by Mac Flynn
The tone in his voice made me shudder. "You mean like having to drink blood?" I guessed.
"There are worse consequences than the thirst." He turned away and walked further down the path. I stared at his back with a contemplative look on my face and wondered what he wasn't telling me that was so horrible. Then I realized he was leaving me behind.
"Hey, wait up!" I yelped. I hurried after him and in a few minutes we arrived at the rear of the lot. We stepped out into a clear area surrounded by the mounds of trash, and in the center was a large object covered by a tarp.
Vincent stepped up to the tarp and threw off the cover to reveal a 1930s-era black-colored vehicle, the kind you'd see in old mobster movies. It had a smooth, slick top with bulging front headlights and a large trunk in the back. Inside were long front and back seats with dark gray leather. The whole car was shiny and clean except for the mud caked wheels, and stood out from the trash like a healthy thumb.
"Wow," I whispered. I walked up and ran my hand along the smooth rims and doors. "Tim didn't say he had a car."
"The proceeds from our previous cases allowed him to buy the parts, and he pieced the car together from those," Vincent explained to me. He frowned and knelt down beside one of the wheels to inspect the dirt.
I blinked. "Tim was a mechanic?"
"Yes."
I crossed my arms over my chest and huffed. "And he said he couldn't fix my car," I grumbled. Vincent ignored me as he pinched some of the dried mud between his fingers. "Something interesting about the mud?" I asked him.
"Tim always cleaned the car after our assignments," he told me.
I remembered the filthy apartment and snorted. "At least he kept something clean."
Vincent stood and glanced over the car with a pensive expression on his face. "Something stopped him from cleaning the car."
I cringed. "You mean like him dying?" I suggested.
He gave a nod. "Yes, I believe he used the car the day he was killed."
The color drained from my face and suddenly the car didn't look so inviting. "So that means what?"
"I don't know," he admitted. He opened the driver door. He pulled a key from his coat and stuck it into the ignition. In a moment the car growled to life and the headlights turned on to illuminate a road through the trash.
My eye twitched as I looked over the clear, even road, and I glanced over to Vincent. "Why didn't we take that?"
"The path is shorter."
I threw up my arms and glared at him. "Not for me!" I yelled.
Vincent ignored me, and slid into the driver's seat. He slammed the door and leaned an arm over the open window. "Get in." I frowned and hesitated to obey. He frowned. "What is it now?"
"You're kind of old, aren't you? Do you even know how to drive?" I asked him.
"Would you like it if I left you here?" he threatened.
I scowled and scurried around the car to slide into the front passenger seat. The color drained from my face when I realized there weren't any seat belts. "You'd better go slow or-ah!" Vincent slammed his foot on the peddle and we shot forward down the bumpy road. I grabbed onto the dash and screamed as we veered left and right around and between the large mounds of trash. The road led down an alley between the front and rear warehouses, and in a few seconds we flew out onto the street. Vincent took a sharp right turn, and I slid along the leather seat and slammed into his side.
"Could you slow down?" I yelled at him.
"Yes," was his calm, cool reply. He didn't slow down as we careened down the street.
I pushed off him and watched the buildings speed by as gray, rundown blurs. "What kind of engine is in this thing?" I yelped.
"A racing car engine," he replied.
My mouth dropped to the clean floor and I picked it up in time to scream as we drove around a sharp corner at the speed of light. "Are you trying to get us both killed?" I screamed.
"No."
"Then slow down!"
"No."
"I hate you!"
Chapter 3
Our car careened down the ruined streets for a few blurred blocks before we hit the more civilized part of the city. Only then did Vincent slow down to the speed limit, and I slumped down in my seat as the world came back into focus. "Why him?" I mumbled.
Vincent's head turned slightly to me and he raised a brow. "Why who?"
"You, you psychotic idiot." I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. "Here you are saying you'll do anything to preserve your existence, and then you go and try to kill us with this death car."
"My reflexes are superior to that of a human, so I am able to speed," he pointed out.
"But the car's reflexes aren't any better than any normal one," I argued.
A shadow of a smile flickered on his lips. "Tim built the car specifically for my unique driving abilities."
"At the rate you drive I'm going to meet him sooner than I expected and give him a good slap for leaving me with you," I muttered. I yelped when we violently pulled over and the passenger side wheels jumped onto the sidewalk. I whipped my head over to Vincent and my eye twitched. "Great reflexes, hung? Did the sidewalk have it coming?"
He shrugged. "The sidewalk is an unnecessary nuisance."
"Uh-huh, try telling that to the pedestrians." I glanced out my window and saw we were parked outside one of the glitzier clothing stores. I turned to Vincent and jerked my thumb at the store. "Why this place?"
Vincent sighed and shook his head. "Did you at all notice the way the woman dressed?" he scolded me.
I frowned and hunched my shoulders. "Yeah, really fancy, so what?" I huffed.
"Her son no doubt demands the same level of attire from his comrades, and this cult is one of the wealthiest in the city," he replied.
I straightened and blinked. "So you know who we're up against?" I asked him.
He gave a nod. "Tim and I had dealings with them on previous occasions which is why you will be the front man for this operation."
The color drained from my face. "I'm going to be the what?"
"The front man, the infiltrator into the cult," he explained to me. "The leader is familiar with me and that makes me a useless operative."
"B-but I don't know how to do any of this!" I exclaimed. I gestured down to myself. "See? I'm just a normal shop girl!"
Vincent turned to me and I saw a glimpse of his eyes through those dark glasses. It was getting easier to see behind those things. "You accepted the business over Tim's body. Will you rescind your agreement?" he asked me.
I glared at him. "It's not fair bringing Tim into this."
"It is fair if he is relevant to your word," he argued.
I frowned and slumped in my seat. "I didn't know I'd be the bait on my first trip out," I grumbled.
"You are not the bait, you are the infiltrator," he corrected me.
"And if something goes wrong I'll be the dead infiltrator," I shot back.
"I will ensure that doesn't happen," he replied.
"That makes me feel so much better," I quipped. Vincent didn't deign to reply, and I sighed. "All right, I'll give this detective stuff a good shot and hope somebody else doesn't give me one. Where do we start?" I asked him.
"By purchasing the proper attire. The clients of the cult are well-to-do and expect their infiltrators to look the same."
"Just so long as they don't expect an infiltrator," I replied.
"We shall see." He stepped out of the car and I hurried out after him.
"I can hardly wait," I muttered. I followed him into the boutique and felt awkward around such fine clothing while I wore my dirty clothes. There was a number of patrons being helped by the staff who were better dressed than I'd ever been able to afford. I wasn't exactly high on fashion and felt like a fish-out-of-water, so I stuck close to Vincent. So close that when he made a sudden stop I made a sudden stop into his back. He glared at me over his shoulder, and I sheepishly grinned and shrugged. "Sorry," I whispered.
One of the female employees wit
h a haircut so stiffened by spray that it resembled a statue noticed us and walked over. "Good evening. How can I help you?"
Vincent gestured to me. "We would like to fit this young woman in the most fashionable outfit you have available," he politely replied. I snapped my head up at him and my mouth dropped open. He could actually sound and act like a human being and not just an undead ass.
The employee looked me over, and I saw the disapproval and horror in her eyes. "I'm afraid this may be very expensive," she warned us.
"That won't be a problem. Spare no expense," he instructed. Vincent leaned forward and his glasses slid down to reveal his dark eyes. The woman was too busy blushing to notice the pointed fangs. "And perhaps you would like to buy something for your kind assistance to us."
The woman was mesmerized by his eyes and I saw a strange glint of light flash through her own eyes. Then she shook herself and smiled at us. "I'd be very glad to help all I can."
Vincent grinned and straightened so the glasses covered his eyes again. "Excellent. Let's get started."
I was glad to get out of my dirty rags, but not so glad to be fitted like a doll. Shoes, shirts, pants, coats, socks, and even underwear were handed over to me and I went in and out of the dressing room so many times the hinges began to squeak with complaint. Fortunately, the employee was thorough and had a good eye, and what she gave me usually fit. "How does this suit you?" she asked me as I stood on a short pedestal in front of a half dozen mirrors. Vincent stood off to the side just out of view of the mirrors. I had a feeling he wouldn't have been seen in them if he stood directly in front.
The clothes she was asking me about was a strange hipster style. I wore a tight woolen turtleneck (I hate turtlenecks) with dark dress pants (I hate those, too) and a pair of flat shoes that didn't have any cushioning (you can guess how I felt about those). I shifted and winced when the shoes bit me at the heel. "It's painful being in fashion," I replied.
"Did you want to try another size?" she wondered.
"No!" I yelped.
"Those will work fine," Vincent assured her. I would have treated him as my hero if I hadn't remembered he was the one who got me into this clothing mess. That, and he was an undead ass.
The employees packaged up our purchases and rang up our bill. I'd never seen so many numbers in front of the decimal point, at least not for clothes shopping, and Vincent handled the bill with the wad of cash. The woman was surprised by the payment option, but handed back our change without a word and we walked outside. The city nightlife was alive and well as people strolled by in fancy dress wear and casual outfits, all out for a night on the town.
Vincent set our packages in the passenger-side of the car, but shut the door before I could slip inside. I glared at him. "What's your deal? You almost took off my arm shutting that door," I complained.
His answer was to take a firm but gentle hold of my arm and lead me to a nearby alley. He pulled me down the scummy walkway until we were halfway down the narrow, darkened path and the friendly lights and sounds from the street were a pale echo of themselves. Vincent released me and glanced at a door on the left side of the alley with the name of the clothes boutique over the entrance. I crossed my arms over my chest and glared at him. "Mind telling me what we're doing here?" I asked him.
"Quiet," was his reply.
I rolled my eyes, but decided to give in to my curiosity, and so I sat down on a nearby crate. We didn't have too long to wait before the door opened and our helpful employee stood in the doorway. She stared straight ahead and her eyes didn't blink. The woman mechanically stepped out and shut the door behind her. I stood as Vincent stepped over to her and guided her so she stood between us.
I moved closer and waved my hand in front of her blank face. Nothing. She didn't even wince when I snapped my fingers in front of her nose. I glanced at Vincent. "What's wrong with her?"
"I hypnotized her," he told me.
My face twisted into a look of horror and disgust. "What the hell do you think you're doing? We can't do this, so un-hypnotize her!" I demanded.
He stepped up and brushed back her long hair from her neck. "We need her to sustain our existence."
My mouth slowly dropped open as I realized what he meant for us to do. "You want us to snack on her?" I yelled.
Vincent whipped over to me and slapped his cold hand over my mouth. His glasses slipped down and they had a dangerous, hungry glint in them. "Would you rather I feed on you?"
I glared and stuck my face in his. "You really want to die?" I snapped back.
"That's the sentence you've given both of us if we don't feed," he told me.
"I'm not hungry," I countered. A twisted grin slowly spread across his lips. Vincent dropped his hand from my mouth and stepped back to stand beside our frozen companion. He placed one hand on her back and reached up with his other to cut a small, thin cut into her neck. A trail of blood slid out of the cut and down her collar bone. My eyes widened and my tongue flicked out to wet my lips. I realized what I'd done, gasped and stumbled back shaking my head. "I-I don't want any," I refused.
Vincent frowned. "Lying to yourself will cause worse consequences," he warned me.
I scowled and bit my lip. I didn't realize how hard I bit my lip until I felt blood stream down my chin. "Damn it," I muttered as I wiped the blood off my face. My sleeve nicked my teeth and I felt they were much longer than normal. There arose a gnawing hunger inside of me that begged me to attack the girl and take the blood from her warm body.
"We don't have all night for your moral hesitations," Vincent scolded. He gently pushed the girl toward me, and she stepped forward until she stood before me.
I stubbornly shook my head and turned her around to face Vincent. Her empty eyes creeped me out. "I won't kill her," I insisted.
"Don't be an idiot. Killing the girl would bring too much attention. You need only take a small amount of blood," Vincent replied.
"I still won't do it." I gently pushed her away toward the door.
Vincent stepped into her path and grasped the woman's upper arms. Her back faced me and he glanced over her shoulder to glare at me. I cringed when his fangs lengthened over his lips and his mouth twisted into a feral snarl. Vincent swooped down and bit deeply into her neck. It was mesmerizing to watch him suckle at her flesh and drain her of her life blood. I felt a pull inside me and a voice told me to step forward and take my share, but I fought the sensation. Instead I backed up against the far wall of the alley and watched the attack.
Vincent drained her for only a minute, and then released his sharp teeth from her neck. He stepped aside and guided her over to the door. She stumbled a little, but he held her up and even opened the door for her. The employee stepped inside, and he shut the door behind her. Then Vincent turned to me and we glared at each other. "You have only yourself to blame for this," he warned me.
"I'm not regretting-" I didn't get to finish because he suddenly towered over me. He swooped down and bit down hard into my neck. I gasped and clutched at his back as he drained me of my life. The feeling was as the first time, both painful and sensual. My soul screamed at him to stop while my body reveled in the pleasure.
That's when a pure white light arose from my ring and enveloped us both in its brilliance. Vincent cried out and released me from his bite. He stumbled back and fell to his knees while I slid down the wall to the ground, weak from the loss of blood. His own ring was lit with a bright light that connected with mine. Together they created a swirling mix of colors between us. I felt his life energy travel over the connection and into my body, reviving me and diminishing my hunger. The connection only lasted a minute and the lights faded back into our respective rings. The darkness of the alley swallowed us and there was only the sounds of our harsh breathing.
It was done, and we were in trouble.
Chapter 4
I groaned, clutched my head, and slowly rose to my feet. The exhaustion quickly left me and was replaced by that familiar feeling of rejuvenatio
n I felt the last time this happened. "You-you could have warned me," I choked out. Vincent raised his head and glared at me over his glasses. I stumbled over to him and knelt in front of him. I don't know why I cared, but he looked ghastly. His pale face was even worse than usual, and his body shook and shuddered. "I didn't take too much, did I?"
"Quite a bit," he weakly growled.
I offered my hand to him. "Come on. Let's get you back home." He brushed aside my hand and raised himself to his feet. His feet may have agreed to the standing, but his legs objected to his weight and he swayed. He would have fallen if I hadn't caught him and steadied him with my side. I rolled my eyes and wrapped one of his arms over my shoulders. "Lean on me or we'll be here all night," I commanded him.
He grudgingly allowed me to help him down the alley and out into the street. We got a few glances from some of the people, but most didn't want to get involved. I hurried us across the sidewalk and to our car, where I stuffed Vincent into the passenger seat. He tried to slide over to the driver's seat, but being as weak as a kitten I grabbed him and pulled him back. "Oh no you don't, I'm not getting killed in a car crash because your foot decided to stop obeying you," I told him.
"You can't drive this car," he insisted.
I slammed his door, stuck my arms through the open window and yanked him against the door. "Stay." I dashed around the car and slid into the driver's seat before he could take it. "Now just hold on. I haven't driven a stick in a few years." I turned on the car and ground the gears. Vincent winced and grasped the dashboard as I put my foot on the peddle and we shot forward.
That's when I realized that maybe I really couldn't drive a car with that much power, at least not without the roads being cleared of cars, pedestrians, fire hydrants, and sidewalks. I screamed as we careened down the busy street. I frantically turned the wheel left and right to avoid the traffic in front of us. Cars honked and people screamed. I heard very obscenity in the book and even ones I never knew existed. We received the one-finger salute more times than an unwelcome politician. We came up to a light that decided it didn't want to be green anymore, so my foot slammed on the brake and the car came to a grinding, screeching halt. The boxes of clothes spilled forward onto the front seat and covered us with the fancy fabric. I glanced over to Vincent and covered my mouth to stifle my snort when I saw that one of the bras had fallen onto his head