Blood and Bullets

by James R. Tuck

  I thanked her for her compassion, and I meant it, but my mind was back on the job. No matter what else I did tonight, I was getting this girl the hell out of this club.

  Tiff watched me intently, her hand still in mine. Standing hipshot and running her free hand through her hair, she parted her lips to say something. Larson cleared his throat. Color filled her cheeks in the tracks where her makeup had washed away. She swallowed whatever it was she was about to say. A quick glance toward Larson and her fingers trailed out of my grip.

  Larson had the good sense to try to look nonchalant. Hands deep in the pockets of his coat and boots scraping the floor where he was shuffling his feet, he looked embarrassed for interrupting. Tiff turned to the office door with a last look in my eyes.

  Her tiny fist made a sharp knock on the door and she stuck her head in to say something. I saw her nod and then turn, waving us into the office. Larson and I walked in past her. A bashful smile, a touch on the arm from her as she left the room, and the door shut behind us.

  Once closed it was absolutely silent on the other side of the door. It was worth noting that the room was soundproofed. That opened up a world of options for the evening.

  The office was very nicely decorated, if a bit small. Pale blue walls were covered in framed pictures of musicians. A modern black couch sat along the wall beside the door, and two matching leather chairs sat in front of a large oak desk.

  The desk wasn’t new. No, it looked to be almost as old as Gregorios claimed to be. Made of thick oak planks with thin metal filigree on the front-facing surfaces, it was a beautiful antique. It was also everything a desk should be. Heavy and imposing, it gave the illusion of strength. I am sure any musicians the club was screwing out of their cut from the door were suitably impressed.

  Behind the desk was a wall-length aquarium that gave the only light to the room. A greenish blue glow emanated from it. Shadows flitted through it as fish swam to and fro. They were all colorful and exotic. Between the aquarium and the desk sat a man in a chair. He was facing the aquarium, so all we could see were his legs and one arm out to the side of the back of the chair, holding a cigarette. The arm moved behind the chair and we heard the sound of inhaling and saw the exhale of the smoke move to the ceiling in a stream of gray. It disappeared in the dimness and then rolled back down as it hit the ceiling.

  “So, young Tiffany tells me you are here about the position we have to fill.” The voice was deep, rich, and accented. The office chair gave no sound as it spun to reveal the man before us. He looked just like the picture Kat had pulled up. Same hair, same sideburns and moustache, same dark eyes, same flair for the dramatic. A black silk tuxedo shirt with ruffles on top of leather pants and, I swear to God, thigh-high boots. He gestured with a long-nailed hand. “Please, have a seat.” His eyes were deep pools of black in the backlighting of the aquarium.

  I took a deep breath through my nose. Musk from incense, some sharp, astringent cologne, the tang of saltwater from the aquarium, and cigarette smoke. That’s all I smelled.

  He was good.

  But he was no vampire.

  He looked like a bloodsucker, but he wasn’t. Vampires don’t move like the rest of us. They are dead, and because of that they are either too still or too fast. Rarely do they act completely human. The man behind the desk didn’t move right to be anything other than human, but the fact that he didn’t smell like a vampire confirmed it.

  “You are not Gregorios.”

  Sighing, he waved his hand. “And you are not here to work as a bouncer.” Leaning forward over the desk, he lit a candle with a long, slender lighter. It flared slowly to life, the orange light from it lending a predator gleam to those dark eyes.

  I didn’t know his name, but I knew his game. He was a renfield—a human familiar to Gregorios. Renfields share power with the vampire they are tied to. Different vampires and different renfields have different abilities. He would be connected to Gregorios mystically, and by his appearance, he was also Gregorios’s stalking horse—a daytime double to throw people off the vampire trail.

  “No, I am not here for the job.”

  “Then please tell me why you have come to my place of business?” Long fingers steepled in front of his face, dark eyes glittering in the candlelight. Sitting there, he was the personification of everything Goth. I’m sure it made all the little Goth girls go all trembly in the loins, but it was doing jack for me. Tiff popped in my mind. My old friend anger swept through me in a flashfire.

  My mind quickly stacked up possibilities on how to handle this. I didn’t know if he and Gregorios were powerful enough to communicate mind-to-mind. I actually didn’t know what abilities I might be up against. That thing inside me that let me feel vampires and other monsters was quiet, so I was confident they weren’t mind-to-mind at the moment, but that could change instantly. It would probably be wisest to tread lightly until I could get a better handle on the situation. Know exactly what I was up against.

  Yep, I should tread lightly, but where would the fun be in that?

  Dropping myself heavily into the chair closest to me, I threw my feet up on the desk. My boots made a thud against the wood and my coat fell open, revealing the Desert Eagle and the shotgun. Adjusting my position with my elbows on the armrests, I slouched like I had not a care in the world, but my hand was near the trigger of the shotgun strapped to my right thigh.

  With my knee bent up like this, I could probably get a shot off through the holster without damaging my leg too much. The end of the barrel was even with the front of my knee, so all the silver shot should clear me. There was a shell in the chamber, and at four feet away, the shotgun would vaporize his skull; but if you weren’t paying attention, then you might not notice how ready I was to fire. If he pulled some metaphysical crap, or hell, pulled a gun from the desk drawer, I would shoot first and doctor my leg up later.

  Priorities.

  “I am here so you can explain to me why your master tried to kill me earlier tonight.” Whatever he thought I was going to say, that wasn’t it. I watched his face change for just a second before he smoothed back into his act. He knew who I was, but he did not know about the attack on me earlier.

  “Why would my master waste his time trying to kill you? You are no threat to him.” He took a drag off his cigarette and blew the smoke to the ceiling. He was going for nonchalant, but something was up.

  I hate not knowing who I’m talking to. It really bothers me. “What’s your name, pal?”

  “You can call me Gregorios. My master and I are one. To speak to me is to speak to him.”

  Pretentious bastard. Renfields never understand the truth of their situation. They tie themselves to a vampire, and in exchange they gain powers and abilities, plus some longer life, but they are bargaining with a creature they do not understand. It’s like having a lion for a roommate. Yes, your house is safe, and yes, your neighbors fear you, but the day comes that the lion is hungry and you are not a roommate anymore.

  All of a sudden, you are just lunch.

  No matter how fond a vampire may be of a renfield, they will use them up. They don’t care. Bloodsuckers are not human and do not have human emotions. If their renfield is killed, they are furious, but it’s more a wounded pride than a sorrow over loss of a loved one. It’s kind of like the anger you feel when someone scratches the paint on your new car. It is not the same as true sorrow.

  Trust me, I know the pain of losing loved ones.

  This guy had probably been with Gregorios for a long time—years, if not decades. But at the end of the day, he was a tool and a lackey. He was not and would never be equal to his master. He just did not see that he was replaceable. Delusions of grandeur are very tiring.

  I sighed, pulling the air deep in my lungs and letting it out in a slow stream. “All right, Greggie. You know who I am.” It was a statement, but I paused to get confirmation. He nodded to the affirmative. “I leave you guys alone unless I have to.” Not entirely true, I kill them every ch
ance I get, but that would be over-sharing. “Tonight some vampires tried to kill me. Being the biggest player in town, your master is the likeliest candidate for being responsible, so here I am. I want information. If it wasn’t him, then he needs to tell me who to go after. He’s too big a fish in this pond not to know why something like this went down.” Twisting my foot to the left, it tapped against the phone on the desk. “So call him in and I’ll talk with him about it.”

  “My master is not here and would not come just because you called on him. He did not try to kill you; if he had, you would be dead.” See, there were those delusions of grandeur again.

  “So why isn’t he here? See, you need to start talking or I am going to assume that your master did order the hit on me and when it failed, he hit the bricks and left you here to take the fall.” I stood up and leaned over the desk. I know how big I am and I do use that to my advantage sometimes. “Trust me, Greggie. You do not want me to start making assumptions.”

  Larson made a noise that sounded like he was trying to get my attention. I ignored him. I was busy, what could he need that I should stop paying attention to the renfield in front of me to find out what the wannabe behind me wanted?

  The door to the office crashed open and there were the two bouncers from the entry to the club. Ah, maybe that was why Larson was trying to get my attention. I had a moment to look over my shoulder to see them shoving Larson out of their way, moving toward me. He stumbled and crashed into the wall, slumping down to the floor in a daze.

  My fingers curled and grabbed the edge of the desk. Tension sang in my arms and shoulders as I heaved and flipped it toward Greggie. It was a heavy damn thing, probably weighing close to a thousand pounds. If I had tried to press it, I would not have been able to make it budge, but I just needed it over, and that was just a matter of leverage. With my height and size, I had leverage in spades.

  The desk landed on Greggie’s legs, knocking him and the chair he was in to the ground. It had the effect I wanted, he was pinned to the ground and I could deal with the bouncers.

  I spun around to face them, my hand snatching the ASP from its pocket. A quick flick of my wrist and a loud snickt! extended the baton to thirty-one inches of steel in my right hand. The ASP is a collapsible steel baton. It opens like magick and locks in place. Why did I grab the ASP and not the Desert Eagle? Because I was now dealing with humans.

  I really try to only kill monsters. The only thing I had on these two was the fact that they were human; besides that, I knew nothing about them, so I opted for relatively nonlethal force. You can crack someone’s skull with the ASP, but you have more control to avoid lethality. On the left was the one who was taller than me but thinner; on the right was the shorter but wide and thick bouncer. They looked a little Mutt and Jeff, but these bozos could hurt someone.

  I remembered their actions outside. The one on the left had picked up on what I was; the one on the right had just been pissy because I am bigger than him. The one on the left I assumed was the more dangerous of the pair because the one on the right was a bully. Bullies come with their own set of problems. They are usually sneaky and vicious if they do attack you. The biggest problem I had was that there were two of them.

  Anytime you are outnumbered, you stand a good chance of losing the fight, especially if you are limiting yourself on what you will and will not do, like not killing anyone. That was my plan, not killing either of them, but I was holding the option open. The only solution was to take them out as quickly and as efficiently as possible. Which one to choose first, which one?

  The decision was made for me as the tall one on the left moved forward in a martial art stance and the bully on the right stepped back. He was going to wait and let the other one get started before jumping in. He was a bully, but he wasn’t stupid. The tall one stepped forward and faked a front snap kick to get my attention, then moved into a fluid straight punch to my head. It was good. He was muscled enough to put a lot of force behind the punch and long-armed enough to make it difficult to avoid. I would bet he was hell on unruly club patrons.

  His problem was that I am not a club patron. I am stronger than humans and faster. Worst of all for him, I knew how to use that strength and speed from almost two decades of martial art study. Hurrah for full-contact combat karate. My left arm came up to block the punch. Muscle and bone hit muscle and bone. Using what I was taught, I snaked my hand around his forearm, sliding to his wrist and clamping my fingers down on the bones.

  Most of the time in a fight when you block, you simply knock the punch or kick away. I was taught trapping. If someone extends a limb to you in a punch or kick, you grab it and take it from them. Grinding the bones in his wrist with my left hand, I twisted, using my mass to pull him forward. I was strong enough to jerk him off balance and into my body. My left hand had his right arm and it was pressed across my chest. I threw my right elbow into his face and it caught him flush on cheek below his eye. Bone-to-bone contact hurts. His head whipped to the right and I smashed my elbow into the side of his face again. It connected with the cluster of nerves in the side of his jaw and I felt his knees go. His body slid down mine and he fell into a boneless puddle.

  Out cold.

  I let go of him as he fell, stepping over his body and turning on my heel. Using my own momentum, I whipped the ASP into the neck of the other bouncer who was coming up behind me, knife in hand. The steel rod sounded loudly as it smacked into the side of his neck and drove him to his knees. The blade sailed from his hand and skittered across the floor under the couch.

  Chubby hands flew up to the side of his neck. Stepping around him, I swung the ASP into his exposed side, just below his ribcage. Breath flew from his lungs with a grunt. He collapsed on the floor gasping for air, his face turning purple. I leaned out the office door to check if the hallway was clear. It was. Apparently these were the only two bouncers coming to help Greggie. Two bouncers for a club this size? No wonder they were looking for help.

  Stepping back into the office, I closed the door. Now all I could hear was the gurgle of the fish tank, the gasps of the bully, and Greggie cursing me from under the desk that pinned him to the floor. Another smell joined the others in the room, the ammonia stench of urine from where the bully had pissed himself. What a tough guy.

  Larson had been thrown to the ground and was getting back to his feet, scrambling to avoid the spreading puddle the bully was laying in. Greggie was trying to move the desk off of himself and was still cursing me. Wires trailed from one of the feet of the desk. I assumed they were from the button Greggie had pushed to call in the bouncers. Stepping over, I put my foot on the desk. Leaning my considerable weight on it caused him to stop moving.

  His face was white as a sheet and sweat stood like crystal beads across his brow. I would bet he had a broken bone under that desk. Everybody gets the same sick look on their face when they break a bone. It hurts in a completely new way, driving nausea through your guts, making you feel like you will puke your asshole up through your throat.

  I felt him reach out to his master mind-to-mind. It’s hard to explain, but that thing inside me that recognizes magick felt the brush of it. It was as if there were moths beating their wings against the inside of my head.

  I leaned harder on the desk. Greggie paled to the color of wet paper and the moths ceased. He turned his head and bile vomited from his mouth, missing his chest but covering one shoulder and soaking into his long, black hair. I was right about the broken bone, that’s the only thing that makes you react the way he was. The pain of applying pressure on it had cut his concentration and prevented him from making the connection with his master.

  I spoke to Larson without turning my attention from Greggie. “Go ask Tiffany if they have any rope or anything we can use to tie these three up so we don’t have to worry about them.” He moved to the door without question. I heard it open, the music blared in, and then it closed and we were back to the quiet of the office. I looked down at Greggie; he had stopped cu
rsing me and was just glaring.

  “Soooo ...” I said, drawing the word out in sarcasm. “We should revisit the conversation we were having earlier. Before you invited these two for company. Where can I find the real Gregorios to ask him some questions?”

  He glared at me more. His long black hair was in disarray around his head and stuck to his face with sweat and vomit. His lips pulled tight in a line of refusal.

  I leaned on the desk again.

  Dark eyes rolled back in his head and sweat broke on his forehead into rivulets that ran down the waxy skin. A small moan of pain slipped through his lips. His pupils were tiny dots when his eyes opened. They jittered around with pain. When he finally focused on my face, I looked the question at him.

  The door behind me opened and closed quickly; the music flared and died. I spun around, ASP still in my hand and ready at my side. It was just Larson. He was holding a long orange extension cord, a roll of gray duct tape, and a pair of chrome handcuffs in his hands.

  He didn’t flinch when I turned on him, so I guess he was getting used to this kind of thing. I looked at the stuff in his hands. “Okay, the duct tape and extension cord I can see, but where the hell did you find a pair of handcuffs?”

  He actually blushed a little. “They belong to Tiffany. She wanted to know what we needed them for, but I convinced her to stay where she was instead of coming back here.”

  “Good.” I took the duct tape and started using it to secure the two bouncers. I was careful to avoid the puddle of piss around the bully. “She doesn’t need to be involved in this, but we are not leaving her here when we go.” He nodded, and stood holding the handcuffs and extension cord.

  He had actually done well at getting the stuff. Duct tape, properly applied, is plenty strong enough to hold a normal human. Most renfields, however, share some of their master’s strength and it would not be enough to hold Greggie. The extension cord, because it’s a bunch of wire bound together, is extremely strong. It and the handcuffs should be more than enough to secure Greggie. It made me wonder if Larson had gotten lucky, or if maybe, just maybe, he was figuring out what we were up against.