by Hunter Blain
“HOW DID HE KNOW TO USE THE PHONE?” I screamed through clenched teeth, unable to control my rage but trying not to kill him yet. I poured more of myself in, searching desperately.
I’m standing by the limo having a smoke, wondering why these weird fuckers are paying so much to have their own limo driver on call this late. I look up and see the most beautiful woman I have ever seen. She is talking to Ulric through the glass, and appears to be pleading. Ulric is wearing a black beanie over his head with red streaks down his neck under his ears. That’s odd. I take a puff of my cigarette as I watch the blonde wavy-haired woman walk out of view for a moment and then return, holding a cell phone. She puts it in Ulric’s hand—what kind of name is Ulric anyway—and points at me through the window. I can see she is desperate to make this guy do what she says. This gorgeous woman takes the phone from his hand and pushes some buttons and then points. Ulric takes note of this and walks out of view. I see one of the motion-activated lights in the yard turn on, and I look in that direction to see a giant black thing disappear into the trees. I gulp and rub my eyes with my free hand, unbelieving. There is a crash as glass is shattered. Then another. After a few moments of silence, I shrug it off and pull my suit jacket a little closer—this place is giving me the creeps. The sound of an impact and shattering wood makes me jump nearly out of my shoes. I have no idea what the fuck is going on, and my cigarette burns my fingers. I yelp and let it drop to the ground. I hear the back door being thrown open as it clatters off the wall, followed by several fast-paced footsteps. I carefully walk toward the back of the house, sucking on my burnt fingers, and nearly shit my pants. There’s a scene from a horror movie mixed with creatures from that Lord of the Rings trilogy right in front of me. The biggest, scariest-looking dogs I’ve ever seen are attacking something the size of a brick wall! That’s when the chick wearing the weird black-and-blue makeup bursts through the front door and strides up to me, whispering, “We need to go, now.” I agree with the plan to get the hell out of here and climb into the driver’s side. She tells me to drive like my life depends on it, and I slam on the gas after starting the ignition.
I pull out of the mortal’s mind, sickened.
“Lily,” I drawled out in complete disbelief. Lily tipped Ulric off. Lily told Ulric how to trick me into following the limo.
The mortal driver fell to his knees, drool spilling from his parted lips. Woozy, he looked up at me with glassy eyes and moaned incoherently. Blood started to seep from his nose and ears as he began to sob uncontrollably. He attempted to form syllables, but couldn’t quite connect the dots. His eyes shifted from focused to unfocused and then back again as he wailed one long note. He grabbed either side of his head and pressed in, hard. I fucked up his mind in my rage. I burst into the china shop that was his brain and broke things you couldn’t break. This man was innocent, just a hired driver. My stomach became queasy with the realization that I would probably have to kill him right here and now or leave him to a life of endless suffering. He would never know who he was again. He would never recognize his family. And if I had to guess, would always be in indescribable agony. His family. My eyes shot down to the gold band on his left hand. Oh no…what had I done.
I could give him my blood. That would heal him; but this close to death, with his soul barely tethered to his body, he would turn. That meant I would damn his soul for eternity. Plus, there was no way he would be able to maintain a normal life with his family after this. No matter if I turned him or ended his suffering now, I would throw black ink on my soul. The murder of innocents was at the top of the list of things not to do. I was about to negate countless good deeds in one fell swoop.
“I’m…sorry,” I whispered as I forced myself to look at what I had done in my rage. I formed an ice pick in my hand while kneeling down next to this innocent man whose only wrongdoing had been trying to provide for his family. I placed the pick behind his ear and said, “Tell God I made it quick, would you?” before jamming it into what was left of his brain, killing him instantly. He stopped moving, stopped crying, and fell like a rag doll to the asphalt as I removed the pick—not daring to drain any of his blood. I stood then, forcing myself to take in every moment of this dead man. I could feel the weight of the pain his wife would endure once she was told he was dead. It was sickening to be the only keeper of this knowledge, knowing that an unstoppable fuse had been lit and a bomb was going to go off once she received the knock on her door. Somber faces of uniformed civil servants would tell her everything without having to utter a word.
I felt sick. Not only because of my rage-filled murder, but because I had been betrayed by Lily. Lily, whom I think I was starting to fall in love with, had warned Ulric and even shown him how to trick me into leaving.
“JOEY! DAWSON!” I cried out in panic as I spun around, trying to figure out where I was. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” I repeated in a terrified mantra.
My phone chimed, and without even having to look, I knew what it was going to say. I pulled it from my pocket and held it up, my eyes staring at a spot in the distance and refusing to look at the screen because it would solidify what I already knew.
Gritting my teeth and pulling my lips back in a snarl, I forced my eyes to look at the screen. What it said made me want to faint as my world began to teeter further.
“I have them,” said the text from Ulric whose name was flanked on either side by purple eggplants. It had been funny when I’d put them in. Now I wanted to crush my phone between my fingers.
Looking up from the screen, I could see the dawning sun announcing that it was going to arrive soon.
My fingers flew on the keyboard as I responded, “Dawn soon. Finish this tomorrow night. Them for me.”
“That is all I wanted, child. Tomorrow night.” To add insult to injury, the son of a bitch added a winky-face emoji. Lilith, I hated emojis and I think he knew that.
Feeling the impending dawn, I checked my Map app to figure out a direct path home. That’s when I saw the icon that was Depweg’s face staring at me. I glanced up from my screen and noticed the icon was directly where the upside-down limo was. I walked over to it, careful not to step on the corpse of the driver, and crawled into the back of the crushed car. There, on the ceiling of the vehicle, was Depweg’s black phone. I grabbed it before shimmying backward onto the asphalt. I turned the phone around in my hands as I stood, admiring the choice of case as the screen wasn’t even cracked in the least.
“Neat,” I sighed absently as I pocketed Depweg’s phone before looking back at my own to orient myself. After spinning in place so the phone registered due north, I set course for home southeast of my current location. I put the phone in the other pocket of my road-trashed trench and leaped into the night with no time to waste. I willed a bloodhelmet as I rocketed through the night at Mach speeds.
As I began to run, sun tendrils crested the horizon and waved a warm hello. I was already running at ludicrous speed and was betting I could make it to my lair in time. About halfway home, the first light exploded over the flat landscape, tickling the bottom of the clouds. It was blinding to my preter–eyes, and I was aware that I had effectively become a battering ram. I was traveling at speeds fast enough to cause some serious damage if I were to strike anything, and now I was having to squint to barely be able to see directly in front of me.
It was time to utilize a risk/reward algorithm by taking the assumed amount of time left and the distance needed to trail. A glass building came out of nowhere, forcing me to crash through its tinted panes on ground level and tumble into a hotel lobby where two employees were checking in what had to be a conference full of guests. Hundreds of eyes shot my way, startled, as I attempted to slow my roll—because I was actually rolling from my abruptly halted momentum. I saw that I was about to crash through the first line of guests, so I cartwheeled between two people that gave me some room as they jumped out of the way. As I passed, I noticed one person I’d wheeled past had a slice of pizza, so I said t
he only logical thing, “Smells good.” Then I was through the first line and was forced to jump over the second one as I called out, “Dinner’s ready!”
Even though I knew I had made an epic Ferris Bueller joke, I feared what both lines of people heard as I passed by at only semiludicrous speed was, “aaaaaaaAAAAAAHHHHHhhhhhhh!” Guess we’d never know. Oh, look, a stone wall to cushion my body to a soft halt.
“OOOF!” my body said as air was expelled out of my lungs and a deafening crack shot through my head. As my brain reset, I took note that the ground was rushing up to hug me and tell me everything would be alright.
If I’d had any air left in my lungs, it too would have made an exodus to the outside world. Stars swam in my vision as a pinprick of light formed in the center of my eyes and expanded to build a hotel lobby in an outward, circular motion.
As my brain booted up, I thought about the crunching sound and said in an airless whisper, “Please be the wall.” As I looked up, I noticed the quality stone of the lobby wall had but the slightest crack running down its center. That meant…
My hands slowly moved under my armor and up my chest, which felt as if I were smuggling in a bundle of sticks for the campfire. It was time to leave, so I needed to heal quickly before the mortals had the bright idea to pull out their smartphones and start filming me. Having one camera record a preternatural creature in action was one thing, as it could be easily explained away as having been edited. Get enough cameras from different angles recording the same event, and you got yourself some grade-A problems, Jack!
I painfully pulled what was left of my trench coat over my chest as I began healing, the pops ringing out loudly like a potato chip–eating SOB in the middle of a freaking movie. I mean, what theater exec thought chips were a good idea in a movie? Oh, and to you lovely fans across the pond, crisps.
Moaning, I rolled to my side, leaving my bloodhelmet in place, before pushing myself up. I glanced at the audience—who was still standing in line, mind you, unwilling to give up their spot—and saw only a few phones pointed my way. Acting quickly, I stood up, bowed deeply, which didn’t hurt at all while my bones were being set, and then righted myself. I pulled out my beanie from my pocket and walked toward the lines, holding the hat out like a bowl. Once people saw I was asking for tips for my planned stunt, all heads shot forward and cell phones disappeared in the blink of an eye. I was actually offended.
“Are you not entertained?” I called out in my best Russell Crowe as I pocketed my beanie and made my way casually to the broken pane of glass.
“Sir! Sir, stop!” a front desk clerk with a little plastic name tag that probably said “Fun Police” called out.
“¿Qué?” I called back as I crossed the threshold, pretending to not understand. Then I pivoted and started running at believable speeds. I squinted at the sky and noticed the sun was caressing the sides of the building, moving down the small of the back to its intended goal; my sweet ass.
Across the street was a Homewood Suites by Hilton, and seeing as how I was a Diamond member due to my horrible time management, I decided it was best to relax comfortably rather than try and tempt fate and run home. I could see it now; all humans were dead, and the few that were left after the Holy War got up from the lunchroom table when I sat down because I’d let the apocalypse start by whistling Dixie and walking home. No, thank you. I didn’t need that kind of social anxiety.
I made my way to the front desk, which was blessedly free of a line, and asked for a room whose window faced north or south. This would limit direct sunlight during the entirety of the day. Little trick I’d learned after my last foray into a hotel at the last minute. After a few clicks, the clerk gave me my plastic card and I retreated to my rent-a-lair.
Out of pure instinct, I raced to the windows and closed the curtains, ensuring no light would shine through. At least not enough to do any damage.
Feeling the effects of dawn starting to take hold, I knew I was only a few minutes away from passing out. I quickly made my way to the bathroom, where I stripped off my clothes and hopped in the shower, washing off all the grime and grit of the night before the water even had a chance to fully turn warm. I used an entire bottle of shampoo and slathered it on my head, beard, and the rest of me because I didn’t have time to use soap. Moreover, I’d left the little bastard sitting by the damn sink in its little white box. At least I’d grabbed the shampoo in my rush.
I shut off the water and grabbed a towel, feeling my eyelids fill with lead as I moved. I stepped over my clothes, noticing my poor trench, and crawled into bed wearing only my birthday suit and sense of modesty. As soon as my head hit the pillow, I succumbed to the will of the dawn and drifted off, hoping in the back of my head that I had placed a “Shh, sleeping” sign to signal the housekeepers to leave me alone.
17
Around midday, the answer came in the form of a gasping housekeeper. I barely opened one eye and looked over my shoulder to see a Hispanic woman in her midfifties doing the catholic cross over her chest as she looked at my naked body. I was on my stomach, and my legs were spread eagle, providing a full view of my fruit basket.
Letting my heavy head hit the pillow, I loudly slurred out, “No, thank you.” As I heard the door shut in a hurry, I became aware that I must have drooled on my pillow because it was wet and cold now. Sluggishly, I snaked my hand up and turned it over, revealing a fresh canvas to paint with my spittle. Sleep beckoned, and I let it take me.
A handful of hours later, I began to stir as the sun began to lose its daily struggle with the night and retreated.
I lifted my head and was surprised when the pillow cover came with me, only to release its hold on me when the weight of the pillow kept it from fleeing to a new life on my drool-covered face.
“Both sides, huh,” I asked myself. “Hope you’re proud.”
I got up and stretched, not for any physical reason that stretching provides, but as a routine that signifies the beginning of the night. Plus, it was a force of habit I’d picked up as a mortal that I didn’t see a particular reason to change. Perhaps it was because I fancied myself with the heart of a human in the body of a romance novel model.
I walked to the bathroom where my clothes still lay covered in filth from the night before. Picking up my boxer briefs first, I gave them a quick smell test and determined they were basically perfect. One of the perks of not being a human was that I didn’t sweat—though I could cry, and my eyes were lubricated along with my mouth. One of these days I would have to pontificate on the odd features vampires had.
I stepped into the black pair of Hanes and slid them into place, followed by my dirt-covered jeans and torn shirt. Both my boots and socks had been ground off. Glancing at the floor, I said a silent prayer to myself as I picked up my poor trench coat. It was all but decimated. The entire back portion of leather that sandwiched the internal components had been ripped away, leaving behind only the innermost leather that attached to the lining of the coat. The trench was now several inches shorter and frayed. It reminded me of a flamboyant cowboy’s gloves with the little strips of leather that hung from wrist to elbow.
“My poor trench,” I said in reverence as I crouched to lovingly pick up my most loyal piece of attire in the history of ever. Not many people walking this planet could say they had any article of clothing that had survived countless battles over the span of seven decades. Especially not one they had taken from a freaking Nazi officer who got what he deserved. I was proud of that coat, damn it. It was a constant reminder that there were bad guys that preyed on the innocent and needed…correcting.
For some reason, my brain turned on itself and I said out loud, “Then it makes perfect sense that you would wear it too; bad guy.” Fuck, that hurt. Self-burn.
Instead of putting my trench on, I pulled the beanie out of the pocket and left the room as I placed my headgear where it belonged. I left the amalgamation of different leathers draped over my arm as I made my way out. My feet slapped against the s
tone floors as I did.
As the sliding doors opened, I was reminded of my task for tonight like a gentle sledgehammer to the nuts. I needed to make my way back to the lair and come up with a plan on the fly. Lilith damn it—why didn’t I text Da last night what was going on?
I pulled out my phone and first called Da. After explaining the situation as I ran toward Father Thomes’ church, Da said he would work with Locke on something before I got home. We had a few hours before Ulric became suspicious.
I landed in the street in front of the church and made my way to the door. It opened as I arrived, and Father T said with a warm, welcoming smile, “I got worried when you didn’t call again. How is Locke? Has he revealed anything pertinent about his master?” I had been keeping the father informed on the situation so he could help me keep a level head. He was the one who suggested I forgive the man who had murdered my family. It hadn’t been easy, but I trusted the father completely to guide my soul to redemption.
“Not here for that,” I said as I walked past him. “Got bigger fish to fry right now.”
I caught him up on the situation, which he pondered intently.
“This is very serious, John. You cannot let him kill you just as you cannot kill him.”
“Oh, I’m not too worried about that last part. Lily commanded me not to kill anyone unless I feel like they are about to kill me first. Traitorous bitch.” I spit the words out, disgusted with my heart for having developed a strong fondness for her.
“If you don’t mind my saying, it sounds like she is trying to save you.”
“FROM WHAT?” I bellowed out, losing control of my rage momentarily.
At the complete opposite end of the spectrum, Father Thomes softly and soothingly said, “From yourself.”