I knew the feeling of helplessness when people you love are in danger and there is nothing you can do. I still remembered the sounds coming over the phone. I still remembered the sounds of my children crying and the wet sounds that ended ... ENOUGH!
I had to derail that train NOW! I was too tired to think about my family. That was a road I could not go down. If I did, I would be worthless. I would be crippled. The tears on my face dried in the air from the fan and I pushed my mind away from those memories.
After our argument in the car as to why we were doing what we were doing, I had to have Father Mulcahy put Larson somewhere he could not leave. He had the directions in his head like a messenger pigeon, and if he got out, I knew he would head to Appollonia. I needed him to find her, so he was under lock and key. Kat was working on finding something about her. Gregorios was broken by Appollonia’s possession, so I did not get as much information from him as I should have. I had actually felt a little pity for him. He was a vampire and so I put him down, but I had done it partially as a mercy.
Appollonia was a truly scary bitch if she had me feeling any sympathy for a creature like Gregorios.
And make no mistake about it, he was a monster. Kat had a full report of information about him when we got back. He hadn’t seduced any of his kiss. His pleasure was finding a victim, raping them, then drinking from them to enjoy the flavor all their terror gave the blood. If he really enjoyed the rape, then he would turn them so he could continue in his fun.
This explained why his kiss was all female and why he had them working in a whorehouse. His businesses were his hunting grounds, and all of them also filtered drugs to boost his income and victim availability. Being a vampire was enough to get him killed, but Gregorios had been a real piece of shit too.
Thoughts of Appollonia kept my mind racing also. Speaking to her through Gregorios had been bizarre in itself, but the tone of the conversation had me puzzled. The bitch actually flirted with me. I could not wrap my head around that. I mean, I am well aware when I am being flirted with, and Appollonia sounded genuine. Maybe she was trying to throw me off the fact that she had tried to have me killed. Maybe, but it wouldn’t work. Hell no, it wouldn’t.
The change in her tack had me wondering, though. There had to be a way I could turn it to my advantage. I didn’t know enough about what was going on to formulate a real battle plan. That’s okay, though, I have a hard time planning anyway. As I said, I am more of a “kill ’em all, let God sort it out” kind of guy. But maybe she really did mean her flirting.
I have found in my time on this earth that while I do not appeal to every woman, I do appeal to some. Because my appearance is so polarizing, the women who like the way I look really like the way I look. There are women in this world who I just trip their trigger.
I’m not handsome. Definitely not a pretty boy. What I am is much bigger than a normal man. Most men are under 6 foot tall, and usually weigh in under 250 lbs. At 6 foot 4 inches tall and topping the scales at 320 lbs. in my winter weight, I tower over almost everyone I meet. I keep in shape. I’m not a bodybuilder, but if you are going to kill monsters for a living, you cannot slack on the exercise.
The tattoos also do it for a lot of women. I am covered in tattoos. All kinds of tattoos. Both of my arms are sleeved, including my hands and knuckles. I have tattoos covering my chest, throat, and the back of my head, which I keep shaved. Chicks also really like the shaved head. To sum up, I am a big, bald, tattooed, scary-looking dude, and that gets some women right in their naughty bits.
Maybe this applied to Appollonia. Yes, she was a bloodsucking, undead, soulless monster. But she had been a human woman once. Maybe she was attracted to guys like me. If so, maybe it had some possibilities.
From what I could tell, she had tried to kill me because I am a threat to her plans. I might never find out if that is the case, but now I didn’t care. Things had changed. Tonight was going to be about getting Larson’s family out alive. I know vampires, and I did not think we would be able to get them out unharmed. So alive would have to do. I had doubts about even accomplishing that much.
Like I said, I know vampires. They are treacherous. They don’t lie as bad as demons, but they are still untrustworthy. I had to work on the premise that they were alive because it was all I had. I knew I could count on the promise of their death if we arrived before sunset, but that was my only guarantee.
If Appollonia does not keep her word, though, I would burn her place to the ground with her in it.
And I would use Larson for the match.
13
My dream was not pleasant. It was full of fire and blood and spiderwebs. Dark and spooky, I kept seeing Appollonia’s eyes and hearing the voices of my family. The dream was disjointed and unnerving. In the dream there was nothing to strike at, just a deepening dread that threatened to turn my bones into water. Softly, Appollonia’s voice called my name and every nerve in my spine froze with fear.
Then she touched me.
My eyes popped opened. It took a second to realize that I had my gun in my hand and a woman pinned to my bed. Blinking away sleep, I looked down at the girl. Blue-black hair wildly framed a small, cute face. Her blue eyes were wide with fear, staring unblinkingly at me above her. Tiny white teeth bit into her full bottom lip, and her pixie chin trembled a little. She looked familiar and I worked to make my freshly awake mind place her.
It took a second because the last time I had seen that face it was covered in thick Goth makeup. It was Tiffany, or Tiff, if I preferred.
Pushing off, I scrambled off the mattress. Standing to put my back against the wall made it so I could see her and the open doorway. Brightness from the hallway spilled on the bed, framing Tiff in a box of light like a cage. She did not move and lay looking up at me, eyes still wide. I kept the gun pointing at her. Other than me and her, the room was empty. I didn’t know what was going on and I wasn’t taking any chances.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Tiff looked at me. Her lips moved, but her voice didn’t work. She swallowed and tried again. Her voice was high pitched with nervousness and her words tumbled out in a rush. “I came by for the job like you said last night. Kat gave me to the priest to start working. They were both really busy and I don’t think they knew what to do with me so the priest told me to go get paper towels from the storeroom and sent me back here so I thought this room was the storeroom and I opened the door”—she took a deep, gulping breath and went right back to her explanation—“and I saw you so came in I didn’t mean to do anything I just wanted to thank you for the job and getting me out of that club and I called your name and you moved and then I touched your arm and you grabbed me and threw me down with that gun in your hand”—another great big breath—“and I am sorry, so sorry I shouldn’t have come in here I wasn’t trying to hurt you or scare you.” With that she did move and sit up and put her face in her hands, tears streaming from her eyes. “I’m really sorry, sorry, sorry. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry.” Her voice got quieter with each “sorry” until it was a tissue-thin whisper.
Shit.
Now I felt like an asshole. I live a life of monsters and blood and death, and because of that I had almost killed this innocent girl. I stopped pointing the gun at her. With a deep breath I let the tension in my body flow out and my nerves to settle from DEFCON 1 to DEFCON 5. The fan made the air swirl across my body in a soothing manner.
I realized I was standing there naked.
Good going, Deacon. Smooth. Really, really smooth. Walking around the futon, I went over to the closet and opened the door. Flipping on the light, I set the gun on the small dresser inside that held socks and underwear. Opening the drawers, I took out both. Before you ask, I am a boxer brief guy. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw Tiff wasn’t hiding her face anymore. She was watching me. To hell with it, she had seen the full Monty so I just slipped my boxer briefs on and then pulled out some clothes to wear.
I chose my clothes with toni
ght in mind. Leather pants that laced up the side. They were durable and actually comfortable, as long as it was fall. No way I could wear leather pants in the summer here in the South, I would melt. The leather pants were real-deal biker wear and made from thick leather designed to protect against road rash. I liked them. Besides being comfortable and durable, I knew they would make me look more impressive.
Tonight I didn’t know what to expect, so I dressed myself to look like a threat. Sometimes you can get an edge in a confrontation just based on your appearance. The intimidation factor. Of course, I was dealing with vampires and who knew what else, so I doubted the edge would do much good, but better to try.
I grabbed a shirt, button up and short sleeve, black with a blue threaded pattern on it. A silver-studded belt went through the loops of the pants, and a matching set of silver-studded bracelets was around my wrists. The shoulder holster for the Desert Eagle attached to the belt. I slipped on my socks and boots, then unbuttoned my shirt and applied deodorant and cologne.
My cologne is Escape for Men by Calvin Klein. Occasionally I will switch it with Acqua di Gioia but mostly I wear Escape. I like the way I smell with it. My body chemistry and Escape really work in my opinion. A little unscented lotion for the hands and face, a quick comb through the goatee, and I was dressed. I put the Desert Eagle in its holster and slipped the Taurus at my back and I was ready to face the day. I still had a scared girl on my bed, but at least I wasn’t naked now. Score one for progress.
Speaking of, I turned to Tiff. She was still on the bed but had moved to the edge of the mattress. She had her feet on the floor, her arms around her legs, and her chin on her knees. The pose actually made her look pretty cute. Adorable, in fact. It was a great improvement over looking afraid for her life.
“Sorry about that. I’m a little jumpy when I wake up.” That was an understatement, to say the least.
Her eyes got wide and she shook her head. “No, I shouldn’t have come in here. It was my fault.”
In my head I sighed. I hoped my voice was patient as I spoke, but I can never tell. I usually come off as an asshole when I try not to. It’s like I can’t help it. “We can go round and round about whose fault it is, Tiff. It doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have woken me up, but you didn’t know that I would come to with a gun in my hand.” I moved over until I was standing in front of her.
She looked up at me with her bright blue puppy-dog eyes. They were a bit red and swollen from crying, but she didn’t look scared now, not at all. I held out a hand to her to take. The skin of her palm was cool and soft. The bones delicate under my fingers. Closing my grip, I pulled her up from the bed. Her head came to my chest.
“I say we call it even and go try to round up some food. I’m starving and I think you should know what we have going on here if you are going to be around.”
A nod and a smile on her part and we were off downstairs to find some grub.
14
Everybody was gathered around the prep table in the kitchen. When it wasn’t being used for prep, the employees used it for a table to eat on. Martin, the cook, had the day off with the girls. Polecats was still closed until we got this mess settled. It should be over by tomorrow, but in the meantime, no employees. Well, except for Tiff, I guess. Kat and Father Mulcahy didn’t count. They work for the club, but only because it is part of what I do. They were in for the mission. The big mission of killing monsters.
But because the cook was out, the meal was up to me. Father Mulcahy made a mean pot of chili and did fine with spaghetti, but Kat was hopeless in the kitchen. Left to her own, I am sure she would never cook more than a microwave meal. I actually like to cook. I don’t get to often, but I can, and when I do I enjoy it. I used to love Thanksgiving. I would invite both families over and we would have a houseful of guests that I cooked a traditional southern meal for. My kids loved the million dollar pie and red velvet cake. Now they would never ...
STOP!
I came back to what we were doing with a jolt. Years after and I keep doing that.
Focus.
The here. The now.
Breathe.
Relax.
I felt eyes on me and looked over at Tiff. She was staring at me. Looking into her eyes, I knew she caught what was going on in my head. Maybe not the details, but that something had gone wrong. She gave me a soft smile and then looked away. I looked down at my plate and scooped up another forkful of scrambled eggs covered in cheese and salsa. Chewing mechanically, I swallowed and washed it down with a swallow of sweet tea.
Sweet tea is a southern thing. It is the nectar of the gods. You take five tea bags, boil them in a pot, and then let them sit on the stove to steep for an hour. Grab your two-gallon pitcher and put two inches of sugar in the bottom. Pour the tea over it and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Then add cold water from the tap until the pitcher is full. Viola, southern-style sweet tea. It goes with every kind of food ever made and can be drank for a snack. Folks from the North don’t have sweet tea. They always try to get you to just add sugar to unsweet tea, but it doesn’t work that way. It’s not the same.
So I had whipped up some breakfast for everybody, even though it was midafternoon. Breakfast is a good, hearty meal that you can cook pretty quick. Scrambled eggs with cheese, ham heated in the microwave, biscuits from a can, and sweet tea.
I ate and Tiff ate. Father Mulcahy leaned on the doorway and drank coffee. I knew for a fact it was not his first cup; hell, I was pretty sure it was not his first pot. Father Mulcahy does coffee really well, which is a good thing, because he drinks it all day long. He was holding a saucer that held his coffee cup when he wasn’t drinking and also served as an ashtray for his ever-present menthol cigarette. He is the only man I have ever seen who could take a sip of coffee with a cigarette in his mouth.
Kat had eaten already and nibbled on a biscuit slathered with butter and honey. She was leaning back in her chair with her feet on the edge of the table. She was wearing cutoff shorts and a Sepultura shirt that was older than she was.
Tiff was sitting across the table from Kat. She ate eggs with salsa and no ham. When she passed on the ham the explanation was that she was a vegetarian. Kat had asked why she was eating eggs, then, if she didn’t eat meat. Smiling, she replied, “I don’t kill animals for food, but I am pro-choice.”
That caused Father Mulcahy to suffer from a coughing attack. I didn’t know if he was choking on his coffee or if it was from the cigarette smoke.
Larson was across the table from me. His plate in front of him was as untouched as a nun. He had absolutely no humor at the moment and he looked like shit. Obviously sleep had not come to him. Sitting with his arms crossed, he glared at me through those bloodshot eyes. Dark circles cut under them, making him look almost sinister and slightly mad. My fork crossed the table and tapped lightly on the edge of his plate.
“You should eat something. You will need your strength tonight.”
Larson glared at me some more. He picked up his fork and scooped up some eggs. I took another bite of mine. They were quite tasty even if they were cooling to a rubbery texture. Hey, no matter how good of a cook I am, eggs do that. Larson put his fork down on his plate instead of taking a bite. It made a loud clank as it hit the ceramic. He continued to glare at me as I continued to eat. I took a gulp of sweet tea.
“You got something to say, Larson?”
I was waiting for it. I didn’t know how it was going to come, but I knew it was indeed going to come. His fingers closed on the edge of his plate, jerked, and flung it to the floor. The plate shattered with a loud crash, sending pieces of porcelain, eggs, biscuit, and jelly skittering across the kitchen floor. Tiff jumped, everyone else remained the same. His chair hit the floor as he pushed back from the table and stood, eyes flaming and finger pointing at me.
“Fuck you, Deacon! FUCK YOU! My family has been held hostage by those monsters all day. I know where they are! We should have gone to rescue them! But no, you”—his finger ja
bbed and his face turned a mottled purple. He looked like his head would explode he was so angry. Angry and scared. “YOU LEFT THEM THERE!” Screaming, he came over the table at me, fingers going for my throat.
He was so out of control it was almost too easy. My arm came around, hand connecting with the side of his head as he got on top of the table. It was a good solid backhand, and it did its job. Larson crumpled over on his side, laying awkwardly on the table. Standing, I pinned him to the table with my hand on the side of his face. He was laying twisted with one arm underneath him. His head dangled off my side of the table, his feet flailed in the air on the other side. I loomed over him. Bloodshot eyes rolled up at me.
Again, I know exactly how big I am. I knew I was the only thing he could see. I was his whole world at that second. My arm applied pressure to his neck and I knew it hurt.
So I leaned in a bit more.
“Listen to me. Listen very carefully.” I gave him my best glare. It has been known to make bad guys wet the bed. “I am your only hope. I am the only hope for your family. Me. No one else. You cannot save them. Do you understand?” He stared at me and I shook him. “Do you fucking understand that?”
He nodded. More weight, more pressure, more looming.
“Pay attention. I left your family there because we had no choice. The vampires are asleep during the daylight and they are as safe as they can be. There will be a plan. But know this”—so close our noses almost touched—“it will be my plan. I cannot have you do anything more than what I tell you. If you do not listen, then your family has no chance of living until tomorrow.” I let him go and stood up.
He coughed and rolled over, sliding off the table until he was kneeling on the floor with his head the only thing left resting on the table. There were tears in his eyes. His voice was weak when he spoke.
“How do you know they are still alive?”
Blood and Bullets Page 14