Bill of the Dead (Book 2): Everyday Horrors

by Gualtieri, Rick

  Next to me, Falcon shot a blast of fire into the remains of a couch, blowing it to bits and sending flaming debris into the horde of mini barbarians at our gates.

  “I don’t suppose you could maybe call your buddies down at the station?” I asked, picking up another of the hungry little shitheads by the scruff of its neck and giving it a good old-fashioned dwarf toss.

  Sadly, all we were doing was scattering these guys. Their ability to resist both magic and injury meant they were back up and running toward us within seconds.

  They’re not here for us. They’re here for him.

  As was usual, lately anyway, Dr. Death was disturbingly apt. These things were mostly making a beeline for Falcon in their single-minded assault. I just sort of happened to be in the way. Truth of the matter was, I had a feeling that if I decided to, I dunno, take a piss break, they’d be happy to let me go.

  But that wasn’t my style.

  I was no hero, don’t get me wrong. I didn’t have some Spider-Man complex about power and responsibility. And the only Uncle Ben I was aware of came from the rice aisle. I didn’t sit around listening to the police scanner, hoping to hear about wrongs needing to be righted. If anything, I was happy to not have any part of that crap.

  Yet, despite wanting to believe that, I found myself in situations like this time and time again.

  Part of it was guilt. After all, I and my friends had played right into Gan’s creepy little hands less than a month ago. As a result, magic was back and worse than ever. Sheila was gone, replaced by an Icon who, while my best friend, was about as well equipped for the job as a blind driving instructor. And Ed was still among the missing, albeit maybe that wasn’t entirely bad as there was apparently a pack of psycho werewolves searching for his ass.

  Yeah, guilt definitely played a part in it. The rest, call it a gamer’s sense of balance. Though most of the campaigns I’d played with Dave had quickly gone off the rails, usually devolving into orgies in which my party ended up as the honorary dildos, they’d all mostly started with the same basic idea: evil was growing in the world and an opposing force was needed to keep it in check.

  I think somewhere in my fucked-up mind I’d decided that me and my friends were the real life equivalent of that balance.

  That said, I wouldn’t have minded if some other gaming party took a turn from time to time.

  “Sorry, no can do,” Falcon replied, dragging me back to the here and now. He lobbed another indirect spell, ultimately doing little more than surrounding us with burning debris. “Sadly, this is beyond the ken of New York’s finest. This is the reason they called me in, after all. Albeit, I didn’t expect the a'chiad dé danann to hold such a grudge.”

  “This isn’t their doing, even if they’re still creepy little assholes. There’s a ringleader calling the shots.” I picked up a stool and smashed it over a leprechaun’s head, knocking it to the floor. “Whoever it is, they’re powerful. Oh, and before you ask, it isn’t Char.”

  “Char?”

  “That vamp vigilante I was telling you about.”

  “No offense, mate, but I kind of assumed that. The a'chiad seem to barely tolerate each other from what I’ve observed. I somehow don’t see them rallying behind any banner but their own. Not to mention, they don’t particularly care for water, so I sincerely doubt they’d go out of their way to become best mates with a bunch of bloody fish men.”

  Okay, maybe I was stating the obvious for anyone who wasn’t a newb. Still, I wasn’t sure whether it made me feel better or worse to know he’d concluded that there was something larger behind the scenes here.

  Something larger like ... a Great Beast? “What?!”

  “That’s the question of the hour isn’t it?” Falcon replied, no doubt thinking I was talking to him. “What exactly is controlling them?”

  The unexpected suggestion from inside my own head caused me to pause in my defense. “Um ... yeah.”

  Talk about poor timing, as one of the little monsters picked that moment to launch itself at me, sinking its blocky teeth into my fucking crotch!

  FUUUUUUUCK!

  In the space of an instant, the crushing pain of a thousand cleated soccer players slammed into my balls.

  All thoughts of any beast, minus the one between my legs, fled as I began to flail away at the leprechaun – punching, eye-gouging, doing whatever the hell I could to dislodge it.

  All while screaming like a little bitch, of course, because there was no way I was taking this one like a man. Hell, I wasn’t even sure that was possible.

  I spun around, trying to pry this thing off me before it made a meal of my junk, but it was stuck tight like a taint-hungry tick.

  And then it let go.

  Sweet merciful God, it let go!

  Oh, my poor aching dick. Even with vampire healing it was going to...

  Hold on. Why did it let go?

  I shouldn’t have cared so long as it did but, blinking away the copious tears from my eyes, I instantly saw why. I’d been standing between this thing and Falcon. But in turning, I’d put him at this thing’s flank, meaning the way to him was now free and clear.

  Fuck it all. I didn’t care who was calling the shots here or how evil they were. For that one small instant, I was simply grateful that they’d instilled into these creatures a single-minded purpose, one that didn’t involve eating my dick for breakfast.

  At the same time, I wasn’t asshole enough to go and wrap my balls in gauze while these things chewed off parts of Falcon that didn’t grow back.

  I dropped to the floor, on legs that seemed no longer capable of doing anything more than curling up in a fetal position. However, I managed to reach out and snag the leprechaun by one of its stubby legs, tripping it face first onto the floor.

  Not exactly a finishing move, but it was all I had in me at the moment.

  Fortunately, rather than simply chomp off my fingers and be done with it, the creature continued trying to crawl toward Falcon’s position.

  “Are you all right?” he called to me from a few yards away, busy fending off four more of the leprechauns by himself and rapidly losing ground.

  The only upside was there didn’t appear to be more incoming at the moment. The tide from outside had begun to slake. No idea if it was my friends or something else, but I wasn’t about to complain.

  “J-just waiting for my dick to grow back.”

  “Take your time, Freewill. Nothing particularly interesting happening here.”

  Much as I didn’t appreciate snark at the expense of my family jewels, he had a point. In a few minutes this would all be moot. With his magic useless against these things, and them pretty much invulnerable to anything not spud related, it was only a matter of time before he earned a one way ticket to their lower intestines.

  And then what?

  Yeah, it was possible that, their mission fulfilled, these fuckers would march off on some other errand. But it was equally likely they’d be freed from their spell only to eat everything they could get their grubby little teeth on, including me and my friends.

  Shit! Maybe I should’ve saved those fries from earlier.

  You’re wrong. Potatoes are not their only weakness.

  Once again, my subconscious decided to speak up. But at least this time nothing was in a position to chew off my favorite body parts.

  The thing was, Dr. Death was right. He’d told me as much earlier. Hell, Falcon himself had confirmed it.

  These things didn’t like water. I wasn’t sure if that was a wicked witch of the west thing or more like a cat getting pissed when you spritzed them in the face. But, with no potatoes in sight, it was all I had left to work with.

  Fortunately, we were already at the docks, in a warehouse which jutted out to the edge of the pier.

  “Falcon,” I cried, hooking a thumb over my shoulder. “Get to the south end ... um, that way.”

  “I know which way is south.”

  “Then head that way as far as you can go. I have
a plan.”

  “It’s a bloody dead end.”

  “Not for a fucking wizard, idiot.”

  “Fair point.”

  He immediately made a run for it, heading past me and leaving the short-legged little gremlins in the dust. Less awesome was the fact that the one that had been crawling after him changed direction to follow ... once again putting me directly in its ball-chomping path.

  Fuck me!

  Under normal circumstances, I’d simply see how far I could toss the goddamned thing. But, as I tried to fend it off, I realized, with no small degree of horror, that I had nothing left. Hunger, injury, being on the go for hours on end, and healing from having my balls nearly eaten, had rendered me as weak as ... maybe not a baby, but not much better than one.

  Case in point, this thing leapt at me, pure crazy in its eyes as it went for my face like this was nothing more than another shitty Child’s Play sequel.

  Unfortunately, I’d have had much more faith in my ability to win had the leprechaun been made of nothing but cheap plastic. Too bad it was more like fighting an angry miniature chimpanzee, as it grasped, clawed, and snapped at me.

  “Goddamn it!” I tried to scramble away, but my body might as well have been moving in slow motion for all the progress I made.

  “Not to be a pain, but what was that plan, Freewill?”

  “Give me ... just a minute,” I cried, now on my back doing everything I could to keep this thing from taking my nose off.

  Hoping to keep its nasty yellow chompers at bay, I put a hand up to its face. “Chew on this, shithead!”

  I extended my claws, driving my index and middle fingers deep into this thing’s eye sockets, dousing my hand in thick, slimy, leprechaun blood.

  Blood!

  It wasn’t human blood. Hell, it wasn’t even vampire blood. But the sight of it caught my eyes, nevertheless. All at once, it was all I could focus on.

  It’s scent ... wasn’t actually all that appealing really, both strange and alien, probably owing to the fact that I was dealing with a creature that time forgot. But, the nasty funk held just enough of that familiar coppery odor to make me salivate.

  It was all I could do to not pull my fingers out and lick them clean.

  Sadly, the creature, blinded as it was, apparently had the same idea. In my distracted state, I let my guard down, so mesmerized was I by the creature’s unappealing yet absolutely enrapturing bodily fluids.

  Before I could refocus, the leprechaun bit down with its heavy teeth, taking the tip of my thumb with it.

  MOTHERFUCKER!!!

  Jesus Christ. What was up with things either crushing, poisoning, or eating my fucking hands today? What was next, a spiked-gauntlet handjob?

  Screw it! Two could play at this game.

  Before I even realized what I was doing, I grabbed the leprechaun by the hair and yanked its head to the side. Teeth bared, I let the desire for blood take over as I sank my teeth deep into its thick rubbery neck.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Go figure, primitive leprechaun blood tasted about as good as I imagined it would. Think of cabbage but, instead of boiling it in water, use raw sewage instead.

  The thing was, as vile as it tasted, I couldn’t stop myself from slurping down more and more of it. It was like being back in college and experimenting with mixed drinks. Sometimes we’d find a winner, but more often than not we’d end up concocting something that tasted like it had come straight from Satan’s asshole.

  That didn’t mean we let it go to waste, though. Besides, the more fucked up you were, the less taste really mattered.

  It was kind of like that now, except instead of piss-drunk, I was starving – or at least it felt that way. And while a shit-encrusted cracker wasn’t appealing to most, it was filet mignon to someone losing their mind to hunger.

  The leprechaun began to convulse as I did my damnedest to drain it dry. I wasn’t sure whether this would kill it or if it would be back to biting my ankles again in five minutes, but the truth was I didn’t really care.

  This was all about me.

  And, amazingly enough, it seemed to be working. For all I knew, I’d end up puking rainbow-colored leprechaun chunks in the next five minutes, but for the moment the need to feed was starting to subside. Better yet, I felt my strength returning, at least enough to be functional.

  The haze of hunger began to rise from my head and ... whoa!

  Nope, scratch that. The haze wasn’t actually lifting. If anything, it was simply grabbing a better seat, as a kaleidoscope of colors exploded behind my closed eyelids.

  Da fuq?

  I pulled my teeth out of the Leprechaun, then tossed its still twitching body to the side and opened my eyes.

  “What the...?”

  Becoming a vampire was a trippy sensation. Smells, sounds, and tastes were all enhanced to crazy levels. Sight, though, was a bit weirder. The rest were simply enhanced, but becoming a vampire was like cranking up the saturation levels on your eyeballs.

  That said, it was fairly easy to adapt to. Everything was simply in sharper relief than it had been before.

  This, though, was like someone had stepped into my head and fucked with the Photoshop settings of my mind.

  Everything now glowed with an aura of its own, and I mean everything. There was a broken alarm clock a few feet away that was lit up like a chunk of Kryptonite.

  I crawled over to look at it, then screamed when it sprouted arms and gave me the finger.

  “Time to fuck off, asshole,” it chittered before scurrying off like a clockwork cockroach.

  Close by, a busted sofa grew a face and told me I’d better not even think of planting my ass there.

  And it wasn’t alone. In every direction I could see, inanimate objects came to life, most of them making rude gestures my way. And what didn’t come to life was busy melting before my eyes, like some sort of fucked up Escher painting.

  It was both wonderful and terrifying to behold, like being stuck in an R-rated Disney movie. That said, I’d smoked enough weed in my time to make it painfully obvious what was going on.

  I was tripping balls on leprechaun blood.

  Under different circumstances, I would’ve dug the shit out of this. Hell, I’d have parked my ass and enjoyed whatever shit the theater of my mind cared to show me, especially since it had been way too long since I’d gotten properly fucked up.

  It was just one of many reasons why being an adult with responsibilities could really suck.

  Sadly, now was not a good time to wander down that rabbit hole. I needed to focus. Falcon was waiting for me at the south end of the warehouse – whichever fucking way that was. And if I didn’t get there soon, he’d end up being a smorgasbord to a bunch of midget cave trolls.

  Interestingly enough, I could see at least three Falcons from my vantage point, all of them beckoning me in different directions, including one chummy fellow who was asking if I wanted to join him for some bangers, mash, and Doritos.

  Truth be told, he was my favorite of the bunch, but I doubted he was real, not unless he’d inexplicably decided to break out his emergency stash and join me.

  That would be so fucking cool.

  “Cool is all well and good, Freewill, but it won’t save Mentor Falcon or stop these things.”

  “Huh?” I replied, replying to the familiar voice, one I hadn’t heard in years.

  Turning around, I realized another hallucinatory specter had joined the multiple Falcons putzing about – one I hadn’t ever expected to see again.

  “James?”

  TRIPPING BILLS

  James was as I remembered him, maybe minus the fact that he was glowing like someone had shoved a technicolor lightbulb up his ass. He was kind of like a leaner brown-haired version of Chris Evans’ Captain America, with a bit more stubble. Of course, whereas a week’s worth of facial hair would make people throw spare change my way, it gave him a rugged feel, the kind that would cause women to drop their panties in a heartbeat.


  Not that I’d ever seen him abuse that superpower. He was the sort of guy who walked through life as if unaware he should be modeling underwear on the cover of GQ.

  More important than his looks, though, had been the fact that he’d been unique among the elder vampires. Most of them had been humorless fucks, certain that their undead shit didn’t stink. James, however, had been a good guy – smart, fair, and able to take a joke. Yeah, I’d seen him drink more espresso than was sane, but it’s not like I could hold that against him. As far as vices went, that was a softball, especially for a guy around seven hundred years old.

  Even his nickname had been cool. He wasn’t James the Conqueror, or James the Bloody, as I’m sure plenty of other vamps would have preferred. Instead, he was simply known as the Wanderer. Apparently, at least from what Sally had told me, the guy talked the talk, in that he’d chosen to spend a good chunk of his long life actually out there living it.

  In short, he was kind of like a real-life version of the adventurers I used to play in Dave’s game, except infinitely cooler.

  Sadly, he’d died back when the Source was destroyed. The spirit that had possessed him, making him a vampire, had been forced back to wherever it had come from, leaving his human half to rapidly age to match the long centuries he’d lived. However, even in that, he’d maintained his dignity.

  Truth of the matter was, he was one of the only vamps I missed from those days, and not just because he’d pulled my ass from the fire on more than one occasion. If anything, these last few weeks had been even more terrifying because it felt like, without him, I was truly operating without a safety net.

  Seeing him there now, staring at me with a bemused look upon his face, I really should’ve burst into tears and told him how much I missed him.

  But I was high as fuck, so the best I was able to manage was, “Hey, man. What’s up?”

  “What is up, Dr. Death,” James replied, using his old nickname for me – which in turn had become my nickname for the beast inside of me. Goddamn, that made even less sense when I was tripping. “...is that the a'chiad dé danann are still on the loose. And they shall soon make short work of the person you’re supposedly here to save.”