Bill of the Dead (Book 2): Everyday Horrors

by Gualtieri, Rick

  Interestingly enough, Hollywood hadn’t gotten it entirely wrong. The spectacle playing out before me looked painful and sounded disgusting as fuck, as a chorus of crackling bones and rippling flesh filled the air.

  Sadly, the end result wasn’t Tinsel Town’s more recent concept of werewolves, in which shirtless hunks turned into oversized dogs. I could’ve dealt with that a bit better than the bipedal monstrosities taking shape all around us.

  Take Hobart for instance. He’d already started off large, a good six foot two if not taller. But I watched as his body-expanded, Incredible Hulk style, to at least seven feet. He still had a beer gut – this wasn’t some instant CrossFit workout – but his arms, legs, and shoulders had enlarged to even things out. As for his face, it was getting uglier by the second. Matted black fur now covered it, not doing nearly enough to hide the exaggerated muzzle forming at the front of his face or the mouthful of rottweiler teeth contained within. And then there was the...

  Fucking nasty! Was he actually taking a shit mid-transformation?

  Oh wait, no. He was just growing a tail, and what a ratty tail it was, more like something that belonged on an oversized possum.

  So engrossed was I, that for a moment I forgot he wasn’t the only one there. All around me, people were completing their transformations into monsters – still naked by the way, as, unlike the movies, the fur covering their crotches wasn’t nearly heavy enough to obscure their junk. Ugh! I wasn’t sure what was worse, the teeth or the red rockets a few of them were proudly exhibiting.

  The females weren’t much better off, some of them now sporting four sets of floppy tits down their torsos. Eww. I could understand why movie makers had made the changes they had.

  Sadly, none of this served to downgrade the threat these things represented. Some of them dropped to all fours, their forelimbs now long enough to support it, while others remained bipedal. All of them, however, started to growl and not in a friendly “wanna play catch” way.

  “Okay, done processing,” I cried. “Take Pop and get inside, now!”

  “Like hell. This is my house, and I’ll... What the hell are you doing?”

  “Sorry, sir, but the Freewill knows what he’s talking about. Hey, watch the fingers.”

  I didn’t bother to turn to see what was going on between them, trusting Glen to figure out some way to ooze them inside. I had bigger problems to deal with, from creatures that somehow managed to make even worse dogs than my new roommate.

  It was only then that I remembered I was armed. Thank goodness! Never before had I been so glad for the Second Amendment.

  Lifting the shotgun, I called out, “I don’t want any trouble, but I’m more than happy to give you fuckers the Old Yeller treatment.”

  If my threat intimidated them, they didn’t show it – all of them now snarling and foaming at the mouth as if they were nothing more than rabid animals.

  “I’m warning you,” I said, taking aim at the nearest.

  “You think that’s gonna save you?” Myra called out to me from behind her purple force dome. “You don’t know nothing, you dumb fuck!”

  I can’t say I held particularly high opinions of most Magi I’d met, and she wasn’t doing much to change that. Just what the world needed, a trailer trash Morgana.

  She was the least of my concerns right then, though, which probably said exactly how fucked in the ass I currently was.

  And then the impasse was over as my ears picked up the sound of feet pounding upon the soft Earth.

  Not today, Fido.

  I spun, noting one of the werewolves closing the distance between us with disturbing speed. Too bad he wasn’t quite as fast as my trigger finger.

  BOOM!!

  The weapon was loaded with buckshot, meaning all I needed to do was aim in the beast’s general direction, which suited me just fine. It had been five years since my last shooting lesson, and I’d pretty much forgotten it all by now. As far as gunfighters went, I was less Wyatt Earp and more Wyatt Twerp.

  But that was okay. The werewolf was large, a moving wall of flesh and fur, and my ears had told me right where it would be. Even Tom would’ve been hard pressed to miss ... maybe.

  A sizable chunk of the wolf’s muzzle disappeared in a spray of blood and gristle. It let out a choked yelp as it fell to the ground grabbing at its ruined face.

  “Bad dog,” I said with a triumphant smirk. “Now who’s next ... OOF!”

  Apparently I was, as one of the creatures slammed into my side, hard enough to make me wonder who’d brought a truck to a monster fight. I skidded to a halt on the grass, a massive mutt atop me, and just barely managed to bring the gun up between us before it could chomp down onto my face.

  Instead, its jaws clamped shut onto a mouthful of American made steel, strong enough to ... to actually do jack shit. The housing of the shotgun immediately began to deform as the creature bore down on it, treating it as if it were nothing more than a dollar store chew toy.

  Well, isn’t that just fucking wonderful.

  Snarls and growls filled the air from every direction, telling me I was perhaps seconds away from being literally dogpiled. That might’ve been a cute place to be if this was a litter of golden retrievers, much less so with Cujo’s uglier cousins.

  Fortunately, I wasn’t exactly helpless. That, and I’d seen all of the Underworld movies. Not sure how useful that was, as I wasn’t wearing skintight leather, but you used what you had – and what I had was a whole arsenal of vampire powers.

  Extending my claws, I let go of the now useless weapon and raked a furrow across the beast’s arm and chest, feeling its hot blood spill out and ruin my favorite Metal Gear Solid shirt. The wolf monster didn’t like that, not one bit. It pulled back and yipped in pain, giving me enough leverage to shove it off and roll back to my feet.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the werewolf I’d blasted also getting back up, its ruined face apparently not enough to keep it down for the count. Well, wasn’t that just fucking grand. I swear, once, just once, I’d like to fight a monster that had a below average constitution score.

  However, that was a gripe for later. I quickly dove to the left to avoid another of the charging beasts, then leapt over a third before it could make me its bitch.

  Dodging and weaving was keeping me alive, but it wasn’t doing shit to win this fight. With their superior numbers, it was only a matter of time before I zigged when I should’ve zagged. The only thing in my favor at the moment seemed to be that these assholes were fighting as individuals as opposed to trying to pen me in. There was also the issue of...

  Hold on a second.

  While the immediate area contained enough of these things to ruin my evening, there seemed to be far fewer dogging me than I was expecting. What, had some of them run off to chase rabbits?

  The sound of snarls from closer to the tree line caught my ear, and I allowed myself a moment to check it out. Myra was surrounded by no less than three of the monsters. They were circling her, growling. Then, one of them leapt at her flank, bouncing harmlessly off her magical shield, only to push itself back to its feet and try again.

  The fuck? Had her less than eloquent oration skills offended the wolves’ sensitive ears, or did they maybe know an asshole when they smelled one?

  All at once, the force dome made sense. She hadn’t raised it because of me. It had been to protect her from these things. If anything, she seemed to be as much in control of these beasts as I was, which was to say not at all. Sadly, unlike her, I didn’t have a handy dandy forcefield to save my ass, having to rely on being a moving target.

  Although not for long apparently. A couple of the wolves had managed to close in while I was busy gawking at Princess Everclear. Fucking A! I really needed to stop worrying about everyone else in situations like these, especially the asshole who’d sicced the fucking monsters on me to begin with.

  The only advantage going for me was that, unlike the Feet, these things weren’t exactly the stealthiest
fuckers on the planet. As I kept an eye on the one in front of me, a growl from behind telegraphed that an attack was incoming.

  I turned, just in time to sidestep and plant a fist in the side of the backbiter’s face. Hopefully no one from PETA was around to see this because teeth cracked as its head whipped to the side,

  Sadly, so did something in my hand.

  Ow!

  It was like punching a rock, which really shouldn’t have been surprising. Growing up, one of my cousins had owned a Newfoundland. Thing was the size of a small bear and built like a tank. However, it was little more than a puppy compared to these things. Though they weren’t quite Sasquatch sized, I’d have easily placed most of them around the four hundred pound mark or more, making them easily big enough to fuck up my day.

  The one I’d decked hit the ground stunned, just as another growl from my flank caught my ear, causing me to dive out of the way as something massive and hairy just barely missed me.

  Fuck! This must’ve been how caribou felt being surrounded by a wolf pack. Yeah, well, the hell with that. It was time to teach these guys that I wasn’t just some deer in their headlights. This was one bag of dogfood that bit back.

  Or something like that.

  Recovering as quickly as my vampire reflexes would allow, which was pretty darned fast, I spun and leapt at the one that had just tried to attack me, catching it before it could fully turn around.

  I landed on its back then, before I could realize how potentially stupid my plan was, I grabbed hold of its head with both hands and twisted with everything I had.

  Come on. Don’t have a fucking adamantium skeleton.

  CRACK!

  The werewolf yipped in pain as I shattered its vertebrae, then crumbled to the ground. I had no way of knowing if this thing was down for good, but at the very least it seemed to be out of the fight. That was good enough for me.

  Sadly, it seemed to be enough for them, too, as silence suddenly descended upon the yard. I stood and found at least half a dozen sets of red eyes all glaring at me. Even the ones who’d been circling Myra, the wicked witch of white trash, were now focused my way.

  “You gone and done it now,” she said, safe behind her force bubble.

  “Eat a bag of first cousin dicks, as if you haven’t already.”

  Despite my witty retort, it looked like I was the one who was about to be thoroughly boned, as the werewolves began to spread out, encircling me.

  So, of course, I did the sensible thing and made it worse for myself. “Aw, what’s the matter? Did I send one of the puppies to the pound?”

  However, if this served to piss them off even more, they didn’t show it. Hell, I wasn’t even certain they could understand me. Seemed to be a bit of a communication gap between vamp and dog.

  One thing soon became crystal clear, though. As the pack continued to surround me, one of them stepped forward. Though it wasn’t exactly wearing a nametag, the big old beer belly protruding from its gut told me who it likely was.

  Hobart rose to his full height, towering over me as he slowly approached. As for the rest, they seemed to be doing little more than watching and perhaps making sure I didn’t turn tail and run.

  I wasn’t sure if wolves did this in the wild, having made it a point to miss most National Geographic specials these days, but in human terms it seemed fairly obvious what was happening.

  Hobart was the big dog in this pack of rawhide rangers. I’d hurt one of them badly. Now it was up to him to teach me that I wasn’t worthy of pissing in the tall grass with him and his bros.

  Too bad for this fucker I’d done this dance before, with monsters bigger and badder than him.

  True, I’d either lost most of those fights or had to rely on Dr. Death, but that was then. This was now. I was older, more mature, more confident in my ... whoa!

  Apparently, I hadn’t learned a goddamned thing when it came to not getting caught up in my own internal dialogue. Hobart stepped in, his stride allowing him to easily cover the distance between us, and took a swipe at me – the fingernails of his hands having lengthened and thickened into, well, dog nails, except much sharper looking.

  I barely jumped back in time to keep my guts inside my body. Two could play at this game, though. I raced in behind his swing and slashed at him with my own claws, drawing four rivulets of blood down his arm.

  Unfortunately, the minor damage I’d caused was for naught as it put me in prime position for him to simply reverse his swing – catching me with a backhand that knocked me on my ass a good ten feet away.

  Ugh. These things definitely weren’t lightweights in the strength department. Neither were they when it came to speed. I’d no sooner landed when my view above became obscured by a wall of black fur.

  I barely rolled out of the way in time to avoid being squashed like a bug, but at least that allowed me to get to my feet before Hobart could right himself again. Using my vampire speed to my advantage, I stepped in, looking to knock a few of this thing’s teeth out. If I could put Hobart down, maybe the others would ... um, tear me to pieces more respectfully.

  Oh well, I’d cross that bridge when I...

  Or not.

  Hobart-wolf spun, far faster than I expected, and caught my fist – closing his hand over mine like a vise grip.

  Uh oh.

  Guess he finally remembered that whole opposable thumb thing.

  The bones in my left hand screamed in protest as he put on the pressure, but then a whole other type of pressure exploded in my right eye as he slammed a fist into the side of my head, dislodging my glasses so they dropped to the ground at my feet – albeit that was probably the least of my worries.

  The world greyed out around me and my knees buckled, but Hobart wouldn’t let me fall. Holding me aloft, as his hand began to turn mine into pulp, he punched me in the face again, causing me to spit out teeth and a generous mouthful of blood.

  “Kick his ass real good, Hobart!”

  I’d never been one to advocate violence against women, but right then I wanted nothing more than to deck that fucking witch.

  However, first I had to get past this asshole – easier said than done as blood was now freely dribbling out both sides of my mouth, as well as the shattered remains of my hand.

  He hit me again, swelling my right eye shut and making me feel all woozy.

  A few more of these and I’d be done for. With no other vamps around to bite and Sally vanished to god-knows-where, I was on my own with not a lot to fall back on, except...

  “C-come on, Dr. Def,” I slurred, my swollen tongue making speech difficult.

  By now, I couldn’t even feel my left hand, save for a dull ache, letting me know it was nothing more than a sack of rent meat and broken bones.

  “ARGH!”

  Hobart struck again, this time with his claws, digging four deep furrows across my chest – tearing my shirt to shreds, along with most of the rest of me.

  “Any ... y-year ... now,” I sputtered, rapidly losing cohesion.

  He’s most vulnerable where he’s at his most dangerous.

  That voice in my subconscious, the one who’d somehow known what proto-leprechauns were, spoke up again – not that its advice made much sense.

  Last time I was in a situation like this, I’d gotten lucky with a cheap shot to the nuts. However, Hobart in his werewolf form was considerably larger than Night Razor had been, not to mention he was holding me in a position that made a solid dick punch difficult to pull off.

  And now the voice in my head was telling me it was too dangerous anyway. What? Did he have a toxic taint or something?

  Another blow to the side of my head knocked loose that bit of internal dialogue, along with another molar, scattering my thoughts to the wind.

  Sensing victory, mostly because I was losing badly, Hobart threw back his head and actually began to chuckle. It was a throaty unpleasant noise, made worse by the drippy ass tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

  Wait ... his tongue.


  Most vulnerable where he’s most dangerous. Well, what was more dangerous than a monster wolf’s teeth?

  Dr. Death hadn’t been talking about Hobart’s dick after all. What a novel concept.

  Of course, that still left open the how part of this equation. Sadly, Hobart didn’t leave his tongue hanging out long enough for me to grab hold of it. He finished his little inside joke, then lowered his head to face me again, opening his jaws wide as if preparing to...

  Fuck it. I’d done worse.

  Before he could chomp down on my favorite face, I lashed out with my free hand, reaching inside his mouth and burying my claws into the flat of his tongue.

  Disgusting as it was, the look on his face – his red eyes opening wide as saucers – more than made up for it.

  Sadly, less encouraging was when he clamped his teeth shut.

  JESUS MOTHERFUCKING CHRIST!

  A moment later, I fell to the ground. My left hand looked like a crumpled paper bag while my right was missing three fingers, but I was free. As for Hobart, he backed up pawing at his mouth, opening it just enough for me to make out my severed digits inside, the claws still embedded in his tongue.

  “How’d you like the taste of that, asshole?” I spat.

  Too bad it was a momentary reprieve at best. The upside of killing vampires was that you didn’t have to worry about disposing the bodies. Same with dismemberment. Outside of some poisons that could retard the process, cutting off a piece of a vamp resulted in that piece quickly turning to ash. Any second now, the three spikes stuck in Hobart’s tongue were going to dissolve like the world’s worst tasting cotton candy, leaving him free to fuck me up some more and angry enough to give him reason to.

  I barely had enough working digits left to dial a phone, much less put up a fight. My healing was good, but not good enough to make a difference in the next couple of seconds. I needed to...

  Shots rang out from behind me, coming from inside the house. They were followed by a woman’s scream, causing all the wolves around me to turn in that direction. Shit! I’d noticed earlier that there didn’t seem to be as many werewolves out here as I’d expected. Had some of them gotten inside?