Blood Crusade

by Billita Jacobsen

  Taking my cell phone out of my purse, I intended to call Lance and tell him to meet us here at our temporary home when he arrived in Vegas. "Wait a minute Nola, before we attend to our apocalypse business, I'd like to call in that favor you owe me," said the professor.

  It was so annoying when something promised came due. "All right Harold, what do you need?"

  "We need to drive to Utah, to the cabin, to pick up my dog."

  It wasn't intended to be audible but it came out anyway. “Shit. For real, a road trip? Now? At this very moment?”

  "No time like the present," Harold said, throwing that old cliché at me. "Besides, we have a lot to do when we get back. I haven't looked through all the contents of the briefcase either. There's a wealth of information in there that Hypatia left, it may help us to defeat Claudius."

  So we left the comfort of the house and journeyed on that special highway to hell when you must travel with two screaming infants down the seemingly endless road. The children both wailed their disapproval of our expedition with Alexander’s howls proving more ear piercing than Robin’s cries. She became car sick an hour into my torment and projectile vomited in my direction, like Mount Vesuvius explosively erupting magma. All this vomit in my life was getting on my nerves.

  After pulling over to clean up the baby puke, everyone seemed more accepting of our travels and the babies settled down to sleep. Harold refused my offer to drive. “Nola, just talk to me. Tell me more of how you became a werewolf. I’d like to understand how to adjust to my predicament.”

  It was the same type of dreary, moonlit evening on an unforgiving road that had created my outcome. If only I’d driven during the bright, sunny day, my daughter and I would never have been separated. “I took my little girl to a river education day. My husband, Sean, was sick and couldn’t go with us. He insisted we go and have fun…”

  I told him everything about the experience, including the years and years of practice with The Master before I learned to control the werewolf side of me. I hoped he didn’t find that discouraging in his quest to tame the beast he would soon become. I laid my head against the cold car window. Telling my tale to the professor had left me feeling exhausted. Harold continued steering the wheel with one hand and patted me on the arm with another. "I'm so sorry Nola, you've been through quite a lot."

  I shut my eyes and was soon swimming with some mournful whales and mermaids with vampire fangs, searching for my daughter in the dark, deep, ocean. Even the sorrowful cries of the whales didn't rouse me, it was the professor shaking me that woke me up. "Nola, we’re here, wake up. Did you know that you snore like a drunken sailor?"

  Chapter 13: Tiny Hell Hound

  The car was stopped in front of a small chalet that had a bright porch light on, attracting every flying insect from the darkness into its light. “Is this your cabin?” I inquired.

  “No,” the professor replied. “We dropped off our dog with a neighbor on our way to find help for Hypatia. He’s been there long enough, he should be with me.”

  A face peered from behind a curtain at the cabin window, an elderly woman with her white hair swept up in a bun. She opened the curtain with one hand and was holding a small dog nestled in her other arm. “That’s Natalie, one of the few people Go-Go likes,” the professor said. “I’ll go get him and we’ll head to our cabin.”

  “Wait a minute. We have time to return to Vegas, it’s not safe at your cabin, they’ll be looking for you.”

  “Nonsense,” the professor said. “The cabin is the last place they’ll think of looking for me. Besides, I will not take a chance on having a flat tire or some other calamity that will endanger Alexander. I refuse to see him burned to death by the sun. It will be daylight in a few hours. We’ll spend the day at the cabin and leave at next nightfall.”

  Seeing the determination in his eyes, I could only mumble, “Okay, great.”

  Alexander and Robin were strangely quiet in the back seat. They simply stared at me, as if waiting to see what would come next. Alexander popped out his fangs and stuck out his tongue. Taking this kid anywhere in public was going to be a definite problem.

  The professor returned to the car, carrying a leaping, squirming, small bundle of dog that was obviously overjoyed to see him. He was furiously licking Harold’s beaming with happiness face. “This is Go-Go,” he said smiling and petting the tiny six pound canine.

  Neighbor Natalie was watching him go from the brightly lit window, probably unaware that she stood out like an actor under a spotlight. She was holding an old landline phone to her ear, talking to someone. My internal warning signal went off and was quickly ignored.

  Driving with one hand, to a cabin he once shared with his loving wife, Harold held on tightly to the little dog with his other arm. “You know, images of Chihuahuas were found on the pyramids at Chichen Itza. Go-Go has a very ancient, proud heritage, don’t you baby?” The professor was talking in that soft-pitched, phony voice people reserve for children and animals. It usually annoys me but I found it quite endearing coming from the professor.

  Go-Go was mostly brown, a shorthaired dog with a white chest and paws with tan spots. His ears were huge and stood erect. I reached over to pet him. He gazed directly at me with his large, round eyes that reflected complete and utter madness. My hand froze in midair. He lunged at me and began yapping ferociously. The professor had to get a grip on him as the Chihuahua tried frantically to get his tiny jaws and sharp miniature teeth into my skin.

  “He’s trying to bite me! Your dog is crazy!” I exclaimed, flustered.

  The children began laughing. They seemed to love the antics of the tiny maniac. “What if he tries to bite the children?”

  “Settle down, Go-Go, it’s alright, she won’t hurt you,” he cooed to the mad beast. “Nola, he won’t harm them, he loves children. It’s adults he can’t stand.”

  I had never before met a dog I didn’t like or trust. Actually, dogs always loved me, they were my good friends at Camelot Farm and always wanted my attention. There’s nothing better in life than a dog gazing lovingly at you, completely without judgement. Go-Go was the first dog to hate me for no apparent reason. So naturally, I instantly disliked him. The dog continued yapping at me until we arrived at the cabin, the only dog I ever knew to glare at me with hate.

  I had expected a marvelous chalet. We had passed quite a few that were log cabin mansions, but the professor parked in front of a simple, modest a-frame. He hesitated, still holding the lunging Chihuahua, before opening the door. I carried the babies, who were squirming as much as Go-Go was. We walked into a nightmare.

  The place reeked with a horrible odor that takes time to ferment and seep into a structure. Then Harold turned on the lights. He was standing meekly in a corner, clutching the now silent dog. We were in the kitchen which had a view of the open layout, but it wasn’t a typical a-frame cabin.

  Its plain outside look denied the subdued elegance inside. The soaring sloped ceilings were adorned with rustic wood beams and the kitchen had a contemporary look with stainless steel appliances, soapstone counter tops, and pendant lighting. Someone with impeccable taste had decorated, with antiques adorning the living room and tasteful artwork on the walls.

  Its cozy atmosphere was shattered by what had taken place there. Blood and vomit were on the wide plank wood flooring, the trestle dining table, even the kitchen walls. The champagne glasses were shattered on the floor, a reminder of Hypatia’s poisoning.

  Harold was frozen in the corner, silent, holding the dog and looking forlorn. Go-Go was licking his face, having turned from Mr. Hyde back into normal doggy Dr. Jekyll. Obviously, I had to take charge of our current situation.

  Still carrying the babies, not knowing where to put them down, I walked into the living room. A dramatic fireplace made of river stones was in one corner and heavy drapes were open on the floor to ceiling windows, showcasing a magical view of the starry night. A long staircase led to the loft bedroom. “Professor,” I slipped, forge
tting to call him Harold, “take the babies upstairs while I clean up.”

  He took no notice of my name-calling mistake and put the furry fury down on the floor. In silence, he took the children from my arms and carried them upstairs. Go-Go looked at me, growled and barked, and followed the professor to the loft.

  Putting my mind to the task at hand, I opened a few doors and found some cleaning supplies--scrub brushes, bucket, mop, bleach and vinegar from a kitchen cabinet to neutralize the odor. I scrubbed away the remainder of Hypatia’s final pain and pondered why the universe kept throwing vomit in my direction. It couldn’t have any good meaning.

  It took over an hour of scrubbing but the cabin smelled fresh and clean and could now provide a little comfort. I left the kitchen door open and a lovely mountain breeze purified the living space. After bringing our bags in from the car, I closed the heavy drapes, anticipating the morning sun, and headed for the couch to take a nap. A sharp pain in the back of my calf made me spin around to face the silent assassin, Go-Go, who had quietly come downstairs to bite me when I wasn’t looking.

  Yapping incessantly now that I had discovered him, he ran behind me to crunch into my leg again. Tempted to kick him, I held back, not wanting to be a jerk to the professor’s tiny asshole of a dog. Instead, I whirled around to face him while transforming my human face into my most savage werewolf features and growled loudly, “Knock it off! Bad dog!”

  He yelped like I had kicked him and ran upstairs to the loft, crying piteously. “What did you do to my dog?” The professor peered over the loft banister, looking quite upset.

  “I didn’t do anything to that little monster--he bit me!” I felt a little ashamed about making a big deal out of it, my wounds always healed so quickly and it didn’t hurt anymore but still, the dog was clearly a menace.

  The professor stomped downstairs, carrying the babies, Go-Go hiding behind him, still yipping. I had scared the shit out of the diabolical little canine. The professor looked for a moment like he was going into a tirade but after gazing at the living room and kitchen, now sparkling fresh and clean, he sheepishly said, “Thank you, Nola. I’m sorry I didn’t help you.”

  He was clearly at the breaking point. Taking the children from him, convinced the dog would now be docile, I placed them on the clean floor so they could crawl around. Alexander decided to float around the room instead and the dog romped after him, wagging his tail. Robin simply sat in place, content to watch her brother hover.

  “Can I make you some tea, Harold?” There was a copper antique teapot in the kitchen and I’d seen tea in the cabinet when finding the vinegar. Having never acquired a taste for tea, it nonetheless seemed like the calming beverage to offer someone who was in distress.

  “That would be lovely, Nola, thank you.” He settled into the couch, still silent, but smiling at Alexander’s antics. The dog clearly was fond of children. He rolled on his back under Alexander, wagging his tail so hard that his body wiggled.

  Like the clinically insane, this dog’s mood turned as quickly as the weather in the Midwest. Perhaps sensing that I wouldn’t change into werewolf form in front of Harold, he went for a front end assault, leaping and tearing at my jeans. The professor jumped from the couch, grabbing and chastising him. “No, Go-Go, no! This is my friend, you behave!”

  The dog looked at the professor with pleading eyes, begging for forgiveness. Clearly, Go-Go would do anything to please the professor. He stared at me and wagged his tail. "Nola, you can pet him now." The professor now looked at me with pleading eyes.

  I guess I would do anything to please the professor too. I slowly touched my hand to the dog’s head and began petting him. Alright, I'd call a truce. The dog rolled over, displayed his stomach, and waited for me to rub him. I complied. Go-go moved his mouth towards my hand, I froze in anticipation of a bite, but he proceeded to lick me.

  “He’s so sweet!” I exclaimed, happy to be friends with the little dog. The professor, satisfied that his work making amends was completed, sat on the floor by Robin and watched Alexander hover about the room.

  Go-Go turned to me and snarled, showing his teeth, his insane eyes bulging out of their sockets. “Harold, he’s growling at me!” I complained with surprise. As soon as the professor turned to look, the dog shut his mouth and wagged his tail, making me look like the crazy one.

  “Nonsense,” Harold said, turning his attention to the children, “he likes you now.”

  Again, the professor’s eyes off of him, Go-Go showed his teeth without a sound coming from his mad mouth. He had hoodwinked me-- this dog was pure evil. He turned to look at Harold, lifting his paw and leaning to the side, wagging his tail. Convinced he would not be seen by his loved one, he crept closer to me, his fangs dripping saliva. Abruptly, he had a change of heart. He lifted his tiny head as he sniffed the air and decided to run around the living room while he yapped incessantly.

  This dog was freaking me out. Did he hear something outside or was he playing a diabolical game with me? Remembering the kitchen door had been left open, I rushed to shut it and lock the bolt. It was pitch black outside but it seemed like something moved near a large pine tree. Suddenly feeling very uneasy, I wondered why my gut feeling about not coming to the cabin was ignored.

  The dog was running along the wood floor, his nose close to the ground, like he smelled something underneath the cabin. "I've never seen him act like that," the professor said.

  A weird, scratching sound was coming from the floor. "Harold, what's underneath the floorboards?" I asked, stomping my foot on the wood, as if that would provide an answer.

  "It's probably a raccoon," Harold answered. They sometimes go under the a-frame, there is a bit of space down there, under the structure. We just let them be.”

  The scratching sound suddenly became much louder, as if something with claws was under the cabin, cutting along the floor. The dog was really going crazy now, running across the room, following the sound and howling.

  "Harold, grab the children and get behind the couch, I know what it is. We’re under attack!”

  We were all in panic mode now. The professor moved the couch so he could get the children under cover. The dog ran in circles, clearly not knowing what to do. I prepared to turn into my werewolf form and ran into the kitchen, quickly fetching my dagger out of my purse.

  The floorboards buckled upward and wood unexpectedly splintered with a roaring crack like thunder. Three vampires rose from below the cabin amid pieces of broken floor and clouds of dust. I recognized them from the kitchen nightmare scene at Claudius’ compound. Two of them rose to the ceiling, surveying the room, the murderers of the mother of Robin and Alexander. I could take great pleasure in killing them, if that was possible. The other vampire pointed at Harold huddled behind the couch with the babies. “We’ve finally found you Harold, you’re in big trouble,” he hooted.

  “Oh, we’re going to have fun with you,” one of the two assassins bellowed, swooping down in my direction. Before he was upon me I changed into werewolf form and startled him enough to turn the tables. I leapt on him and plunged the silver dagger deep into his heart. He was dust.

  His partner was not so easy. He grabbed my hand and twisted, causing me to drop my precious weapon. We embraced in a death struggle, falling to the floor and rolling like two crocodiles trying to finish off their prey. I was unable to help Harold, the children, or the crazy little dog.

  I struggled to reach my dagger and was finally able to feel its familiar, comforting, cold hardness in my hand. I lashed out at the vampire who held me in a death grip but was able to only wound him on his face, arms, and legs. Blood splattered along the floor and walls as he took some bites out of my neck.

  Finally, summoning every ounce of energy in my werewolf body, I attached my stronger teeth to his neck and twisted my head with fury. Shaking his body back and forth, I didn’t lesson my grip until he turned into dust. I turned to help the family I had come to love, well everybody but Go-Go anyway.

&n
bsp; Harold actually had the vampire pinned against the wall. Go-Go was hanging onto the assassin’s leg, teeth firmly entrenched. Alexander floated alongside the professor and Robin was crying. I planted my dagger into the vampire’s head. “I’ve got this, Harold,” I said.

  “I can’t believe how strong I am,” Harold said in admiration of his new found werewolf might. He detached Go-Go from the vampire’s leg.

  Hoping to get some information from the last remaining vampire attacker, I kept him pinned against the wall and asked, “How did you find us? Are there more coming?”

  He weakly laughed and replied, “You’re in big trouble. Of course there will be more coming. You could thank your neighbor for letting us know where you were but she’s dead. She didn’t get to collect the reward out on Harold. In fact, all who know you will join her,” he looked at the professor with cold, hard eyes that knew what was imminent.

  I thought about reciting the Camelot pledge, but only for a second, he just needed to die and quickly. Removing the dagger from his head, I plunged it deeply into his heart and watched him turn into dust and join his friends. His dust also contributed to the mess that now engulfed the cabin--a big gaping hole in the ground where the oak floor had been, blood on the walls, furniture upended--it was again a gigantic jumble. That was infuriating; I had worked so hard to get it clean. I wouldn’t be repeating that job.

  “Professor,” I said, slipping up again on his name, “gather our things, we’ve got to get out of here. I’ll drive; we’ll make it back in time.” He didn’t argue. Breathing deeply, hoping to summon some energy to continue our journey, the familiar odor of vampire infection hit my nostrils. Damn it, Go-Go had ingested the blood of the vampire he bit. Stupid dog.