by C. T. Phipps
The dude could just be acting like a Dracula Expy in order to get people to lower their guard. Let's face it, I was here because I suspected he was running a business smuggling vampires out of the city. Which meant he was willing to challenge the voivode and defy the Vampire Nation's laws.
“What's it like to live for centuries?” Melissa asked.
“Tiring,” Yorga said, chuckling. “Honestly, it's wonderful. I don't get all of these younger vampires who keep complaining about their condition. In my day, you were lucky to live to thirty and if you did, you looked fifty. The very fact you don't have to use the bathroom anymore strikes me as something every vampire should be grateful for.”
“I hadn't thought of that,” Melissa said, blinking. “Ever?”
“Nope!” Yorga said. “We also—”
I decided to screw the pleasant chit-chat. “We need to speak with Eaton. Now.”
Yorga narrowed his eyes. “Eaton? I don't know what you mean.”
I frowned, adjusting my sunglasses so they covered my eyes completely. “Cut the crap, Yorga. We know you're harboring him like you've done so many others over the years. He's fucked up his position in the city and we need to—”
That was when he grabbed me by the throat and smashed me through the countertop.
“Jesus!” Melissa shouted, falling backward.
Yorga reacted like he'd had an air horn blown right next to his ears. He stopped smashing me up to cover his ears. He then grabbed me by the sweatshirt, lifting me up and hissing at me.
“Who sent you!?”
His hair had gone from graying to pure jet-black, and his irises were a brilliant shade of red. He looked about twenty years younger, and an aura of power and terrifying majesty surrounded him, putting to lie his earlier appearance.
“The voivode,” I choked out. “She sent me.”
“Liar!” Yorga shouted, hurling me across the Burgertown dining area and slamming me into a pair of tables. “It was Ashura who paid me. Gave me the go-ahead to smuggle him out so he could avoid the sun.”
Dammit, that was something I should have expected. Ashura had been covering for her child for years. Why should a measly terrorist attack be any different? That didn't increase my chances of getting out of there alive, though.
Yorga climbed over the countertop and grabbed Melissa by the neck, throwing her over his shoulder into the soda fountain. That inspired me to get up, pull out my pistols, and start firing into Yorga.
They might as well have been squirt guns.
“Now you are going to tell me who sent you before I rip your head clean off!” Yorga said, walking forward with a slow, deliberate executioner's grace.
David mentally contacted me. Eaton is making a run for it!
Now is not the time!
I'm going after him!
No!
I was terrified for David, but I didn't have any options as Yorga was already upon me, ready to make good on his threat. “I'll talk, I'll talk!”
My attempts to buy time (HA!) for my time powers to kick in didn't do much good. Yorga raised me up by my throat. Two long claws popped out from his index and middle fingers as he raised them back to impale me through the eyes. It wasn't ripping my head clean off, but maybe he was saving that for later.
“Who is—” Yorga didn't get to finish because Melissa placed two straws crossed together against his face and started saying the Lord's Prayer. Okay, that was never going to work even if it was causing my head to hurt. Then Yorga's face caught fire.
“Argh!” Yorga shrieked, dropping me and holding his flaming face while the straws melted in the cross-shaped brand she'd created on his face.
“OK, that’s an extreme reaction even by our standards,” I said, climbing to my feet.
“Shoot him!” Melissa shouted, looking for another possible weapon to use against him.
That was when I reached into my jean pocket and pulled out the bone dagger Thoth had given me. I didn't actually want to kill Yorga, as that was crossing the Rubicon when you were undead. Maybe it was a double standard that I now worried about killing my fellow bloodsuckers more than humans, but it was how I felt now. Either that, or I was thinking any man who tried to do the maggot joke couldn't be all bad.
So I just cut him across the arm with it. Sure enough, the wound caused him to shriek again before I held the dagger to his throat. “This can kill you forever, Old One. Get out of here and leave Eaton to me.”
The hideous skinless burned face of Yorga turned to me, his eyes regenerating where everything else most certainly was not. The look he passed me was one of pure hatred. Hissing, he looked at his arm, then—I shit you not—turned into a fruit bat before flying out the glass wall of the Burgertown behind me. By the way, you may ask why fruit bat and not vampire bat? Well, the answer is fruit bats are fucking huge.
I stared, not quite sure what had happened. “Did we win?”
Melissa nodded. “Yeah.”
That was when I noticed a sesame seed-covered hamburger bun on the ground and had to pick it up. “That's great. We should go make sure David is alive.”
1 …
2 …
3 …
Melissa slapped it out of my hands.
Chapter Sixteen
I stumbled out of the Burgertown, hoping David was all right. The two of us had known each other for seven years and had a brief friendship during high school before his family had moved to a better part of town. I tried to contact him mentally, but my head was still ringing from where it had been pounded repeatedly against the ground.
My wounds had already healed, though, thanks to the potent blood in my veins. Werewolf blood was more nourishing, more powerful, and I felt stronger for having drunk it. I hoped—and it surprised me to think this—that Eaton had gotten away, because I'd prefer to let go the man I hated most than let David chase him down and get killed.
Not that I was going to tell David that.
Much to my surprise, I saw the parking lot contained a wreck with my cousin's Dodge Dakota smashed into the side of a cherry-colored SUV and the figure of Theodore Eaton trapped in between. David was standing in front of the sight, chuckling to himself and looking at the paralyzed vampire. Apparently, a piece of metal must have buried itself into Eaton's heart during the car wreck. Either that or he'd just been so smashed to pieces that he hadn't been able to regenerate.
“Booyah!” David said, sticking his fingers in the air with V signs. “Who’s the man?”
I ignored him and stared at Eaton. The incapacitated vampire's face was contorted into a display of agony, his fangs on full display and sweat pouring down his face. Unlike what you'd see in some movies, vampires still had some non-bloody fluids running through them. Not the ones that most mattered, mind you, and I've got to tell you that was a real shock the first time I had sex post-creation.
Seeing Eaton helpless before me, though, drove out all of those quirky little observations. Instead, all I could feel was a kind of sadistic joy at the son of a bitch's state. I could imagine dragging him back to my trailer and burning away little bits of him in the sun for years. I wanted to pluck out his eyeballs, set them on fire, and make him hear as they burned nearby. I wanted to reach over and—
“Jesus Christ,” David said. “That's cold-blooded shit.”
“Ow!” I said, grimacing. “Don't say that!”
“Don't project your Saw fantasies in my head!” David replied. “I was never fond of the torture porn genre, especially when Hostel made me too scared to go on a European vacation and thus miss my chance to have sex with everyone willing to sleep with the horny American.”
“I was kidding,” I said, trying to explain my violent thoughts away.
“You really weren't.”
“We need to get out of here,” Melissa said, looking around at the sky for flying bats.
“I don't think Yorga is coming back,” I said.
“The police then?”
“In Old Detroit? Why, did someo
ne offer them a bribe to come by?”
Melissa rolled her eyes. “You're terrible.”
“I'm sorry,” I said, grinning from ear to ear. “This is just … so perfect.”
Eaton made a couple of noncommittal grunts. He then muttered something that resembled a racial epithet.
“I'm sorry, what was that?” I said, cupping my hand to my ear. “I couldn't hear that over all the schadenfreude.”
Eaton clenched his teeth. “I called you a worthless n—”
I climbed on top of the car hood, crouched down, grabbed him by the face, and placed my thumbs on his eyes. “I dare you to finish that sentence.”
He did.
I started pushing his eyes into the back of his head.
“Peter!” Melissa shouted.
“He deserves worse!” I hissed. “You don't know what he's done.”
“Torture isn't the way,” Melissa said.
“He put an eight-year-old girl in front of me after starving me for a week.”
Melissa blinked. “Kill that son of a bitch.”
“Thank you!” I said, trying to figure out what way to do it. I didn't know if I could rip his head clean off, but it was certainly worth trying.
“You need this guy,” David said, looking uncomfortable. “Alive. Unalive. In one piece. However you want to phrase it. Otherwise, you're going to probably be in trouble with the voivode for killing her child.”
Dammit. Why the hell did I have such a politically apt servant? “Yeah, I suppose you're right. What they'll do to him is far worse than I could ever think of. You're about to get fucked, Eaton, with no Vaseline.”
Like I said, torture wasn't really something vampires did during interrogations. Torture was done as a method of punishment. It was used as a “scare you straight” example the way the death penalty was, but a lot more effective, as executions were done in secret among humans but as sunburnt flayed bodies among the undead. I let go of Eaton, very reluctantly, before slapping him with the back of my hand.
Eaton hissed at my face, spitting a bit of blood at me and getting my pants legs. It was about the worst insult you could do among the undead since it was the equivalent of saying you weren't worth drinking from. “I'm protected, Stone. Ashura is the one who created me and once named me above all her other children. I'll be out in a few months.”
I stepped down off the hood. “You were running, Eaton. Also, you tried to blow up the Apophis.”
“I didn't know—”
“Yeah, you were only trying to help Renaud kill Thoth. You might have gotten away with just that, but Renaud was running the show and everyone is terrified of him according to what I've heard. Also, he did try to blow up the Apophis and that affects a lot of Ancients’ bank accounts. They're not going to be forgiving that, and Ashura isn't going to be able to protect you. Besides, I've seen her other children. They all look like sexy movie vampires, and you've let yourself go this past century. You're done.”
Surprisingly, Eaton was silent.
“Are you sure he's not going to get away with this?” Melissa asked. “Because we can cover him in gasoline and burn him right now. We also have that dagger of yours if you want to stab him enough times. There's also that enchanted shotgun in the back. Decapitation works well on vampires. Does it count if you blow their heads clean off?”
I stared back at her. “Damn girl, you've got a serious bipolar thing going on here. Are you for or against torture?”
“I'm against torture, unless they're evil psychopath sonsofbitches.”
“I'm against torture, period,” David said. “But we need to know everything we can if we're to prevent further destruction. I'm thinking when you turn me I can become a vampire detective.”
I looked back at David. “You're no Hannibal King, David.”
“Ryan Reynolds?” David said, confused. “No, I meant more like Angel.”
“Hannibal King was the first vampire detective in the Tomb of Dracula comic,” I explained. “That's actually where Blade first showed up. You know he was British originally? Idris Elba should have been him for maximum faithfulness, but that's not to put down Snipes because Snipes is God.”
“And you complain about my geekiness.”
“There's nothing geeky about comics,” I said defensively. “Just sci-fi movies. Star Wars exempted because everyone loves Star Wars.”
“Is Billie Dee Williams a vampire? My mom might have liked them if he was.”
“Not that I know of. You want to go make him one?”
“Yes, please. Will Smith too.”
“Hell no on Will Smith. I'm not going to ruin my chances with other black vampire women. I have enough trouble with Thoth around.”
Melissa shrugged. “We could do Jada as well.”
“Now you're talking.”
“That is such bullshit!” David said, appalled at Melissa asserting his position. “You just don't want to admit you like the same kind of movies I do.”
“You're right. I will never admit it.”
“By the Elder Gods!” Eaton shouted, choking on his own words. “I'll tell you anything you want to know … if you'll just … shut … up!”
Huh, interrogation by annoyance. I'd have to write that one down for later.
“Why did you do it?” David asked, staring at Eaton in confusion.
“I don't talk to bloodslaves,” Eaton said, choking a bit before trying to raise a hand up to move the car in front of him. He couldn't do it. “I'll only answer to the vampires.”
“You'll answer or we'll discuss the ins and outs of Blacula,” I said, smiling. “I, for one, would love to see a remake with Jamie Foxx as Prince Mamuwalde. They could do a whole Coming to America thing with him looking for his bride in Queens.”
“I'd rather you torch me and leave me for the sun.” Eaton slumped his shoulders. “Ask your questions.”
“Did you really do all of this for money?” David asked. “I mean, you're a vampire and have one of the richest in the world as your creator.”
“You act like money … isn't the most important thing to … vampires.” Eaton actually looked depressed. “I was once one of the richest men in Georgia and a patron of the arts.”
“He's a slave owner too?” Melissa asked. “Stone, please, tear this bastard's head off.”
“No slaves,” Eaton said, choking. “I owned a rifle manufacturing plant and had paid employees. You can understand why we didn't want anyone near those who weren't of the right sort.”
I walked over and slammed the back of my fist in his face, breaking his nose. It didn't heal, which meant he was low on blood.
Eaton took a deep breath. “I survived the Civil War and the Great Stock Market Crash but kept coming back to Ashura with my hat in my hand. When the Bailout happened, I couldn't donate shit to the fund because everything I had was in that bastard Madoff's fund.”
For some reason, I found that outrageously funny. “Weren't vampires beneficiaries of that fund?”
“Shut up!” Eaton hissed.
“So, you betrayed Thoth for cash.”
“I owed him up to my … ass … bastard. He let me win a lot of money at the casino after your exile and then I got cocky before he wiped out what few assets I had left. I needed to rebuild what I'd had before … if I was … to live the life to which I was accustomed.”
I stared at him. “Yeah, well, you realize Renaud is going to attack the oldest vampires in the city, right? He's going to use the Network to help him slaughter some kind of meeting.”
“Shit,” Eaton said, actually looking concerned. “You've got to release me and get me to the City Council.”
“One of those is happening,” I said. “The other? Not so much.”
Eaton was so furious his fangs jutted out, and he had to stop in order to retract them. Just as many actors had found out, it was hard to talk with fangs. You sounded like Sylvester the Cat and that totally destroyed any credibility you had as an undead fiend.
“I didn't know
about the second attack,” Eaton said, staring at them. “The Network is involved with Renaud too?”
“Nothing gets by you, chief, does it?” I said. “Or everything does. You sold the Network information on the meeting.”
“I didn't know Renaud was involved!” Eaton hissed, sheer panic removing any of the hesitation his being staked would have normally caused. “I only found out about it when you mentioned it. He's involved with the Network. If he's actually behind all this, the Network’s planned attack on the meeting won't just be a slaughter. He has the power to potentially kill them all!”
“OK, what meeting, first,” I said.
“Walpurgis Night,” Eaton said, as if it should mean anything to me. “It's tomorrow evening, when the Ancients send their representatives to the major cities of the New World in order to collect tithes and talk about upcoming business.”
“Ah, tax day,” I said, nodding. “Makes sense to be in April.”
“Shut up and listen,” Eaton said, his voice almost a whisper. “This is going to be a special meeting because almost all of the New World representatives are going to be in New Detroit. They're here to discuss how to keep the bankruptcy of the Vampire Nation a secret.”
“Wait, what?”
Eaton rolled his eyes. “Did you really think vampires had enough money to keep the United States going? It's all smoke, hypnosis, and bank fraud. As long as they keep it going, though, they can milk the teat until they're rich again.”
I stared at him. “God damn, my respect for the Vampire Nation just went up.”
“It did?” Melissa said, appalled.
“Don't hate the player, hate the game.”
Melissa shook her head. “I hated when guys told me that in college. I don't think it's any more appropriate now, especially when it risks the whole of the United States economy.”
“Yeah, because that was in such good shape before,” I said.
“Because the vampires wrecked it in the first place,” Melissa replied.