.

  I stared him out. “On the ground, here in Harris, only one person gives orders. I have it from the very top.” I pushed his shoulder, turning him around. “Get in your vehicle before I get pissy, Dave. If you’ve got a problem with my authority, take it to the high-ups.”

  I walked away, and as I neared Reynolds, he looked past me and began to run towards me. Behind I heard a click, and a contact of two bodies. A single shot rang out. I felt it sizzle past my ear. I turned to see Hideo, struggling on the dusty ground with Dave Muscat. Hideo wrestled the pistol from Dave’s clutching fingers. “Restraints!” He roared over his shoulder at the paralyzed Helsings.

  A body pressed itself into my side. I smelled the strawberries and smiled.
<
br />   “Hi, Mary-Christine.” I pulled her close, keeping my eyes on the drama before me. In the end it took three men to subdue Muscat, and after they trussed him, hands and feet, they carried him to the back of Hideo’s van.

  The small oriental figure of Hideo Namuchi suddenly appeared at my front, his face was impassive as ever. “My apologies, Lyman Bracks.” He gave a short bow, which, despite Mary-Christine’s hold on me, I returned. “David Muscat will be transferred to Unicorps, pending investigation.”

  I nodded. “Perhaps for the best.”

  “Seven vampires tonight, and no casualties for us. Clint informed me that you got four more in New River.”

  “To start this war.”

  “The Helsing organization is better for your inclusion, Lyman Bracks.”

  “Thank you, Hideo.”

  He turned and left. As I stood holding Mary-Christine, a sheepish Roni Muscat approached. “Mary-Christine? We have to go.”

  “I’m riding home with Lyman, Mom.” Mary-Christine clinched me tighter.

  I shook my head. “Go home with your mom.” I swept her hair from her brow. “Give me a call tomorrow.”

  Roni nodded at me, apparently in thanks.

  The second white van drove away, leaving the four of us on the dusty road.

  I walked slowly to Mandy. Despite her stoic expression, it seemed obvious that she hurt inside. “Is this Chris?”

  She nodded.

  “Where do you want him?”

  She looked at the guy, almost like a kid would look at a dog that had just bit someone, real bad.

  “I need a favor,” she said.

  “Name it.”

  “I need to put him in your safe room for a few days.” She looked up at me. I nodded. “We need to build a table like they have at Atlanta.”

  Oh, boy. Again, I just nodded. With Reynolds’s help, we got him tied and into the back of my car.

  “Gregor?” I asked. No words. We all just nodded in the dark.

  Mandy came with me, and Reynolds drove himself. The journey home proved awkward, brooding, but thankfully, trouble-free.

  “Do you want to talk about him? Chris?” I asked, after we’d drove twenty miles.