by Hunter Blain
“Big rhino motherfucker killed Mortis and almost got yours truly,” I said as I selected Stranger Things. “Depweg saved the day.”
“A…rhino…?” Da asked. “Demons are getting creative.”
“Oh, I need you to fix the ol’ duster again.”
“There’s only so much more I can do to that— that thing. I can’t even claim it has any of its original material left.”
“Yeah, but I likes it. So, you know, do your Fae thing.” I removed and threw the coat on the coffee table and started watching my stories on the television. “When did Samwise get on the show?”
Da set his tools down and grabbed his iPad, closing YouTube. Then he opened the camera app and took a picture of Locke’s face before turning and grabbing the coat that I extended out to him. He floated off to his room and let the door shut behind him, muttering something under his breath.
“So, how do I look?” Locke asked.
“Like a burnt turd covered in shitty makeup,” I said without ever turning my gaze away from the TV.
“Wait, is this season two? I never finished one!”
“Then look away.” In my peripheral vision, I could see Locke’s red mouth drop open in shock and disbelief.
The proximity alarms chided a brief alert. I hit pause and then changed the source over to the cameras. Depweg was approaching with two large reusable bags. I could see the sheen of the plastic wrap around the meat.
A second proximity alarm sounded, and I could see Depweg stop dead in his tracks. His head was on a swivel as he searched around. I could see his head tilting up and down slightly as he used his preternatural sense of smell. He dropped the bags, and I could see him talking aggressively, though I couldn’t hear anything. I leaned forward in my chair, looking for any movement from the multiple angles.
A man walked into view, wearing a modern black suit. His blood-red tie reflected in the light. A leaf from the tree the camera was hidden in kept the man’s face from view, only offering brief glimpses of features as the wind made the leaves dance. He stood with confidence several steps away from Depweg, who was shifting nervously now. He took a step backward with his hands up in surrender, almost pleading, which was uncharacteristic for the militaristic Depweg. I couldn’t remember him ever running from a fight.
Another step back and the man blurred forward, subduing Depweg with frightening ease. That’s when I saw him. The glowing red eyes that matched his tie. The short-cropped hair with a slight widow’s peak evident without the hood on.
“Who the hell is that?” Locke asked as he squinted at the screen.
“Ulric…” I breathed out in disbelief with eyes wide and mouth agape. “DA! EMERGENCY!” I cried out as I ran to the door, throwing it open to slam against the wall. The metal on metal sent a piercing clang throughout the hideout. I raced up the stairs and out the mausoleum, fully aware that I had only been given enough blood to start the healing process. There was no way in hell I could possibly overpower the ancient Ulric. But I had to try, for my brother.
I made it to where the bags spilled their contents over the grass. My eyes shifted, and I sent my senses out, searching for Ulric and Depweg. I couldn’t feel anything. My eyes shot to the ground, where there was just as much dirt as grass. I saw footprints and started to follow them, quickly. Panic set in. The footsteps vanished after a few yards. I frantically searched all around, trying desperately to find where they had gone, but their tracks had been eaten by the grass. Depweg had been my best friend for decades, and I was not about to let him die because of me.
Da floated toward me, worry evident on his face.
“Locke told me. Ulric has Depweg?” Da asked, dismayed. “If he didn’t kill him here, it means he took him for a purpose.”
“Me,” I told him sullenly, frustration causing tears to threaten to leave my face. “The sun isn’t up yet! We still have time!”
“John. There’s nothing more you can do now. The sun will crest in a few moments. Come inside before you burn,” Da said as he turned to make his way back to our lair, stopping to pick up the bags in his little hands. He did so with relative ease.
Trailing behind him, I asked, “So, what? We do nothing?” Anger seeped into my words.
“Ulric has the upper hand now, John. He will contact you when he is ready to do so,” Da said with apprehension.
“What is it?”
Da sighed as we made our way down the steps. “Let me think a moment longer.”
We entered the lair and Da turned to the kitchen, dropping the bags of meat and vegetables on the counter. He began putting away the food into the large commercial-sized fridge.
I shut the door hard and crossed my arms, waiting for Da.
“Two things, John,” Da started. “One, he is going to want you in exchange for Depweg. That much I am confident of. Two, there are two vampires.”
“And?” I asked, stepping forward with building curiosity.
“Armageddon will begin when the last vampire walks the Earth, remember? If Ulric kills you, or you kill Ulric, the catalyst will be set for the end of the world.”
“Technically, it states that the gates of Hell will open, which will allow the apocalypse to commence,” Locke said from the living room. After a moment of silence, he added, “You cannot give yourself up to save the wolf. I’m sorry. That’s how it has to be.”
“He’s my best friend. My brother. I’d willingly die for him,” I said through clenched teeth.
“And cause the fucking apocalypse while you’re at it?” Locke argued with a voice that was growing louder in frustration and worry. “Pretty damn sure that Depweg would not want that.”
“He’s right, John,” Da agreed. “The best course of action is no action at all.”
My fists tightened in helpless rage.
“No!” I barked out while beginning to hyperventilate. “I will save him or die trying!”
“Let Locke and I come up with an outline of a plan while you slumber. First thing tomorrow night, you must feed. You’re going to need all the strength you can muster if you are to face Ulric.”
At that moment, I was too bewildered to even point out he had said the P word. Instead, I just went into my room and closed the door, my body doing the motions on autopilot as my mind reeled. Ulric was back and he had my best friend. He was going to kill me or force me to kill him and end Heaven, Hell, and Earth in between. I was dizzy with how momentous the situation was.
I slowly pivoted and sat on the bed, my eyes staring at nothing at all as my mind worked out my predicament. If I killed Ulric, end of the world. If Ulric killed me, end of the world. If I did nothing, my brother died and Ulric would still come after me. If I brought allies, they would surely die or accidentally kill Ulric. It was as if I were being drawn and quartered—each decision was a rope tied around one of my limbs and attached to a horse facing a different direction. Each horse was pulling at the same time, and it didn’t matter which one pulled the hardest, I still lost in every single scenario.
Feeling helpless was more intense for a super- or preternatural creature than it was for mortals. Humans were always a baby hair’s breadth away from being completely powerless. A car wreck while coming home from church. A robbery in the parking lot after work. Any of a number of illnesses that doctors couldn’t cure. Natural disasters that left them without food, water, or power. Rush-hour traffic. You get the idea.
For supes, it was an almost alien idea. We spent most of our existence being the apex predator, in control of our surroundings and with means of escape or manipulation in most situations. When we were finally rendered helpless, it was truly a long way to fall.
As I sat motionless on my bed, I became dizzy as the reality and weight of the circumstances solidified. This wasn’t a bad dream that I could wake up from. I would have to make a decision and hope that I didn’t end all of existence in the process.
In my depressed and shocked state, the briefest thought of suicide came into my mind. This woke me up fr
om my pity party, and I laughed at the irony. Sure, I could kill myself. I definitely knew of a cornucopia of ways to do it after narrowly surviving all these years; but then I would just go to Hell, and all this would be redundant. Well, maybe it wouldn’t if Hell was also destroyed after my death sparked the apocalypse. Either way, I was not going to let my weak impulses even begin to entertain giving up. Too much was riding on me. At this moment I was Atlas, and the world needed my shoulders to bear its weight.
As my resolve strengthened, the sun rose, coaxing me to rest in preparation for the night of prophecy to potentially unfold.
12
The next night, I awoke and immediately headed downtown without saying a word to Da or Locke, who were still hard at work on their plan. Locke had begun to say something before Da had raised his hand to halt him, knowing how single-minded I was at that moment. I was hangry.
Depweg had suggested a morally approved method of hunting that I was going to partake in.
I took striding leaps in a straight path in search of food. It was of utmost importance that I replenished the reserves that the rhino had burned away.
I leaped over houses, through industrial parks, and over creeks until I got to the edge of downtown. As I entered the city, I shot a bloodrope high up into a concrete building and used my momentum to carry myself upward. This was similar to, but legally different from, that superhero that was bit by the spider.
I landed on a roof while retracting my bloodslinger. Just your friendly neighborhood vampire out for some dinner. I walked to the edge, closed my eyes, and opened my senses. I could feel the wind caress my face and tug at my hair and freshly repaired trench coat Da had left out for me. Footsteps sounded clearly from the few passersby that walked the streets of this early evening. Work was over, and the restaurants and bars were starting to fill up. I could perceive the smell of different types of food wafting from below, but they held no interest for me anymore. Not for centuries now. Though they smelled pleasant enough, the scents were more akin to smelling a cologne or perfume; sure, they were nice and all, but you wouldn’t go about consuming them.
My mind kept slipping back to Depweg in my search. Still images of Ulric easily overtaking him. Had Ulric stopped for a fraction of a second and looked at the camera? I couldn’t be sure. What I was sure of was that he had my best friend. The yin to my yang. I wanted to find him now and face Ulric, but even PS knew that would be the same as suicide. Ulric was much older than I was, which equated to a multiplicative strength difference, possibly even exponential. Either way, I knew that I had gotten lucky in the alley so many, many years ago. A one-in-a-million shot brought to fruition by Ulric’s own hubris, which I was confident he would not repeat. He sought revenge and would not care about the consequences. To him, it would be entertaining to watch the end unfold.
After waiting for several minutes, possibly hours (because I was terrible at time), I heard what I was waiting for. A scream slipped through the night and into my ears, freeing me from my troubling self-doubt. Orienting on the sound, I ran across the roof and leaped to the next one, drawing closer to my breakfast and source of replenishment.
In short order, I parkoured a quarter of the way through downtown Houston then leaped into one of the topmost levels of a parking garage. There, a wild-eyed man was overpowering a woman in a business suit. Saliva bubbled between his lips as her blouse was ripped off like it was made of tissue. He moaned in anticipation as the woman whimpered, red lumps evident on her brow and cheek where she had been struck repeatedly into submission.
“You’re in Los Diablos Locos territory now, bitch. You shouldn’t be here. Now, you’ll have to pay the toll,” he said while sucking his saliva back between his lips and then wiping the remainder away with his shoulder. The leather biker jacket only succeeded in smearing the spit.
The rapist gang member had the woman on her back now and was moving a hand up her thighs while I walked right up to him. I didn’t even have to attempt to be silent as the foolish mortal was so intent on his prey; so was I.
My hand wrapped around the back of the man’s neck and I lifted him. He was as helpless in my grip as a puppy being carried by its mother. I looked down at the woman, who was attempting to pull her blouse back together, and told her in a stern voice, “Go. He will not bother you any longer.” I turned my gaze back to the man and waited. She didn’t move, unsure which man in front of her was the real danger. I shot my head back at her and willed my eyes to glow red as I shouted, “GO!”
That did the trick. With wide-eyed panic, the woman scrambled on the ground, breaking a heel of her shoe in the process. She hobbled to a nearby car, clicking with every other step, got in, and sped off. Tires squealed and billowed white smoke as a terrified foot pressed the pedal to its limits.
I turned my attention back to the man, placing my other palm on his forehead. It was his turn to whimper as he tried to push me away from him; but to this mere mortal I might as well have been a stone statue, unyielding to his pathetic attempts at freedom.
“Where is your gang’s hideout?” I asked coldly while willing my essence into his mind. He stiffened as he sucked in a gasp of breath before relaxing completely after a few moments of pointless resistance.
“A warehouse off Fuqua Street, close to 45,” the man said as if floating through a dream.
“What warehouse?” I demanded.
“Los Diablos Car Care Center.”
“You…you can’t be serious,” I asked in disbelief. “Who is your marketing guy, because that title strikes two different emotions.”
“We have a Facebook page,” he replied.
“I didn’t ask, but alright,” I said, annoyed. “How many are there right now?”
“At least fifteen locos and maybe some bitches.”
“First of all, you’re white. I don’t know if I should be incredulous or proud of your vernacular. It’s nice to see a gang be so inclusive. Second, are all of you crime-laden filth?”
“Yes…why am I saying these things?” he asked in his haze.
“Because I am making you. Doesn’t feel so fun being on this end of things, does it, you white cholo.”
“That’s racist.”
“YOU’RE WHITE! I’M WHITE. Fuck, I’m more than white. I’m feck’n Irish. That’s like the epitome of white,” I said, pointing to my reddish beard.
“Are you going to hurt me?”
“I’m not gonna hurt ya. Wendy, darling, light of my life. I’m not going to hurt ya,” I told him in my best Jack Nicholson voice.
“Wha…what?” the rapist asked while I let my essence slip back into my being.
“You didn’t let me finish my sentence. I said, I’m not going to hurt ya. I’m just going to bash your brains in. I’m going to bash them right the fuck in.” As I finished my monologue, I manifested a hammer in my free hand, keeping my other on his neck. With one quick motion, I brought the hammer down with the force of Valhalla and sent the blunt instrument deep into the vein-filled fat sack that once might have been called a brain. White gore sloshed over the broken skull and onto the pavement as I drew his erupting blood into my body. His eyes rolled up and his mouth gaped open wordlessly while his body twitched and shook.
Oh, the power. The ecstasy. Energy filled my every molecule and sent tingles of pleasure shooting down my spine and over my limbs. It wasn’t sexual. Rather, it was a whole-body euphoria, like stepping out onto a cool spring night and feeling the evening air enveloping you in a welcoming embrace down to your bones—and then multiplying that a hundred times over.
Once drained, I retracted my hammer-straw. PS rejoiced in my mind as I turned in the direction of this blood bag’s hideout. While still holding the sack of flesh in my hand, I leaped through the levels of the parking garage with renewed vigor, and all but flew through the streets at preternatural speeds.
By the time I made it to a warehouse across from the chop shop—I mean, Car Care Center—my leftovers had been torn to shreds by the velocity at
which I traveled. My powerful body kept whole while his mortal remains all but disintegrated piece by piece over the journey, leaving nothing behind except the skull, which I still held. I brought it up to eye level, whispered “Thank you,” to it before squeezing my fingers into a fist and turning the skull to dust. What fell to the ground I stepped on with my boots and ground with my heel. Perfect way to dispose of a fully drained body. If any large pieces remained intact, animals would surely devour them.
My senses shot out with predatory intensity, and I was easily able to make out every warm body in and out of the warehouse. Big Gulp was right. There were exactly fifteen meals to be eaten.
Don’t eat the innocents, got it? I told PS. He nodded in eager anticipation of the Vegas-style buffet that lay ahead of us. I’m serious. Do not take the wheel from me. Partners? PS looked at me soberly and nodded once. Then let’s go make the world a better place.
I shot out from my spot and crossed the street in a single bound. PS oriented on our prey while I sent out my essence to the handful of women whose only crime was being into bad boys. I coaxed some of their synapses to stop firing for a few minutes while I ate, rendering them living statues that wouldn’t remember anything.
PS shot a hand out while forming a crude manifestation of what reminded me of a stalactite you could see in caves. It wasn’t neat, pretty, or even fully symmetrical, but it pierced through two TV dinners like a chopstick through rice. PS fiercely sucked their life force from their body before their hearts even knew to stop beating. I almost lost control of the wheel as my nerves were kissed with indescribable decadence. I struggled to maintain my grip lest PS lose control and go apeshit on every living thing in a five-block radius. We had lost a lot of energy with the rhino, and we were both desperate to refill our tanks, and then some. Being in a blood rage was nothing new to me, but I was learning to control it the best I could.